Yvette Lee
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Yvette Lee retweetledi

Happy Father’s Day!
We are used to being in a long-distance relationship, from as far back as I could remember. Then, as now, the miles between us have never diminished the power of our bond.
When I lived with grandparents in Beijing and you were in Dalian, our relationship was physical. We “fought” hard. You wielded an arsenal of moves - the “One Finger Gong,” the “Tickle Fist” - which I countered with “Monkey Hops,” until my inevitable defeat by your finisher - the “Thousand Pound Anchor” - left me pinned and awaiting rescue from an unimpressed mother.
I missed you, but I learned to rationalise your absence by accepting that the city of Dalian was your first duty. That sentiment was encapsulated in a poem I wrote for you at nine. I recall it still because you recited it so often, and always to my embarrassment:
In twilight’s hush, families meet;
One courtyard alone lacks a father’s greet.
Return after the morrow he has vowed;
But duty prevails over the longing son.
By the time you and ma moved back to Beijing, I was at boarding school in the UK. I thought I knew everything - except my own ignorance. I brushed off your broken-record compliments on how I could “use a computer”, or how my English was getting better than yours. I wanted to rather impress you with the bit of economics I studied, so I wrote a precocious essay on how to resolve the trade war with the EU that you were handling.
During one school break, ma was away, leaving you and I alone for ten days. We competed in dawn push-ups, sit-ups, and teeth-chattering cold showers. I made toast dipped in bacon grease for breakfast that I perfected ruing school breaks, and you whipped up eggs and tomatoes on hand-pulled noodles for dinner, which supposedly recalled our Shanxi roots.
I thought years of boarding school had inoculated me against homesickness, but after those ten days, it reared its ugly head again - the mere thought of you brought heartache. I was back in prep school days, hiding in the bathroom to cry after a showing of The Snowman. An abominable film!
When the family moved to Chongqing, I was in university. You finally began treating me as an adult. I scheduled time with the office and we’d take long walks around the bamboo-lined yard. The conversations were invariably asymmetric: I pricked my ears to you recitals of Wen Tianxiang, Fan Zhongyan, Tan Sitong; to your lectures on duty, country, and all that; and to your interminable warnings about safety and not becoming like one of those despicable brats.
Back then, I was eager to step out of your shadows, just as I saw you once stepped out of yeye’s. Now, after thirteen years of “solo levelling,” and relishing every step with fibrous intensity, I’ve finally earned the confidence to bask in the warmth of your shadow.
—
父亲节快乐!
自记事起,我们便习惯了相隔千里的父子相处。昔日如此,如今亦然 - 距离从未削弱我们的牵念。
那时你和妈在大连,我留在北京。我们的感情是“打”出来的。你使出“一指功”,“咯吱拳”, 我回敬“猴跳”,终被你的“千斤坠”锁死,只得等在袖手傍观的妈妈救我。我想你,但也学得理智应对,因为我明白,大连才是你的首要职责。为此,九岁那年,我写下一首你逢人便念、让我羞到想遁的诗:
时晚民子遇,
独院无父存。
要知答明归,
做真忘盼儿。
等你和妈回到北京,我已在英国寄宿学校。你爱夸我“会用电脑啦”,“英文赶上我了”, 我总不以为然。那时我最自以为是了,学了点皮毛经济学,便写篇自以为高明的论文,教你化解手里的中欧贸易战。
一次假期,妈妈出差,家里只剩你我,我们相依为命十天。我们早起比赛俯卧撑、仰卧起坐、冲冷水澡。我早餐做培根油面包, 你晚饭做西红柿炒蛋。我以为多年住校早已免疫乡愁,可那十天之后,只要想到你就心口发疼,仿佛又回到早期住校,躲进厕所,因看《雪人》而啜泣的那会儿。
家迁到重庆时,我已上大学。你终于把我当成人看待。我每跟办公室约好时间,跟你在院子里散步。对话多半单向 —我听你背诵文天祥、范仲淹、谭嗣同的诗词,讲对家国职责的情怀;听你告诫出门注意安全,严厉防止纨绔子弟的行为。
当年我急着挣脱你的背影,想像你当初在爷爷背影后闯出,自己拼一条自己的路一样。十三年来,我得以索偿,爽快的、淋漓尽致的自我发挥。 今天,终于有足够自信,享受在爸爸背影下的温暖。

English

在全网的凝视下割肉,是一种酷刑😞
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