My Mother Was a Mail-Order Bride
People often ask me how I came to the United States. Sometimes they give me an unpleasant smirk, wink at my American husband, and say nothing but imply a lot. Sometimes they go as far as measure me up and down, and blatantly ask me if I was a mail-order bride. In response, I always force myself to smile and politely say that no, I was not a mail-order bride. Most of the time I suppress a really strong urge to say something mean and nasty. But I am a polite person, generally, and I keep my mouth shut. When I tell people that I was not a mail-order bride, I am not lying. However, I never tell anyone that they almost guessed it, and that they missed by one generation: my mother was a mail-order bride, not me. This story is about her.