It was a night bright with the moon. I was looking down from the height of my seat in a bus, onto the vivid gradations of light and shadow that made the picture. A small quiet path lied in front of the motorway, where the silver lake rolled and rolled, flattering the moon. Not many trees, thin grass. The silhouette of a scholar tree was against a dark blue sky. Xiao, my boyfriend was sitting by me playing his guitar. His smiling eyes were like stars shinning in the soft wind….
“What are you pondering there?”, someone was talking to me and I was awaken from my deep indulgence of the past. My colleague, Steven, walked over and sat next to me.
“Nothing, Steven, I was just thinking about this trip.”
“Yeah, the bosses were generous to shout us a night out, aren’t they?”
“Sure they are.” I answered with a gentle smile.
Actually I am not excited about this trip at all. To me, there is no pleasure to see some of my colleagues get drunk and display themselves as silly kids. But I guess it is important to make the appearance since it is a staff outing.
The motorway was busy. An entire world bustled and rushed beyond the dark peak of the hills, yet to me the night seemed empty, as hollow as the vacant chambers of a stone cold, dead heart. Shivering, I slumped deeper in my seat.
Serried ranks of native evergreens receded up the slopes that flanked the motorway, the rock formations and shadows of the evergreens did not reduce the emptiness of the bitter September night. As the bus descended the winding blacktop, the trees and moonlight reflections seemed to float past as if they were only dream images without real substance.
“Are you okay? You look so pale.”, I think Steven was a bit puzzled about the tiredness on my face. As he leaned towards me, I said, “ I am perfectly fine, thank you.”
I had to admit the death of loved ones had incalculable emotional weight. It pressed on the mind, quickly deflating every moment of buoyancy, crushing each new blossom of joy.
“You don’t have to be always so polite and distant to me, you know, I care about you.”, as Steven approaching my hand, his blue eyes reminded me only that Moon Festival night’s guitar.
“ I know, Steven, and I do appreciate that.”
“Then can I shout you a dinner sometime?”
“I am so sorry, Steven.”
“Why?”
“Because you are not Chinese.”
“Oh, you know you hurt my feelings, and I can’t even sue you for discrimination.”
“yeah, it will do your male ego good, though. Hehehe.”
Steven looked at me, laughed. “Alright, but let’s at least enjoy this trip, shall we?”
“Sure, we shall.”
I remember that was the last time I could see Xiao’s face. His features faded as time goes by. All those sad days elapsed without making any more marks on me.
Life goes on, and so it is.
Every cliché you ever read or heard about my city is true. The atmosphere is laid-back, the climate warm, the people tolerant. Life has slowed to an almost manageable pace. There are earthquakes, sure, and the occasional Pacific tempest, but even the first garden had a snake, and most of the time this is a benign and beautiful place to be.
Being Chinese and a woman, there are parts of the city where I might feel disadvantaged. But when I walk out on the patio overlooking the ocean and smell the sage, or sit harbourside in Devonport eating clams and drinking iced Chardonnay; when hiking over emerald-green hills to Bucklands Beach, or riding my bicycle through olive groves; when I am among friends, when he is laying beside me, falls asleep and smiles in his dream like a baby … at those times I know what life means, and where it is for me…
Yesterday is a story
Today is a gift
Tomorrow is a mystery
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