Ba mẹ...

Ba mẹ...

I brought back for my parents a macha/raspberry poundcake, which they ate with apparent delight. 

My mother: "My mother did that cake!"

My father and I said nothing. 

My mother: "Yes grandmother had this business. They would do lots of things..."

Silence from me and father. Grandmother? Whose grandmother? My mother's? Mine? 

Me: "I brought that cake for you today..."

My mother: "Yes... but it's mother who did it"

Me: "But your mother passed away decades ago..."

My mother: "Yes. But it's her people who kept on baking it. Grandmother had lots of..."

Me: "Grandmother... you mean your grandmother? My great grandmother...?"

My mother: "Yes my grandmother. I guess she's not around anymore..."

My father: "Perhaps not..."

Me: "And I was 17 when grandmother passed away. I was in high school, I remember"

My mother: (looking at me with a surprised smile) "You're too little to have been born then. Don't be silly!"

And that's how it so often goes...