A Silent Journey to Hometown

I was completely unplugged - partly self-imposed and partly due to circumstances - for about two weeks. The journey to my parents' home in Hunan was long, emotional and necessary. The actual stay in that little town where my parents live was short, only six days - but it felt much longer. Every moment was stretched tight to its limit just like the rubber bands in my mouth; I could feel every second ticking away while feeling mom's pulse pulsating loudly in my ears. I spent most of my time in silence, sitting next to mom's bed, holding her hand searching for the right words to say...

We didn't stay up until the clock turned 12 at midnight on the Chinese New Year's Eve - a tradition that we had held onto for every Spring Festival family gathering. We didn't even watch the Chunjie Wanhui. It just didn't feel right to watch a quintessential Chunjie show while mom was in bed.

Firecrackers were crackling up all over the place nonstop for the whole night on the New Year's Eve. We had no where to escape to; under heavy blankets, the crackling noise was muffled, but not shut out completely. I hate firecrackers! What's the point? Is this the essence of Chinese traditions? If all people want is a bit of festive noise, maybe there are more environmentally friendly ways of creating such noise without sending all that extra sulfur into the already polluted air. The so-called new policy allowed people to set off firecrackers for the first three days of the Lunar New Year; of course, many people jumped to the opportunity and embraced the new freedom with excessive amount of enthusiasm, as if the Fortune God is going to bless the household who set off the most amount and the loudest firecrackers. A bunch of superstitious crap!

I don't want to repaint the grim picture of seeing mom lying in bed in pain. Every touch of her body tightened my stomach pushing a knot to my throat and filling tears in my eyes. Washing her makes me realize our body is such a weak defence against human sufferings. For the first time in my life, I began to face death and understand death in a different light; it's no longer other people's stories. It's my own story; it's the body that gave birth to me.

I hope mom can achieve a peaceful mindset in the midst of all the pain and unresolved feelings which I'll have to save for the private pages of my journal.

Love. Peace. Serenity. Dignity. Grace. Magnanimity.

Selective Memory - Don't Worry, Be Happy!

"What did I do in the past couple of weeks?" I asked myself, but I couldn't remember anything at first try. Then, as flashbacks started to play in my mind, it's funny to see what actually stands out in my memory: the meals I had, the errands I did like exchanging a water filter, lunches with co-workers and M at CJ's, John's Wok, Pike Place Market and Uwajumaya's food court on different days, watching "Lost" on TV and a quick excursion to the Curiosity Shop with M etc. - basically little trivial things that make up the bulk part of one's daily life. Other bigger events seem to have been pushed to the back of my head - rushing M's passport renewal and visa application, getting ready for my interview, getting ready to leave for China. Maybe I just mentally didn't want to deal with these headaches, so those somewhat stressful items were unconsciously being suppressed. Looking back, all those worries were so unnecessary - "hey, it's all good! and selective memories help too!"

Now that small details are emerging from my memory, I, however, have lost all the enthusiasm to recount what I did. I'd rather highlight every body's favorite subject - weather. The weather has been unpredictably good for almost three weeks now. The forecast was off almost everyday. Instead of rain as forecasted, we've had a pleasant weather pattern: drizzly rain or misty fog in the morning, then the sun would come out late in the morning, and the warm sun made lunch outings more pleasant too, then the glorious sunset would accompany me on my walk to M's office every day.

Here is a little sweet weather-related story that added an extra gallon of positive fuel into my life. Last Wednesday, while taking a walk during lunch hour at Myrtle Edward Park and pausing to enjoy the view of snow-capped mountains in the Olympic National Park, a guy cheerfully chatted up with me about his open heart surgery, and told me how thankful he was for not only the new pig valve he just received, but also the good weather we've been having.
"Can you believe, at age 67, they found out that I was born with a defect on my heart - 2 valves instead of 3. And that explained why I was never and could never be a good swimmer. And all throughout my youthful years, I'd been this little fat kid. Now I feel normal again. I'm going to follow Doc's suggestion and walk every day when the weather allows."

I was moved by his optimism and zeal in embracing a heart with new pig valves. He is full of life at the age of 67!