I love this corduroy jacket.

It was my late uncle’s. It’s a little big on me but it’s always really comforting to put it on. The missing difference around my shoulders is a physical aspect of him that visits me when I shrug and settle into it, and I think about him. It’s a little weird but it’s nice.

I noticed the other day on the metro that there was a name written on its tag, but even with my limited Chinese, I saw that it wasn’t his name, but my grandfather’s.

I sent this pic to my mom and called her to confirm. I thought you said that this jacket was Ah-Gu’s? Isn’t this Ah-Gong’s name?

Yes and yes, she said. We wrote Ah-Gong’s name on everybody’s clothes because when we sent stuff over to the cleaner’s, we did everything together. But this is your Ah-Gu’s jacket! I’m sure! It was all under one household, and they knew your Ah-Gong, so this way it was easy.

That does sound easy.