开心果 (kāixīn guǒ) / a mother’s wish

Whenever I see my mom, she always brings a bag of pistachios.

A whole Costco-sized bag, the kind that takes up half of my suitcase. And since I live in a New York apartment, it basically consumes half of my apartment as well. 

When I was younger and my mom gave me these giant bags of pistachios, I’d shake my head in exasperation. I’d sigh as I rearranged my suitcase to tetris this comically sized bag of nuts. When I got home, I’d spend time elaborately rearranging my pantry to make them fit, huffing the whole time and thinking to myself: Jeez Mom, couldn’t you have given me a red pocket (money) instead? New York rent is expensive. Plus I wouldn’t have to lug around this giant bag. 

If you came over to my place you’d always find a bowl of pistachios laid out as snacks. “Here, eat them,” I’d say, eagerly shoving pistachios into your hands. “Help me finish these,” in an attempt to clear out space in my pantry.

I just never seem to run out, thanks to my mom. 

I was younger then. I didn’t understand the deeper meaning behind these gestures.

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In traditional Chinese etiquette, it's usually expected to bring a gift when you visit someone's home. Sometimes it's food or drinks. In business instances, it’s cigarettes. Red pockets for Chinese New Year (my favorite). Perhaps some fruit to symbolize prosperity, or tea as a wish for good health.

For my mom, her gift to me is always pistachios. 

In Chinese, pistachios are translated as 开心果 (kāixīn guǒ).
开心 (kāixīn) means happiness, joy.
果 (guǒ) means fruit.

A happy nut. How joyful.

The characters for 开心 (kāixīn) are made of the characters:
开 (kāi) : Open
心 (xīn) : Heart

These are the simplest forms of the characters—there are no sub-characters or radicals to break down the larger character itself. I like to think this is because happiness is a fundamental emotion that exists in all of us: there’s nothing complex to dissect.

My mom used to say pistachios were called 开心果（kāixīn guǒ) in Chinese because the shape resembled a smiling face. Alternatively, it may be a literal interpretation of 开心 which means “to open the heart,” since most pistachio nuts dehiscence, or pop open, as they mature, revealing the green heart of the nut inside.

But I interpret pistachios to mean the fruit of happiness, the fruit of joy.

What my mother is trying to pack into her suitcase to bring to me, wherever we meet, is a Costco-sized bag of joy and happiness.

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I don’t get to see my mom often. She lives in California, I live in New York. 

When we are young, our parents are the center of our universe. I’m reminded of this every time I see a toddler. I love how they look at their parents; there is so much love and joy in their faces. Parents of young children will tell you — this time is precious; this is the only time in their young lives where your mere existence as their parent lights them up in this way.

Things change and as we grow, we become planets with our own, distinct orbits — our own friends, significant others, careers, desires, things we wish to pursue, things that bring us happiness. And that innocent gaze of joy slowly shifts away from our parents, elsewhere…

With this shift, there are fewer opportunities for parents to bring their children happiness. And as we grow, we rely on our parents to deliver our happiness less and less.

It took me a few bags of pistachios in my twenties to realize what my mom was saying in this gesture — that deeper meaning behind the look in her eyes, when she would hand them to me. 

“Here, have some 开心果.”

Her wish to give me, her faraway daughter: happiness.

“Here, have some happiness.”

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It’s been many years now of pistachio giving, a lot of happiness I’ve eaten throughout the years. So much has changed in my life but one constant remains: this giant Costco-sized bag of pistachios that never seems to run out. Now, instead of huffing and rolling my eyes whenever my mom brings them to me, I smile with my arms outstretched. Happily ready to tetris them into my pantry, and eagerly waiting for friends to gather and share in this wish for happiness. 

“Here, eat them,” I’ll say, eagerly shoving pistachios into their hands.

“Here, have some happiness.”

Thanks for the 3lbs of happiness and plant protein, mom