It was a simple text, on a random drowsy Monday morning.
“I read the photo album you made, I teared up a little bit…”My best friend in Beijing told me that, and then I found myself smiling to my phone like a silly person in the office.
The idea of shipping a hand-crafted album all the way from America to China makes me sound like a stupid insane person. I could have typed electronic cards, purchased a nice pricy perfume for her, or posted a photo of us with touching words on Instagram, yet whatever I was about to do, any of those, is just not good enough.
Not good enough that it only takes several taps, sprinkles, swipes to disappear in seconds.
It comes to me that as a complete urbanite living in an unfamiliar city alone, I haven’t put my whole heart and taken my time into doing one thing for so long. It took me a while to think how to write down the Chinese sentences on papers now. Gradually, after being immersed in typing in English, I hesitated writing in my mother language, a kind of language buried in a corner of my heart that hasn’t been touched in my busy routine life.
Seeing my best friend once per year is full of bittersweet feelings. It makes the time go very fast, fast enough that sometime I don’t actually believe that I have always been away. Sometimes we ran out of overlapping time to text or talk, because her morning is my night, and my morning is her night again.
The feeling of being away from home is very interesting and surprising. It feels like you lived a different life in a different country that actually didn’t count. And when you finally go back home, you restart at where you paused.
“We must be together forever, wherever we are…”, she texted.
“Trust me, we will.”, I replied, “we can chat later after you wake up in the morning?”
“Yeah, let’s talk when you are free, good night!”
When she fell asleep, my morning just began. I switched to my computer screen and buried my head into the thick stack of files. But for some reason, today my day doesn’t feel like one of those days.
I don’t know when I will be picking up my thoughts again, or when I will be seeing her, but there is something I am really sure. There are so many people come and go in our lives, yet we will forever stay with our whole hearts.
It’s like her morning is my night. She is the other me who stayed at home, as I am her who is always ten thousand miles away.