Trip to Guiyang---- Part IV Departure (1)
Since our arrival on January 11, 2008, there had always been a Uigur boy selling
kebab at the entrance of the residential area where Grandparents lived, and it
was the Xinjiang-style grill that constantly warmed me up with a feeling that I
was as foreign to this place as a Westerner to the Orient.
I remember how I felt in my first trip to this city. Everything was novel and strange. Roads were narrower, buildings were more jumbled, food was spicier, people grew shorter, and the air smelled damper than in my home city. And people here spoke Chinese with an accent so different from the Mandarin that I would get
lost as often as I did in English! That was the year I began my English learning, so naturally, as a girl who liked daydreaming, I loved to imagine, while walking down the street in downtown Guiyang, that I was in Seattle or London or Vancouver with Mother, who was the only source of familiarity I had in my possession. I would even start to laugh like a maniac in the middle of my imagination, where I excited myself with a possibility of real visits to these foreign cities
some day....
Seven years later when the novel and strange became as ordinary I remembered to
be as in my last travel, two months had me feeling attached to this city, where
I could see green in winter, and where I enjoyed more sights and sounds than I did in a quiet town of Urumqi. But there also seemed a bit of nostalgia in me for a sense of belonging back to a place for now I call "my home," where I often receive warm smiles from our neighbors, where I am not afraid to get sick, where
I have much more time of being alone in contemplation, where I can get control of my life with the help of a broadband access to the infinite World Wide Web.
Four years ago we had to look for an actual agency and buy air tickets there with thousands of cash in our pockets, but now on March 2, 2008 with just a few clicks of the mouse, two air travel receipts were sent in one hour later by someone
who worked for an online ticketing company headquartered in Beijing, and it was
P.O.D..
"So, you will be home soon. I won't keep you here. Your daddy must be happy to
see you after being apart from you for such a long time!" Grandma said with a
heavy sigh, by all means indicating that she would do anything to keep me staying as long as possible.
"My dear, you'll be gone in just a few days...take care...don't get yourself burned out with work....” Grandpa croaked and then burst out in tears, unable to say anything more.
The thick clouds had finally been subdued to take a back seat to the glowing sunshine. "It is not easy to travel this far, but the damned weather gave my dears
no chance of having more fun outdoors!" The couple had cultivated such a complaining habit since our departure date was fixed.
It was true that the weather had not been cooperative to give us much chance of
visiting many tourist sites as we did last time, when we had great fun in the Qianling Park, the Botanic Garden, and the Riverside Park. Though thankful for the wonderful one-day excursions to the Huang-guo-shu Cataract and to the magnificent municipal government square, where my youngest aunt got frozen-bite at a temperature perfectly fine for me, I could not help but feel sorry for not being able to visit more places and visit them with my dear grandparents.
The more I thought about the fun I could possibly have had, about Grandpa's tears, the more I wanted to stay longer.
But I couldn't for the sake of everyone. And I wouldn't complain.
It was just Grandma's remark "When you are gone, we will again be left alone" that put me in an emotion mixed up with sorrow, sadness, and fear.
Along with failing health, loneliness was a new thing I discovered many days ago
growing inside Grandparents' minds and hearts and often making them see things
in a paranoid way.
"Go back home and never come to see us again." Said Grandma affirmatively to Mother, who just complained how tired she was after a long day's family chores.
"We brought him up, but now he doesn't even want to come to see us." Complained
Grandpa one day after dinner.
"Is there any child his age who likes an environment worse than the one in his own clean cozy home?" Mother tried to comfort her parents, but I knew what was coming.
"True! We live in a dirty apartment! But we brought him up in this very apartment! It is not the child to be blamed but their parents! How many times do you
see your sister or brother visit us?" Grandma joined in.
"They are all busy. You don't know anything about today's work and school!" Mother raised her voice. "Think about my generation. You are now living in a place you call home, but we will all have to live in a nursery when we can no longer cook our meals!"
The conversation was thus brought on to an argument. and then deadly silence fell upon the room. The only sounds were clanking and clashing of dishes from the
kitchen---made by an angry Mom, who claimed to me later that she would not ask anything of her only child in any condition. "That's called unconditional love."
She said.
Unconditional love. Two simple words. I wondered how many children, adult and
juvenile alike, could receive much love as I've so fortunately been given by my
wonderful wonderful parents. But even they, as noble souls, had once said something along the lines of "Dear, we will kill you and let you die with us if your
conditions haven't improved by the time we are too old to take care of you." While I perfectly understood, as I grew older, that this remark came out of their
love for me, I could not help but put it into my category of selfishness. I was
one of their possessions. They must create conditions to keep me from what they think is harm, so that they can have me as long as they live.
Actually I AM the most cherished possession of my parents. Any child is of his
or her parents. The reason is this simple: They bring us to this world and suffer to raise us up. They have the right.
The only thing is, we do not understand it when we are young, but once we gain the insight to get it a whole new meaning, we often find ourselves left too occupied with our own "possessions" to respond to our aged parents' increasing demand
for something they've spent most of their lifetime nourishing with sacrifices,
and when our "possessions" walk away one by one, we are left alone, neither being a "possession" ourselves nor having anything physically left in our possession
that we could love and treasure.
This cycle goes on and on with generation after generation, like a tornado, like
a powerful swirl, like any other natural force from which few would escape.
To be continued...
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