I wait for a ride to work in front of the
local elementary school. The block is filled with children. I perch
on low brick fence and listen to the novel Shanghai Girls by Lisa
See, on my MP3 player. A very young man holds the hand of an older
woman. Within steps of me he trips and falls to the ground. He
makes an elaborate showing on rubbing his knee as the woman helps him
up.
He gets up, takes a few steps and
pauses in front of me.
“Did you get a boo boo?” I ask
He nods, and asks, What are you
listening to?'
It is a story of a Chinese family that
comes to America, I tell him. I do not tell him that writer recounts
the terrible prejudice they encounter,
He would like to stay and chat, but his
escort thinks it is time to move on. I do not understand the Asian
Language she speaks, but I can guess the words that come out of her
mouth are instructions to say good morning, because at the end he
turns to me, bows and says, “good morning.” She has not
understood a word of our exchange.
They move on. My ride comes. I am off
to school.
We are all off to school.
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