送交者: 丹丹 于 December 04, 2002 22:40:04:
Grandfather Through Grandmother’s Eyes
(By Diane)
My aunt had left the house for grocery shopping and I was to stay at home with
my grandmother. I liked staying with her because she always let me do whatever
I wanted; I was her favorite grandchild. She and I sat on the kitchen table. My
fingers glided aimlessly over the etchings on the Chinese styled table. I
remember the scent of garlic that lingered in the air. My grandmother disliked
the strong odor and promptly stood up, straightened her gray shirt and pants
and wobbled out to the balcony; her feet were tied up when she was a little
girl and had ever since impeded her walking. I followed her because I was
curious about what she was going to do. When I reached the balcony, she had
already sat down on a frail wooden chair. I always thought that only my
grandmother could sit on that chair because it was too weak to hold anyone
else. Around the chair was a cluster of all types of plants; my grandmother insisted on putting plants everywhere because she believed it brought fresher air. It was bright and clear outside and the morning breeze lifted away the
strong scent of garlic coming from the kitchen. I was observing a worm in the
plant soil when I heard my grandmother sigh. I took advantage of the moment to
ask her a long withheld question because I knew I would not come back to China
for a few years. In a few days, I was to return to the U.S. and start eighth
grade. I had always wondered about my grandfather because he died just a few
months before my birth. “What was my grandfather like?” I asked in Chinese.
Then I realized that I needed to say it louder and slower because my
grandmother was half-deaf.
When she heard, she cocked her head slightly and said, “Grandfather?” She
seemed a bit confused because I had never mentioned him before. I sat on the
cement floor and looked up at her. Then she laughed; her laugh always amused me
because she did it so often and meant it so thoroughly. Then she said, “He was
a stubborn man.”
I smiled and thought of my dad, who surely inherited that trait. Then I asked,
“Did you love him?” I knew that they had an arranged marriage and was not
sure if they loved each other.
She said, “What is there to love or not to love? We didn’t have time for such
emotions. We had to take care of the family. He worked and I cooked; it was
like a job, you have to do it because there was no time for other things.” She
then became quiet as though remembering the past was slowly causing her pain.
She suddenly broke the eerie silence. She said, “I remember his bad temper; he
would kick over tables and chairs when he was angry. He was a complex man;
sometimes he would keep to himself and other times he would throw his rage
everywhere. But I respected him, he worked hard and was able to feed our family
of seven.”
“What was he like outside the house?” I asked.
“Everyone liked him. He was so nice to his friends, always doing them favors
but never expecting anything back. That’s another reason I respected him.” I
thought about that and quietly understood why he was that way. It was almost a
custom in China for the husband to be friendly outside and stern inside the
house.
My grandmother then chuckled to herself and said, “I remember on the day of
his birthday, I cooked him the best fish I could find and decorated it with
carrots and green onion. He came home and saw it on the table. He stopped and
stared at the fish. His face was frozen. Then he slammed his fist on the flimsy
table and yelled, ‘How can you cook this? We cannot eat so extravagantly all
the time! It is a waste of money!’ I was confused but all I could do was look
down and nod.” Then she paused as if purposely creating suspense. She smiled
at me and started gently combing through my hair with her long lean fingers.
I began to think that my grandfather was a harsh and unreasonable man. But I
soon realized that during that time of Communist rule, many people had to give
up certain luxuries such as fish and extravagant items.
My grandmother continued her story, “During dinner that day all he ate was
rice and some cabbage, he did not even glance at the fish. The next day I
cooked the simplest meal, just cabbage and rice pudding. When your grandfather
came home, I saw him carry a large wiggling fish by his side. He put it on the
table and grunted, ‘Tonight we eat fish.’ I knew that that was his apology so
I smiled and ran to the kitchen to cook it.” She smiled while she recalled the
event, as if glad that those times were over and yet still a bit nostalgic.
I sat still and looked into her gray eyes as she gazed through the balcony
window in silence. From that moment, I realized what my grandfather was like
and I respected him. I also understood part of my grandmother’s life. I
understood her more as a person rather than just as a grandmother.