You might already know that a "breakfast table" in a Chinese-American household means "everything table". We eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner here. We watch dramas here. Recently, we have started to drink wine here. My mother has probably sewn curtains here, too.

I recently shared my fears of shopping with my mother. I had no idea where to begin, I said.

She shared with me the story of this room, unlayering the intricacies she made through design, love, and time. 

At first, she fell in love with these chairs, with their gold-beaded, green and bronze backings. From there she made seafoam-green curtains to match, lined with gold. I remember trying to find a made-to-measure curtain business to save her time, but in the end, she laughed and did it herself.

Next came a rug with green and ivory and gold and red, but mostly green-ivory-gold so that it would match and not clash. The table itself came last, as a bargain from the display floor. It had a scratch, but my father and mother buffed it out together.

So you see, magic still takes hard work.