Hope: A Story About Vong

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“Look, Grandpa! My kite is flying so high!” Vong exclaimed with a wide smile on his face as he held on to the string of his kite.

Sure enough, his blue and white rhombus-shaped kite floated so high above him that it seemed a part of the sky. It seemed as if it wanted to fly away, too, along with the strong westward wind, but Vong gripped the end of the string tightly in his small hand. It was his favorite toy, after all, along with the handmade bamboo flute that was in his pocket.

His grandfather merely smiled, holding on to the rope attached to the large water buffalo his family owned.

Every afternoon, after school, Vong would take the water buffalo down to the Mekong river with his grandfather. Other than that, he was also in charge of feeding their pigs and chickens while his parents and three older brothers worked on the farm.

Vong was eight years old and the youngest of four children. He lived with his family, as well as his Grandma and Grandpa, in a small mud house in the middle of a green rice paddy.

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