Yasna Vismale

My first Halloween I dressed up as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle because my mother had randomly gotten the costume. This was followed by the Grim Reaper, a ghost, and a martial artist—after “Karate Kid” came out, everyone started to tell me I looked like Jaden Smith. Somehow, I felt protected when I dressed up as these monsters and fighters, because it helped me grapple with my fear of the dark.

I remember a few years ago, back in Seattle, going to a movie theater with a friend and not-so-subtly complaining about how expensive the food was (this coming from a person who still buys the kids ticket whenever she can to save money). Some call me a cheapass, but I call myself frugal. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. A woman handed me a voucher for one free medium-sized popcorn. I was ecstatic. Movie theater popcorn is no doubt the best popcorn. I thanked her, handed the ticket over at the concessions stand, and brought my free popcorn into the theater to share with my friends.

In Seattle, my mother and I live in a one-bedroom apartment; the living room functioned as a common space by day and my “room” by night. My mother sold my bed right after I moved into Carman last year. Whenever I go back to Seattle over breaks, I am faced with two options: sharing the queen-sized bed with my mother (and her endearing yet loud snoring) or pulling out the mattress she had spared for me and sleeping under a few large, heavy-duty towels. I usually choose the second option.

When my mother immigrated to the United States from Japan at age 19, she found that the English language was her key to upward social mobility. Just as my mother desired to become literate in English, my desire was to become “financially literate.”