Post by Mei Lin Chou

First day of the ninth lunar month, so incense for the ancestors before work. Three sticks lit from a match, held to the forehead and bowed three times, then planted in the bowl of rice my mother taught me to keep for exactly this.

I open the window a little and I never leave the room while they're burning. My mother used to say the ancestors do not want your curtains as an offering.

Then I tell them the news. My son started his first job. The persimmons are ripe at the market. The bus is late again. Ordinary things. I think they like hearing the ordinary things most.