It's been a while but I've been busy with work. Busy season just ended at PwC and it was really tough for me for a few reasons but one in particular. My grandfather, on my mother's side, passed away in late July.
I got an email from my mom on a Friday right after lunch; felt like throwing up. I didn't know how to deal with it so I stayed at work and finished the day. Couldn't focus on anything and I didn't tell anybody cause didn't know how. A memory of my grandfather kept replaying in my head after that day; it was a really good memory. Something that only I know about him.
My grandparents on my mother's side all live in a village called Yangquan about 2 hours outside the city where I grew up and we used to go visit them every now and then. The house is a flat one story structure surrounding a courtyard on three sides. The roof is accessible from the back via stairs near the outhouse (bathroom). When I was there the roof was a forbidden zone; no kids allowed. It was a great mystery that filled my my innocent brain with wild possibilities.
In China people take naps after lunch, kind of like siestas in Spain. One day after lunch, when everyone else was asleep, my grandfather grabbed my hand and told me to come with him. He quietly led me to the outhouse stairs and up to the roof. I couldn't believe it!!! My grandpa was a rebel. He let go of my hand and I let my wild imagination fly. For the next 10 minutes my arms turned into the wings of an airplane and my mouth became the powerful, loud engine pushing the plane through the air. For a few moments I flew over the small village of Yangquan and on to the city and through the rivers. For a few moments I felt completely free and unencumbered by arbitrary rules adults set forth. I was FLYING. I felt truly happy.
My grandpa watched with a big smile on his face, giving me enough space to roam but also attentively watching. He was probably afraid that my youthful exuberance would carry me off the roof and on to the concrete floors below, or that I would actually believe I could fly and jump off like R. Kelly would. But I WAS flying, I really believed it at that moment. I can't remember coming down from the roof or that moment ending; I guess I don't want to remember. In my memory that moment never ended. I can still feel the wind rushing through my hair, the crisp rural air in my lungs and the joy I felt up on that roof. He is gone now and all I have left are memories like this. But it's all I really need.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Philly Adventures: Wawa
If you have been around me for the past few years I probably have mentioned Wawa to you and described how awesome it is. There's a reason I love the convenient store so much and it might not be what you think. In case you don't know here's a link to their website. You can see how great it is.
So when I first came to the US I hung out with my dad all the time because he was searching for a job for the first 6 months or so. School had ended and it was summer time so my dad looked after me for the summer. I brought my roller blades from China and wanted to keep skating. My skills were improving and I really enjoyed it, so my dad would take me to Washington Square near Independence Hall almost everyday to skate. While I skated he would sit on a bench and read the Chinese newspaper. Sometimes I would chase squirrels and pigeons. When I was done skating we would walk to where my mom works and sit around that area. There's a field outside of the building where she worked and we would hang out there.
Usually this was around the time I got hungry and, what do you know, there was a Wawa around the corner. We were the cost saving immigrants so buying Wawa sandwiches and sodas was a bit too expensive at the time but there were Hot Dogs for $1. So everyday we would enter that Wawa and I would get a hot dog with ketchup. It was something I looked forward to everyday without fail. Wawa became the hot dog place and it wasn't until I was a little older that I realized I could buy other things from there.
I admit, Wawa's food is average. It's not as hyped up as I make it out to be and anyone expecting something more will surely be disappointed. I'm a simple man, with simple tastes so Wawa's good enough for me. But I go there because it's that childhood store that I always went to. I love it so much because it fed my childish appetite for hot dogs and created that simple memory of having a really small picnic with my dad everyday. It has become a habit and old habits die hard.
So when I first came to the US I hung out with my dad all the time because he was searching for a job for the first 6 months or so. School had ended and it was summer time so my dad looked after me for the summer. I brought my roller blades from China and wanted to keep skating. My skills were improving and I really enjoyed it, so my dad would take me to Washington Square near Independence Hall almost everyday to skate. While I skated he would sit on a bench and read the Chinese newspaper. Sometimes I would chase squirrels and pigeons. When I was done skating we would walk to where my mom works and sit around that area. There's a field outside of the building where she worked and we would hang out there.
Usually this was around the time I got hungry and, what do you know, there was a Wawa around the corner. We were the cost saving immigrants so buying Wawa sandwiches and sodas was a bit too expensive at the time but there were Hot Dogs for $1. So everyday we would enter that Wawa and I would get a hot dog with ketchup. It was something I looked forward to everyday without fail. Wawa became the hot dog place and it wasn't until I was a little older that I realized I could buy other things from there.
I admit, Wawa's food is average. It's not as hyped up as I make it out to be and anyone expecting something more will surely be disappointed. I'm a simple man, with simple tastes so Wawa's good enough for me. But I go there because it's that childhood store that I always went to. I love it so much because it fed my childish appetite for hot dogs and created that simple memory of having a really small picnic with my dad everyday. It has become a habit and old habits die hard.
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