For the past twenty-five years, there has been a movie reel in my mind. Many nights, in my dreams, that reel will replay the scenes of the fateful day my parents disappeared. The dreams carried a nightmarish tone in the initial years, but as I grew up, stronger in management of sorrow, it mellowed into a plain trailer. I had learned to tame the monsters in me, though at times, I struggled with the powers that came with my lone existence. My growing-up began when my parents embarked on a journey to Japan on a mission to search for the roots of my mother’s family. My mother had always wanted to explore her Japanese ancestral roots. As a child, she had listened to her grandmother’s talk about her father’s family, who were based in the mountainous region of Nagano. They, the Kaneko, had served for generations in the imperial court under the samurai clan. War brought my mother’s Japanese family tree to Singapore. They left in 1945 after the defeat but returned a few
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