I remember

使用微信有10年了，一直到最近才开始在电脑上使用这个app。有天在整理旧文件的时候再次偶遇儿子上初中时候的一篇文章，又读了一遍，非常touching。问儿子想不想看，他说暂时不想。

给他留着，也许有一天他也想读一下。

儿子小学毕业的时候，因为我工作的需要，一家人搬到上海住了三年，这篇文章应该是初二的时候写的，文中描述了从他的视角看这次transition。

Personal Memories

 

Preface: The words you are about to read, are pieces of my past. Glimpses into my memories, memories I put on paper. When you read through my I remembers, you will read into my childhood. The good, and the bad. People I love, places I’ve been, events that shaped me to be who I am now. I hope you can grasp the theme of each I remember. Enjoy!

 

I remember when I was in third grade, during my forensics speech. I remember the confidence. The determination to impress the judges. I remember walking up the stairs. Onto the stage. I remember taking the deep breath. Then the stop. The heartbeat. The petrification. The eyes staring at me. The embarrassment. I wanted the ground under my feet to open and swallow me up.

 

I remember my drum recital. The sounds of the guitar and bass all around me, inserting different colors into the song. I remember my sticks hitting the snare and toms, like gunfire. I remember the singer’s voice. So pure. So angelic. Everyone was a painter. All inserting their own colors and style into the song. Then before I knew it, the song was over. Then came the applause. The clapping. The cheers. It blew me off the stage. We were all painters, and we made a masterpiece.

 

I remember the first day of school. Unfamiliar faces. Unfamiliar hallways and classrooms. Unfamiliar everything. Everything was hazy. I couldn’t swallow my lunch. Then, came people. People with smiles. They sat next to me. And we talked. Laughed. Joked around. Then, I realized who they were. Not people. Not people with smiles. They were new friends.

 

I remember the day I realized who they were. I knew them for quite a while. But I didn’t know who they were. It was Wednesday. We stayed after school. Basketball court. Running around. Playing volleyball. A girl who introduced me to what friendship really meant. A boy whose smile could replace the sun. It was us fighting against the world. We were in the middle of a basketball game, and suddenly, I stopped. You asked me what was wrong. I smiled and replied, nothing. Nothing was wrong that day. Do you want to know what I was thinking? I had a thought. It was just a thought, but it almost brought me to tears. You two are the people I want to remember my whole life. Such a bold sentence. But it’s true. That’s who you two are. I remember a song lyric, a song I used to listen to in New Jersey. “Runaways, we’re the long lost children/ Running to the edge of the world/ Everybody wants to throw us away/ Broken boy meets broken girl.” Such a coincidence that in that moment, I replayed that song in my head. I love you guys.

 

I remember you. Michael. We were two peas in a pod. You were always the smart one. I was always the outgoing one. We fit together so well. We made Han Solo and Chewbacca look lame. I’m so glad I was your best friend. I’m so sad I left. I hope you’re doing ok. I can’t wait to see you again.

 

I remember the Song of my Family. Two parents, and two sisters. A 7 year old and a 4 year old in dog years. I remember coming home to the sound of a piano. Dinner being cooked in the kitchen. Allen, are you home? Dinner cooking. Homework checking. Book reading. Chessboard playing. Mom! I need help! I’m busy! Be quiet. The door opens and dad walks in. Nini goes crazy, jumping all over him, trying to lick his face. Calm down puppy, calm down. My house is a mess, but I love it. Homework on the dinner table. Dinner being cooked in the kitchen, steam reaching for the ceiling. Conference calls in the living room. We finish dinner, and we all take Nini outside. Moments like these, justify the unity that our family holds. Arguments take place, fights break out, but inside, we all know that as a family, we’re gonna last forever.

 

I remember the day I got into the swim team. Getting out of the pool. Body heaving from effort. Blood, sweat, and tears went into training. Getting better every day. Feeling the drops of water drip. Anticipation rising, goggles falling off my head. Trudging towards the other side of the pool, towards Coach Andy. I approach him. An antelope approaching a lion. This was my routine. I always ended up with 42 seconds. Stupid 42 seconds. Always one second away from the time that could allow me into the team. I was expecting 42. I looked up at Coach Andy, and his grin flashed from ear to ear. 41 seconds Allen. Welcome to the team.

 

I remember the hospital. Grandpa fell sick, and we all packed into the car to visit him. I was eight, Alice was three. Still too young to really know what was happening. Cancer was just a word to us. It had no meaning. I remember walking into the room, seeing my dear beloved grandpa on a hospital bed. His eyes were closed, his skin pale like the moon shining above the roof. A doctor came in, and spoke to my parents. “...coma...weak recovery...hope for the best.” I remember my mom. Eyes watering. Whimpering onto my dad’s shoulders. I saw it all. I was young. “What’s wrong with grandpa?” No answer. Just the beep of the monitor beside the bed. Time passed way too quickly. It was time to leave, but I wouldn’t budge. “I want grandpa to know I visited him. When he wakes up, I want him to know that I was here.” My dad stared at me, bewildered. His eyes shimmered for a second, and gave me a paper and a pen. Hi grandpa, I came to visit you today. I hope you wake up soon. I love you. From, Allen. I set it at your bedside grandpa. Right next to your bed. I put it there so you could read it when you woke up. But you never did. Now I’m older. Cancer is no longer just a word to me. Grandpa, your face is a cloud in my memory. But I hold onto you for dear life. I love you, always.

