Middle School

Today was special for two reasons. One, Jenny finally graduated from sitting in the back of the car to sitting in the front. Second and more importantly, Jenny had just started sixth grade, which meant she finally had her own smartphone. Instead of napping on the way to Chinatown like she usually did, Jenny passed the time Snapchatting vomiting rainbow selfies to her friends.

“You’re going to kill your eyes if you keep looking at your phone,” her mother warned. Jenny ignored her.

Chinatown, of course, was the same: people shouted at each other from across East Broadway and the crisp fall air mixed with the smell of fish and cigarettes. When Jenny and her mother arrived at Po Po’s apartment, they were greeted in Po Po’s typical fashion: indoor slippers laid out, wontons on the dining table, and the usual “Mei Mei zhǎng gāo le!” for Jenny, with Jenny mumbling a cursory greeting in return. Po Po’s remark, at least, was becoming more relevant. Jenny was growing out of new clothes within weeks.

After lunch, Jenny’s mother left to do some shopping, and Po Po went to wash the dishes. Jenny sat by the dining table glued to her phone. After twenty minutes, she heard Po Po’s footsteps approaching and the creaking of the cabinet opening. “Calligraphy time!” Po Po said, taking out the brushes, ink bottle, and inkstone.

Jenny couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation. Po Po made her write calligraphy during almost every visit. Did today have to be one of those days? All Jenny wanted to do was send and receive barfing rainbow selfies, and although she could understand and speak basic Mandarin now, she didn’t know how to politely say leave me alone. Instead, she reluctantly helped Po Po unfurl a blank sheet of rice paper and pour ink into the inkstone.

Now that Jenny was older, she’d long since graduated from writing simple four stroke characters on gridded paper. These days, Po Po showed Jenny proverbs that she wanted Jenny to copy. The act of writing them was fairly simple: holding the brush properly was second nature now, and she knew exactly how much ink was required to glide her brush smoothly over the paper. What the proverbs actually meant, however, was completely lost on her. Today Jenny didn’t even try to listen to Po Po’s long-winded explanations. Her sole focus was speculating how many of her friends had Snapchatted her back. How many streaks would still be alive by tomorrow? If only she could just–

“Mei Mei.”

Jenny snapped back to reality. “Yes?”

“Which proverb do you like best? ‘Xiǎo mǎn shèng wàn quán’ (小滿勝萬全) or ‘luò yè guī gēn’ (落葉歸根)?”

“Oh, um.” Quickly, Jenny skimmed what she had been writing. She didn’t even know how to read half the characters, but she pointed uncertainly to the latter because the characters looked cooler. “This one.”

Po Po nodded thoughtfully. “Good choice. I think both are very poetic, but ‘luò yè guī gēn’ resonates more with me.” She smiled at Jenny.

Then Po Po went to straighten the stack of newspapers on the coffee table and tend the plants that crowded the windowsill. Jenny breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment she’d been terrified that Po Po would make her explain her decision. And if that had been the case, she would’ve rather explained in English. Why did Po Po barely know any, when she had been living in America for longer than Jenny had been alive?

An hour later, Jenny’s mother returned to the apartment, arms full of shopping bags. As usual, the end of the visits involved cash envelopes and a heated discussion between herself and Po Po. It struck Jenny as strange that the conversation was always about the same topic, and always in Cantonese. Her Cantonese comprehension made her lackluster Mandarin skills seem stellar, but the exchange happened often enough that she could glean bits and pieces.

“Come live in New Jersey with Jenny and me,” her mother said. “It’ll be better for your health.”

“No, I’m fine!” Po Po laughed and waved her hand dismissively. “I’m still very independent. I like living in New York.”

While the two women were preoccupied, Jenny searched for the best angle to snap a picture of her calligraphy. She was certain her handiwork would be a hit either as a Snapchat story or an Instagram post. Before posting, she ran the proverbs through Google Translate so her followers could at least understand their meaning. The first one meant “A little success in life is better than being fully prepared.” The second was more cryptic: “Fallen leaves return to their roots.”