Things I'm thankful for
Holidays like Thanksgiving where the whole family gets together throws my upbringing in high relief, because while my friends are complaining about their great-aunts or their sister's annoying boyfriend, I'm thinking, I don't have that. My entire extended family is back in China. And this year, my dad's not flying back until Saturday afternoon, so it's just me, my mom, and my brother.
Today I was treated to a singular experience. I asked my mom about how she and my dad met, and she told me about how they were born one day apart (which I knew) and were both cared for by my mom's grandmother for the first few months of their lives (which I did not). She told me about how she was working in a cotton mill in Shanghai while my dad was teaching physics in Beijing, and that they wrote letters to each other for years, even after they got married, because they weren't able to live with each other in the same city. And continued to write letters, even after I was born, and that they never had more than two or three months paycheck at a time because most of their income was spent on train tickets, visiting each other. And that immigrating to Canada was the start of my parents' lives too, because it meant that the three of us could all finally live together.
It was hard to listen to that without crying. It's quite romantic. I heard stories about my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, and about how silly or clever I was as an infant. And I've always known how hardworking and loving my parents were, even when we had our disagreements. And since we say stuff like this at Thanksgiving, I'm really thankful for it.
Mom spent a lot of time showing me pictures of my extended family, telling me who's married, who's divorced, who's working where, who's renovating their house, who's had a baby. How old people are. And it's hard seeing that, and knowing they will only be a small piece of my life, and vice versa. How some of my cousins weren't as lucky as me, because their dads had affairs or their wives didn't want children and they really, really did. How I have one cousin my age who never went to college but is working in data-entry at a customs office, but realizes her lack of education and is now putting herself through school part-time, while she works. It'll take five years.
So when I visit in May, it will be weird, not only because my Mandarin is barely adequate, and not only because I'll be going by myself. Most days I don't think about how lucky I am. That I was able to grow up with awesome parents who paid entirely for education, even back when we were dirt poor and had no heat in winter. That now, I have a job I love, that I live in a city I can afford, that I have amazing, brilliant friends. People tell me I deserve all these wonderful things. I hope I do. But a lot of people deserve these things, too, like my relatives back in China.
I'm sure they have highs and lows just like I do. Life is life. But attached is this feeling of... I'm not sure. Privilege. That I don't feel comfortable with. Even beyond education or a supportive family, I've always had a working toilet growing up. They didn't.
So, I spent my Thanksgiving surrounded by my extended family after all. It's given me a lot more to think about.
Today I was treated to a singular experience. I asked my mom about how she and my dad met, and she told me about how they were born one day apart (which I knew) and were both cared for by my mom's grandmother for the first few months of their lives (which I did not). She told me about how she was working in a cotton mill in Shanghai while my dad was teaching physics in Beijing, and that they wrote letters to each other for years, even after they got married, because they weren't able to live with each other in the same city. And continued to write letters, even after I was born, and that they never had more than two or three months paycheck at a time because most of their income was spent on train tickets, visiting each other. And that immigrating to Canada was the start of my parents' lives too, because it meant that the three of us could all finally live together.
It was hard to listen to that without crying. It's quite romantic. I heard stories about my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, and about how silly or clever I was as an infant. And I've always known how hardworking and loving my parents were, even when we had our disagreements. And since we say stuff like this at Thanksgiving, I'm really thankful for it.
Mom spent a lot of time showing me pictures of my extended family, telling me who's married, who's divorced, who's working where, who's renovating their house, who's had a baby. How old people are. And it's hard seeing that, and knowing they will only be a small piece of my life, and vice versa. How some of my cousins weren't as lucky as me, because their dads had affairs or their wives didn't want children and they really, really did. How I have one cousin my age who never went to college but is working in data-entry at a customs office, but realizes her lack of education and is now putting herself through school part-time, while she works. It'll take five years.
So when I visit in May, it will be weird, not only because my Mandarin is barely adequate, and not only because I'll be going by myself. Most days I don't think about how lucky I am. That I was able to grow up with awesome parents who paid entirely for education, even back when we were dirt poor and had no heat in winter. That now, I have a job I love, that I live in a city I can afford, that I have amazing, brilliant friends. People tell me I deserve all these wonderful things. I hope I do. But a lot of people deserve these things, too, like my relatives back in China.
I'm sure they have highs and lows just like I do. Life is life. But attached is this feeling of... I'm not sure. Privilege. That I don't feel comfortable with. Even beyond education or a supportive family, I've always had a working toilet growing up. They didn't.
So, I spent my Thanksgiving surrounded by my extended family after all. It's given me a lot more to think about.