A child upon the suzhou river

Quincy L

I had just arrived back in Shanghai after 4 months in America. I want to go for a walk alone. 

5:30pm. Earbuds in with new American music playing, I stride along the Suzhou river, steps and treks upon bricks decades old. People walk along and towards me. A soft wind blows into the branches of trees above me, making them swing to and fro.

I wanted to rest for a bit because that’s what holidays are for. I found a bench right next to one of the trees. The trail in front of me, the river in front of the trail.

This time it feels like there is something rebelling within me: it’s my ego’s unrest. I have to do something, I thought. Peace almost disturbs my mind. Somehow. I thought by returning back to Shanghai I could escape this feeling – how wrong I was.  

I saw a child walking past the same place that I just did. 

5:35pm. He walks along that river with his grandpa. I don’t think they cared particularly about the bricks, the wind, or me. I took my earbuds out to listen to their conversation. They said that they were about to head home and that the boy’s Mom prepared a dinner with the boy’s favorite dish. With a bottle of JianJiao drink in his hands – which I assumed his grandpa must have bought for him – he jumped and bounced along the track towards his home, not a single bit of worry leaking through his smile. His grandpa loves him very much and follows behind with steady and committed steps.

As their footsteps and dialogue floated further and further away, the familiar sounds of the bustling streets and the flow of the river trickled into my ears. It made my mind at peace.

My Mom called me and told me to go back home. Your favorite dish is there. Grandpa is waiting for you to come back. I got up. 

5:45pm. I meandered along that river that I walked along so many times as a child. Steps and treks upon bricks decades old – the same old bricks that have always been there. Strangers walk along and towards me. A wind blows around but not into me – not for the tree branches though, as they sway to and fro. 

A wind blows around but not into me – but my heart somehow sways to and fro just like the tree branches. That wind, that familiar wind; That river, that old river; These bricks, the same old bricks; It feels to me as though they are surrounding me in a grand embrace to welcome me back home. 

I caught up right behind the old man and child that I just saw. The child is clearly energized and capable of running, yet he waits for his grandpa without complaint. I did not realize how slow they walked and how ambitious my strides were. It feels strange, seeing how unworried their steps were.

I want to ask that child. How do you walk so slow?

I imagine he would say: I really really don’t know! Are you laughing at me because I’m small? Give me 10 years and we will race. Just you wait!

10 years later, I wish I could walk slowly like him, to live the beautiful view of this river for a longer time before I inevitably get sucked into that void of sheer egoism. 

I wish I could walk backwards, into my childhood where I did not care about that view around me.

I want to tell him, please, walk slower.