During our Thanksgiving culture class with our students we asked them to answer six questions about thankfulness (which were then written on the feathers of the turkeys we had them craft.) In the spirit of gratitude, here are my six answers.
A memory I am thankful for:
A song or painting I am thankful for:
A person I am thankful for:
Many individuals worked diligently to aid our return to the adopted motherland, but I feel that Jojo was excessive in his assistance. From taking a day off work (with a friend) to meet us in Hong Kong in May so they could carry our three large suitcases and one carry-on suitcase across the border, then to hold said luggage for the summer, followed by meeting us at the Guangzhou IKEA to schlep us, our luggage, and our new purchases to Zhongshan in his car. He even stayed to put together a dresser. Furthermore, he had declared that should we fly into Guangzhou upon our post-summer return, he was going to greet us in order to deliver us to our campus. Jojo has always been special to us, and his actions were merely a reflection of the incredible individual we have known for years.
It goes without saying that we missed a chunk of life with some dear friends being barred from the adopted motherland. (We definitely have some children we need to meet.) Therefore, it was a delight that one of our first events upon returning was a wedding - reunion combo. The Kingdom Girls were roommates in uni and have remained firm friends with each other and us since those days. They are a remarkable group.
At the end of September, we convened in Shunde to attend the wedding of King. A precious memory in of itself, however an unexpected moment occurred when Zach and I were asked to participate in the tea ceremony. This ceremony is when the couple honor their immediate family members, especially their parents and grandparents. In return for a cup of tea, verbal blessings and hongbao are given to the couple. Thus, to be asked to participate was an immense honor. We cried. We sipped the tea and gave our blessing and hongbao. It was an honor to be her teacher. It is a privilege to call her a friend. It was a joy to celebrate her and her husband on their official ceremony.
A food I am thankful for:
As a vegetarian, some concoction involving eggs and tomatoes tends to be my option when it comes to eating out in China. Yes, we laugh a lot that Chinese consider eggs and tomatoes their primary vegetables. Nonetheless, it has become a staple of my Chinese diet and I missed it fiercely during our virus refugeeing days. Thus, I have eaten tomato-egg noodles (fānqié jīdàn miàn 番茄鸡蛋面) often since our return.
A place I am thankful for:
China has spoiled me with access to a 50m swimming pool. I absolutely adored having a pool 23 steps from my front porch in Chiang Rai and I loved my sweaty 8km walks for a swim in Long Khanh. However, in China, I get the actual workout I want in a pool. Now granted, each swim is a tale of survival. Every swim day includes the internal questions: How many people will run into me? Or hit me? Or randomly stand in my lane to be hit? Or loiter at the end of the lane so I end up kicking them on my flip turn? Or will the lane line attack me? But, hey, if I die it will be in my happy place - water.
An item I am thankful for:
At the beginning of May, I not only said goodbye to Long Khanh but also a beloved, trusted sidekick - my backpack. After eleven years, its fabric could not hold its stitches, stuffing, or adventuresome self any longer. It disintegrated with each plop onto a chair, pull on a zipper, and swing onto the shoulders. When I purchased it so many years ago in Zhanjiang, I had no idea how many kilometers it would traverse with me - from airplanes to mountain hikes to ancient ruins to markets. It carried everything from mangoes to toilet paper to books. Much to Zach's chagrin, I do tend to use items to their demise; this pack was no different. It was everything I loved in a backpack and it was with deep sadness when I laid it beside the trash pile, extremely grateful that it was with me through so much of life.
A song or painting I am thankful for:
When we turned right into the gallerie, it was the crowd before Liberty Leading the People that immediately drew the eye. With a few more steps and a broader sweep of the exhibit, a much larger painting caught my eye just beyond the crowd. It was not an instant recognition, but rather the nudging of something familiar yet forgotten.
I knew the painting.
I knew the painting very well.
It was mere moments until I swirled into my internal pensieve; taken back to that art classroom at the end of the hall, my eighth grade year, standing in front of my art teacher, Mr. Smith, who was talking to me about a painting printout I had clutched in my hand.
The Raft of Medusa, my chosen art piece for an art report.
I vividly remember being thoroughly entangled in the story - a shipwreck where the survivors did horrific things to cling to survival. I remember grappling with the macabre and the realism of the painting. I remember my dismay that people could be just forgotten. I remember being amazed that someone could paint such a captivating scene of a truly ghastly event. I remember Mr. Smith chatting with me about the clunky, big thoughts my pre-teen brain was trying to work through in order to vaguely understand such a painting.
I do not remember learning that it was owned by the Louvre. Yet, here I was, years later, staring at a painting that I had scrutinized for hours in printouts, art books, and an encyclopedia. It was gigantic and overwhelming; the shock of the entire scenario causing tears to spring to my eyes.
This is the power of art.
Not only can it be the connection to things beyond our purview, but a connection to past selves. Because I really could not help but wonder if my eighth-grade self would ever believe she would be a girl who would cross oceans, travel far and wide, and one day gaze upon the actual painting rather than a picture clutched in her hand.
