It’s 5am. Mom quietly shuffles in to pick up baby Coraline. Her hands plagued with age and diabetic stiffness carefully cups Coraline’s little head against her chest.  She sways and sings a lullaby. Mellow and sweet, it pierced my memory bank. Where did I hear that before? Familiar. Comforting. An hour passed by. Then I woke up wondering how I fell asleep. Mom laughs. Then quietly remembers. “When the soldiers drove us to the labor camps, you were only a year old. You broke out in hives and couldn’t stop crying. I tried everything. The driver threatened me that he would put a bullet in your head if I didn’t soothe you in one minute. Then I sang and sang and sang my heart out. You finally stopped crying. It was the only lullaby that saved your life.” There’s a Lao saying that your first guardian, your first teacher, and your first love is your mother. My mae is my earth and my moon. That’s the power of being a woman. So when we think …