I remember when you were little, Alice. Your beautiful little face, eyes always shimmering in wonder, or excitement. I remember your bubbly little laugh, spreading joy all around the room. We had so much fun. Nerf wars in the basement. Jumping on the bed. I even admit, playing with your dolls was somewhat enjoyable. I remember one day, I was working on math homework. I was nine, you were four. You walked up to me, three teddy bears in one hand, and a lollipop in the other. “ALLEN! I WANNA PLAY!” I looked at you, with annoyance in my eyes. “Be quiet. I’m trying to learn multiplication.” You were confused, your head tilted to the right and you said, “Multiplication? What’s that.” I sighed and replied, “something really hard to do, now go away.” Now flash back to the present. We’re doing homework on the dinner table. “Allen what’s 2 times 8? I don’t get it. Can you help me?” I stared at you. And you gave me that same confused look from three years ago. In my head, my mind was racing. Wait what? This can’t be... she’s doing multiplication already? No way... The truth is, Alice, I’m absolutely stunned at how fast you’ve grown. Sometimes, I wish you were still the young, energetic little girl you used to be. Always looking for a way to make me smile. I wish I could see her more. I miss the feeling of being a brother that you depended on. I miss teaching you how to ride a bike. I miss reading books to you, books with words you couldn’t read. I hope one of these days, you’ll need me again.

I remember saying goodbye. Goodbye to everything that I grew accustomed to. Goodbye to New Jersey. My friends held a party for me. We all met up at the park, and had an awesome time. Pizza. Playgrounds. Music blasting out of speakers. Good vibes all around, trying to overshadow the terrible truth. I was leaving to China. They gave me a box. It used to be a Nike shoebox, but they painted it black, and covered it with nice little quotes. On the inside, it was stuffed to the brim with letters they wrote for me. Letters I read every night before I go to sleep. My favorite quote that’s sketched onto the box is “The song may be over, but the melody lingers on.” I can’t wait to listen to the song again. I’m counting down the days. See you guys in 2020.

 

I remember Joe. My drumming teacher of three years in New Jersey. He was a broadway drummer, playing behind the stage. He loved drumming. It was his heartbeat. I went to his house every Wednesday. 45 minutes of class. I learned everything from him. Rolls. Flams. Rudimental strokes. Journey, AC/DC, Metallica all the way. I left your house everyday with new knowledge in my head. I can still hear your voice in my head when I play the drums. “Keep your grip lower on the stick. Keep steady on the beat. Never hesitate to improvise.” I am where I am now thanks to you. Thanks.

I remember the hurricane. Hurricane Sandy. The storm of 2012. I was at home. A bird, safe in its nest. Then the wind picked up. Trees swayed, and I could hear noises surrounding me on all four walls. Then the rain. Sheets and sheets of what seemed like endless bombardments from the skies. Then the power left us. The light above my head flickered out, and so did all the other lights in the house. My parents took birthday candles and lit them, so we could illuminate the living room in a warm soft glow. It was scary, yet somewhat peaceful. I slept on the couch that night. I couldn’t fall asleep upstairs because of the endless pattering on the roof above me. The next morning, I woke up to birds chirping. I looked out the window. Upturned trees. Broken roofs. Shingles littered all over the street. It inflicted around 70 billion dollars in destruction. 106 people dead. The remains of a nightmare.

I remember the winter in New Jersey. The snow was a blanket covering everything. Sheets and sheets of stark white. Rivers once surging with raging water, froze into a pale blue. Hot Chocolate. Marshmallows. Sitting by the fire, wrapped in a bundle of blankets. Then, the activity. Hockey, sledding, skiing down a mountain. Snowball fights, snowmen and snow angels. But my favorite part, was just laying in the snow. The sounds around you are muffled. You open your eyes, and all you see are powders falling onto you face, melting upon contact. Peaceful.

 

I remember the day I realized the amount of dedication my dad has. Grandpa fell sick. He was in the hospital. But in that room, surrounded by doctors and nurses around the clock, only one person mattered to him the most. My dad. My dad would go to work early in the morning. Come home at around 5. Take two bites of dinner. And then rush back to the hospital. Just like that. Every single day. My grandpa was my mom’s dad. My dad’s father-in-law. But even so, the amount of love, dedication, and grit my dad has. Unreal.