Perspective

Yesterday started off being one of my worst days in China, but ended as one of my best because of one person's act of kindness. I have always been a firm believer that one person can make a difference and that the smallest action can restore faith.

As of yesterday, I officially have 2 weeks left in China. It only occurred to me a few days ago when I looked at the calendar and realized I was actually leaving. Up until then, it had been a distant phrase I repeated to others at social gatherings, "I'm moving back to America." I might as well have been saying, "I'm moving to the moon."

Letting go of a place that has become your home and people that have become your family is no easy feat. There is no doubt in my mind that I will come back to China at some point, but at this time, I have no way of knowing in what capacity or when. I could be back in 4 months. I could be back in 10 years. For now, I know that returning to America is the right step for me, just as I originally knew coming to China was right for me.

Having moved on from many places before, I have noticed certain commonalities. It's easier to let something or someone go if one feels removed from it, and everyone has a different way of coping with someones departure. I was confused by this phenomenon at first. I noticed that my closest friends and I would begin to fight as the time drew nearer to leave, or I would notice that someone I would spend a lot of time with would suddenly disappear from the face of the earth without reason. Then there are the friends that want to spend every possible minute together, enjoying and appreciating those last moments.

I vacillate mostly between the first and the third. I tend to think about what and who is really important to me and choose to spend my time accordingly. It was only in the past 24 hours that I realized the biggest relationship I'm leaving is with China, which brings me back to my story.

Lately, I've been mentally cataloging all that I will miss and won't miss about living here. The list of people, places, and things I will miss is infinitely longer than the few things I won't, but since I looked at that calendar the other day, I have found myself focusing on how much it annoys me when someone shouts "lao wai" (foreigner) at me when all I want to do is blend in and go about my day. Or when I hear someone hawk a particularly large loogie as I walk past. "I won't hear that in America," I say to myself.

So, last night when my friend accidentally left my bag in a taxi cab containing my wallet, 500 RMB, credit cards, cell phone, clothing, etc. I used this as a sign confirming my decision to leave. I thought there was no way to get my bag back and began to calculate the money and time it would cost to replace my driver's license, my Chinese credit card, etc. Luckily, a girl with us had the idea to try calling my cell phone on the off chance that the taxi cab driver would hear it, not want to steal the bag, and potentially return it to me.

After having my beloved Hong Long (bike) stolen last month, I had become a bit jaded towards the idea that someone would return the bag, but I had to try. There were just too many valuable items in it. I began to call, and it continued to ring. At first I took this as a good sign. A ring means that the person hasn't turned off the phone. I know this from having my phone stolen in December. If someone wants to steal the phone, it often rings once but the person immediately turns it off. After 20 rings and no answer, I began to lose hope. I figured that he had probably put the bag in the trunk and would decide what to do with it after his shift. All I could do was pray that the driver was a good man and would do the right thing.

My friend and I decided to grab some street food near my house and continued to call about every thirty minutes. At around 2:00 am, a voice answered the phone. I was so surprised to actually hear an answer that I forgot how to speak Chinese for a second. It quickly came back to me, and the man confirmed that he had my bag and said that he would come to find me and return it to me. When he arrived, I thanked him profusely. He asked me to check the bag to make sure all the contents were intact, which they were. He also refused to take a reward.

These past couple of days I had been focusing on the cons, trying to alleviate the sadness I feel about leaving, but in the process I was missing all the beauty around me. This man reminded me of all the other wonderful experiences I have had in China---of all the people who have been so good to me. People who have helped me when they didn't need to. People who have invited me into their homes and treated me like family.

I don't know what went through that man's head. I don't know if he considered taking the bag or searching its contents or not. When I searched the bag, it was exactly as I had left it. He probably was unconcious as to how much his act of kindness touched me, or how small actions like these are what build ties between people and cultures. I am deeply grateful to this man, not only because of what he did, but also because he reminded me that in saying goodbye to my biggest relationship here, that with China, I want to honor it. I don't want to look back and realize that I spent my last days focusing on my grief in leaving. I would rather savor the moments, honoring all that I have learned here, all that China has given me, and all the joy of my last 3 years.