Baggage

By Caroline Hsu

He was only twenty years old. Though he stood at a towering height, he was quiet by nature, and though he had nothing, he was hopeful. His right hand was occupied by his three year old son’s tiny fist, and his left was steadily balancing a medium-sized leather luggage. His wife stood beside him as they stared out into the harbor, where the murky waters seemed to stare right back at them. The ships were docked, and millions of other families, just like them, were waiting to board. Crew members were distinct in the background, lugging up bags and ushering people on board.

They’ve been planning this trip ever since their first son had been born. He found a new job overseas, and she was more than willing to accompany him. Even though they were comfortable in Taiwan, they knew the familiarity wouldn’t last. It was only a matter of time before Taiwan would go down under like the other countries. Like birds, they had to find another flock. They dreamt of a lifestyle where their kids could thrive, a house that was big enough to support them all, and a place where pay was equal and fair. It all boiled down to a certain star-spangled country: America.

Of course the leap was large. Neither of them spoke English, they were barely making ends meet, and they’d never even stepped out of their little island country. But the whispers and excitements of the western world fascinated them beyond comparison. And the way they both saw it, you have to take a big risk in order to gain a big reward.

“It’s almost our turn,” she noted, pulling out their passports. Their son gurgled a response, and she knelt down to wrap the scarf around his neck a little tighter. He missed his little sister, whom they had to leave behind. She’d hopefully join them a year later when they finally found their footing on the foreign soil, but for now, she stayed with their relatives.

“Next!” the crew member shouted. They made their way up to the boardwalk, taking off their hats and coats.

“Stella and Herman Hsu?”

“Yes.”

“Destination?”

“The United States.”

“Mmm,” the man responded, scanning them up and down. He paused to stamp their passports and returned them. “Good luck out there.” The crew member noticed how unlike the other passengers, he only had one luggage.

“Sir, is this really all you’re bringing? It’s awfully small for the three of you.”

Herman and his wife turned back around, and he coughed, modestly shifting his weight.

“I only have one small luggage, but my dreams are too large to pack.”

The crew member stared at him for a few seconds, a small grin spreading across his face.

“Damn straight.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Caroline Hsu is a 17 year old high school student from Las Vegas, Nevada. She is of Taiwanese descent.