That first love, so sweet, so innocent, and yet, it got, killed off, by her adult counterparts, and the parents, are the biggest, hardest obstacle in their children’s, romantic relationships here, translated…
The Innocence of the Love, without the Goodbyes, Not Even a Hug, Only the Wiping Away of the Tears, as We Turned Away, to Head Back to Our Separate, Homes………
We Would Totally End Up Bad if Our Parents Found Out
On the summer as I was about to start high school, I’d received a letter from him, on the frontlines in Kinmen, with a photo of him, in his, army uniform, a rifle on his back. He’d told me, that he was about finished up, with his, service terms, during the time he’d served, he’d felt, unsettled, unsure, and the only thing constant was me, holding him steady………suddenly, there came, that race in my heart, my excitement, but followed by that heart of, unsettlement: if my parents were to ever know about this, I would be, screwed that’s, for certain!
He was, my teacher, who’d just, graduated out of the teacher’s college in my fifth grade year. Back then, the math lessons my homeroom instructor taught, put us all inside a fog; the teacher asked him onboard to help: he was excellent in Chinese, back then, Taiwan was famous for enforcing the Mandarin movement, selecting a student out of every school, to go up for a speech contest nationally, my homeroom asked him to coach me, the head of the class, singly; he was, also, a good basketball player, passed the ball like lightning too, he looked, so handsome on the court. Anyway, he’d, left, that good impression inside of my mind then.
illustration from UDN.com
After elementary school, like my father had hoped, I’d, tested and gotten, admitted to the public middle school; but as I’d, graduated, I’d, boldly, defied my father, refused, to get automatic entrance into the all-women teacher’s academy, and, selected, the high school department of my middle school to study, as my goal for the future was to, get into, medical school.
That was an era where the sons weighed more than the daughters, my aunts’ generations, they’re mostly all, child-brides, or adopted daughters, and some of my elementary school female classmates too. The village was, too conservative, and, as I walked past the houses, I’d heard those inside claiming, “we not only, shamed our ancestors, if our daughters don’t follow our words, and rather than sending them to haul out the offering hog, I’d much rather, chop her up, and make her into feed.” And, as the older girls in the neighborhood are marrying men who aren’t, as well rounded, or well-to-do as their elders had hoped, I’d heard the adults, cussing the ladies out, to the point, that I’d, felt sorry for the women, and I’d, thought on: the marriages that didn’t get blessed by the elders, how will they, work out? Will they find, bliss?
How Did it, Become, Like This?
The adults’ rantings, served its, purpose of warning those of us who are younger, and, it’d, started, circling in my mind, in the form of doubts, I’d, told myself, to NEVER go astray. So, as I read the letter from my teacher whom I’d had a crush on, I’d not dared, write him back. As he was finished with his service terms, and asked me out for a movie, I’d, always, found me a classmate to accompany me, and had her sit between me and my teacher; I’d gone on these, “dates”, with an extra female students.
And, through these, few short, outings, his wavy hair, his manners, it’d, made my heart bloomed; but I knew on the inside clearly, that my father would’ve, never condone me dating him, because he’s, an “outsider”.
I’d once heard my mother told me, that before I started school, once as my father took the bus back to Shihlin, there was, a foreigner with a foreign accent, who’d learned that my father was getting off at the paper factory in Shihlin, he’d, asked my father to take him to the paper factory to find someone. As they arrived to the station, my father took off his backpack, left it inside a tofu shop he knew the owner of, then, helpfully, led the “outsider” to the mills. But, as this foreigner saw the security guard at the Shihlin papermill, he’d accused my father in a loud voice, for “robbing” his wallet!
Holy, how did it come up like this? With the language barriers, my father couldn’t explain himself articulately, later, he was, dragged into the local subprecinct to get a statement down, and, the crowds, they’d, gathered outside, and started whispering amongst themselves. Thankfully, my father was able to, tell the officers, the amount of money he had on him, how many of each value of bills he had, plus, the owner of the tofu shop vouched for him too, and found someone, to pay his bail, that was how my father was released, to go back home.
And, since, my father could, NEVER erase how he was, blackened in name by that outsider, and he’d, hated them ever since, and you can imagine, as my parents learned, of how I was, going out with an “outsider”, how they would, react. And, as I saw my teacher for the last and final time, he’d, opened up the letter from my mother, with that scent of loss on his face, “please sir, don’t hurt my young and naïve daughter.”
This pure love, without any goodbye, not even, a hug, only, the tears that fell to the ground, as I walked myself home. Love was like that young bird, starting to soar away, high, into the skies, slowly, became like the smokes that, dissipated, into the air, but, that sweetness, that sourness of my, very first taste of love, it got saved, inside the depth of my heart, since I was, sixteen, to seventy-eight.
And so, you can see from this, how the stereotypes could’ve, ruined something that might be something good, like how this young woman’s love toward her school teacher, it was, so pure, but, the adults ruined it, made it into, something awful, and she was, forced to, give up this, first love of hers, and she still, remembered how he’d, made her feel, now she’s, nearing, eighty years of age. Some things, we just, don’t let go of, or forget, that easily…
JUST the Unwinding of Thoughts 