二十年後我的一篇日記 (An entry in my diary—twenty years in the future)

In my elementary school years, mom would find all kinds of ways to make me write—diaries, essays and travel logs. I hated these extra “homework.” Mom’s harsh criticisms always made things worse.

After entering middle school, Chinese Composition became one of my favorite classes. Each week we would be given a subject/title at the beginning of the class period. We were to write a short prose essay. Instead of using pens or pencils, we were to write with calligraphic brushes—in tiny characters—on rice paper. There was no chance for errors once the brush touched the paper. So, one must think clearly and write carefully. Our teachers would mark their corrections and comments, mostly constructive and positive, in red ink. For me, the class offered me a chance to express my ideas without shutting to the entire world.

One day, Teacher Lee, our homeroom teacher wrote a strange phrase on the blackboard: 二十年後我的一篇日記 (An Entry in My Diary—Twenty Years in the Future). It might have meant to stimulate some inspirational and hopeful thoughts. I, nonetheless, took a very personal approach in my response:

In my early thirties, alone and far away from my family, I reminisced birthday celebrations in my childhood: Cotton roses bloomed brightly in dad’s garden. The elegant scent of aglaia odorata filled the autumn air. Joyful guests chattered and laughed. Kids ran around the house. The cake, the candles, the happy faces. . .. Wishing there was possibility to return to the past, what I missed most was the closeness to family and friends. . ..

For a long time, I kept these composition books in my drawer at home. However, with the years passing and situations changing, they must have been lost by now. I don’t remember the exact wording in my article. Nevertheless, I remember very well the loneliness that I felt while writing it. Yet, there was no sadness and no regret. My writing might have caught our teachers’ attention but didn’t land me on any lists. Life moved on.

Somehow, even at a young age, I knew that someday I would travel far. Somehow, I knew that I would live a solitary life. Why? I never know.

The monotony and solitude of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind. – Albert Einstein