when i left his apartment that day, i walked down three sets of dusty click-lit steps. then through a shaded hallway with dripping floors and down a stone staircase. he must have been behind me but i couldn't hear him through the roars of my luggage wheels. i waved to the gateman, who for once was not slumbering, and stepped outside the gates to greet a busy morning street.

so, so different from that one quiet summer dawn, when i woke up at 5 am to walk with him to the town's edge and the haze had faded everything to cold neutral and i couldn't believe how small his town was to be surrounded by such endless cloud-wreathed mountains. and we had both kept silent in comfortable companionship in what seemed like a suspended place and time.

but that day, as i was leaving for the final time, everything was as i came: people, buses, cars in never-ending traffic cacophony, like a million jeweled bugs gone crazy in the sun and humidity. i closed my eyes and time folded, how could two months stand between two identical settings, and then it quickened to spite me: he stepping to my side and yelling down a cab. and i putting the suitcase in the trunk and shut. there was just a moment before i closed the door and waved goodbye.

on some hot summer days, on some street corners, if i'm lucky, if the heat and gasoline smells and car honks mix just right, i would recapture that moment of splitting between his world and mine. i wanted to hug him, an altogether foreign and modern gesture (so i didn't). i wanted to tell him, tactlessly, 爷爷，我永远爱你 (but i just nodded and smiled weakly). time waits for no one, a lesson i need relearning and can only remember in desperation. remember: my body dragging my heart into the car; in the back window, seeing his small figure disappearing into the crowd.

home

-    waking up late in the afternoon in order to avoid hiking.
-    attempting to make nice with edward.
-    following father around in his garden. cucumbers, tomatoes, and berries season.
-    helping mom out with her latest shenanigan. i think i reported before that she was trying out mixology.
     well, she changed her mind. "why mix when you can create!"
-    eating extreme organic food and leaves of random vegetables that my parents deem healthy
     (pumpkin, sweet potato, and other things i don't want to think about).
-    karaoke.
-    watching one of 5 movies (series) my dad recognize as classic: lord of the rings, james bond, star wars, titanic or independence day. alternatively, watch foreign films with mom.

me: "i need to work on my alcohol tolerance. in the future it might be helpful."
dad: "yes. but you should do it in a controlled environment. not at college parties."
me: "ok."
dad: "here. finish this bottle and get drunk. then you can go sleep it off."

San Mao “Love and Trust”/ 三毛《爱和信任》

Our parents' experiences and love are undeniable facts. When beneficial, we accept, learn from and repay them. When unsuitable we must not act insistently, which would only bring about family tragedy. One can try patient dialogue and persuasion; if this has been exhausted, then one must bear love's cost and chains, and enjoy the weariness from the bliss of family happiness, both its restraints and pleasures. But do not forget we are still "individuals”. Quietly search in your inner most for that mysterious taste of independence! Because my parents are enlightened, in the deep silent night, on the rare occasion when my mother does not help me--a middle-aged daughter--tuck in, I have the courage to write out a daughter's heartfelt wishes to her parents.

Father, mother, my love for you surpasses everything; I even pray to the heaven above that you will be the first to go. Yet I, the one who lacks the most courage to live, will push on until the very end for you. This for me is too difficult, but I agreed to come back here, to the complications and pressures of Chinese-styled engagements, to eat, to the concerned love you gave me---your darling treasure. But I request that you also give me some degree of a freedom. Because there's an opportunity to breath, on my shoulders this love's heavy burden will transform into responsibility’s pleasure.


父母的经历和爱心，是不可否认的事实。在好的一方面，我们接受、学习、回报，在不合时代的另一方面，一定不可强求，闹出家庭悲剧。慢慢感化，沟通，如果这一些都试尽了，而没有成果，那么只有忍耐爱的负担和枷锁，享受天伦之乐*中一些累人的无奈和欣慰。但是，不能忘了，我们也是“个体”，内心稍稍追求你那一份神秘的自在吧!因为我的父母开明，才有这份勇气，在夜深人静的时候，母亲不再来替我──一个中年的女儿盖被的偶尔自由中，写出了一个子女对父母的心声。

父亲、母亲，爱你们胜于一切，甚而向老天爷求命，但愿先去的是你们。而我，最没有勇气活下去的一个人，为了父母，大撑到最后。这件事情，在我实在是艰难，可是答应回国定居，答应中国式接触的复杂和压力，答应吃饭，答应一切你们对我──心肝宝贝的关爱。那么，也请你们适度的给我自由，在我的双肩上，因为有一口嘘息的机会，将这份爱的重负，化为责任的欣然承担。
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*天伦之乐: this phrase is hard to translate due to its vast cultural and religious context. Basically it regards the deep bonds of love and mutual concern (and enjoyment in life) between humans, family members, etc.

ps: thanks bijou for both your insight and retardation.