breakfast, mornings, Saturday cartoons, big brown couches, feet-up, impatiently munching on fresh pancakes¹ while new ones begin to bubble, a ripple effect of cousins waking up one after another, holding grudges on monopoloy pride, holding comradery in late-night secrets, coming together to fold dense rose-patterned blankets hamburger then hotdog then neatly tucked away, closets brimmed with sleepover supplies, twenty-plus bedsheets for a four-bedroom house, waiting for guests, planning our sleeping arrangements for guests, girls room, boys room, aunty uncle here,            milk bowls, cereal bowls, five different boxes for four hungry children constantly picking out new flavors each trip to Kroger,          uncle cutting fruit into animals tailored to match the season’s celebration, daikon radish as penguin bellys, apples as swans, orange as fish, trays of fruit to pick at when conversations run low, sugar, swedish fish,          roadtrips, driving in an easy mutual silence, florence and the machine banging “YOU’VE GOT THE LOVE,” my parents softly singing along to their Vietnamese tunes, while casually taking up our song requests, Britney Spears, Beyonce, Whitney Houston, Celine Dion, Selena, Adele, and finally compelled by the power of ABBA, we sang together, we all admired powerful women early on, and          I knew I’d be best friends with my college roommate because we bonded over the same nostalgia, giving into our instincts as we cried “SHINE ONCE MORE, LIKE YOU DID BEFORE, sing a new song Chiquitita” all while driving into the sunset in her mom’s rhinestoned white convertible, instantly rising from the bar when ‘Dancing Queen’ popped on, popping off, my mom passionately karaoke-ing sunsets, set1, set2, set3, sunrise, rise1, rise2, rise3, clouds, nimbus, cumulus,          collections, rocks, stamps, 2012 olympic cereal boxes because my cousin told me they’d be valuable and the olympians looked so proud, Gabby Douglas, Kerri Walsh, Summer Sanders, I had to look-up their names up and their photos still bring me joy, sentimental cardboard, letters, birthdays, graduation, flimsy tassels, oversized gowns, suddenly smiling and taking photos with everyone regardless of history, holding onto a shared space, sentimental value,   funny story: i once had a pin collection because when we were traveling around disneyworld i wanted to trade with all the employees and i’d feel so sneaky for trading my $2.99 mickey mouse for their golden goofy, shiny things, precious things, i don’t know where my pins are now but i mainly look back in tender disbelief that my parents encouraged my small interactions while they paid for my access to monumental rides and spectacles, globes, snowglobes