College: Freshman Year

Jenny hadn’t seen Po Po since she’d left for her first year at UC Berkeley. When she flew back to the East Coast for summer break, she paid her grandmother a visit – this time, on her own.

Jenny’s mother visited Po Po much more frequently now, and gave Jenny a list of precautions: “Po Po’s changed a lot since you last saw her. She will probably have a hard time recognizing you at first. You might need to repeat sentences a couple of times. And remember, I just hired a full-time caregiver a couple weeks ago, make sure to thank her when you arrive and when you leave.” Po Po had officially won the argument to live in her East Broadway apartment after years of debate. Jenny’s mother had accommodated by spending weeks searching for someone full-time to tend to all of Po Po’s needs.

Still, Jenny chose not to believe that Po Po’s health was in steep decline. At Berkeley, Jenny had found herself to be a part of the largest Asian community she’d ever known. Her first year of college inspired her to come armed with questions for Po Po that were long overdue: What was growing up in China like? Why move to New York? How did the passion for calligraphy start? At the very least, Jenny knew the one sentence answers, but now she yearned for responses that required hours, explanations that filled entire pages. How much could a person change between August and December, anyway?

***

When Jenny rang Po Po’s doorbell, it wasn’t Po Po who answered the door, but a stout, middle-aged woman wearing an apron. Jenny blinked several times in confusion before remembering what her mother had said about hiring a caregiver.

Jenny cleared her throat. “Miss Leung, hello! I’m Jenny. I’m here to visit my grandmother.” Thanks to practicing with new friends and taking a graduate level language course both semesters, her Mandarin had become the most fluent it had ever been. She smiled at Miss Leung and a little to herself, proud of how natural the language felt on her tongue.

“Ah yes, so good to meet you, Jenny!” Miss Leung said. “Come in. Lunch is almost ready.”

Thanks to Miss Leung, the apartment was in pristine condition. The plants on the windowsill flourished, and all the newspapers sat in a single neat stack on the coffee table. As Jenny took in the apartment, Miss Leung laid out slippers by her feet. It felt so foreign seeing a stranger performing an action that Po Po had always done for her. 

Jenny spotted Po Po sitting at the dining table, hands gripped tightly to her chair. Her eyes roamed vacantly around the room, as if searching for something beyond the walls of the apartment. Finally they landed on Jenny.

Jenny could almost see the gears in Po Po’s head slowly turning as she registered who was standing before her. A second passed, then ten, and finally the corners of Po Po’s mouth tilted upward to a childlike grin.

“Mei Mei zhǎng gāo le!” she said. Her words were slurred.

Jenny flinched slightly at Po Po’s garbled voice, but maybe a bit of warming up would help clear Po Po’s mind and allow Jenny to ask her questions. As Miss Leung brought out two bowls of wonton soup, Jenny attempted to ease into a conversation. 

“Po Po, the last time I saw you was before I left for college. That was three months ago! It’s been so long!”

“College?” Po Po murmured. “You’re not in college. You are still in high school!” She blinked a few times. “When are you going to graduate high school?” she asked. “When are you going to college?” 

Jenny heard Miss Leung’s footsteps retreating into the kitchen, and she was grateful for the privacy. Jenny took a deep breath. “I’m in college now, in California!” she said slowly, as if talking to a child. “I’m studying economics. I’m also learning a lot more Chinese!”

Po Po’s eyes, though fixed on Jenny, were becoming unfocused again. Jenny realized she had to hurry. “I actually have some questions I should’ve asked you a long time ago,” she added quickly. “What was growing up in China like? Why did you move to America?”

Po Po knit her brows together uncomprehendingly. Jenny knew with a sinking feeling that she had lost Po Po somewhere between “studying economics and learning Chinese.” 

“Impossible! I know you’re in high school. I just saw you last week!” Po Po said. “When will you finish high school?” she asked again. “Where are you going to college?” 

Jenny swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. “No, Po Po! I just told you,” she said as gently as she could, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I graduated from high school. I’m in college now!” 

Suddenly, Po Po’s eyes brightened. For a fraction of a second, Jenny felt a hopeful thrill in her chest. This was it! She leaned in closer, anticipating Po Po’s reply.

But the thrill dissipated when all Po Po said was, “Mei Mei zhǎng gāo le!” 

Jenny’s questions floated uselessly in the air. She didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh, cry, or scream. Everything felt so wrong – Po Po being a shell of herself, the presence of a stranger, the wontons not tasting right, her mother not being here. Jenny had to believe that Po Po was fighting the cobwebs that ensnared her brain, desperately trying to understand what Jenny was saying. But it was clear to her now that the battle had been lost, long before Jenny had arrived fifteen minutes ago. 

Jenny had no choice but to play along. She took a deep breath.“Yes, Po Po,” she said, smiling at her grandmother even as her heart sank. “I have grown very tall!”

Po Po mumbled something in agreement. As Jenny turned to blink away tears, the glass cabinet caught her attention – the one that housed all of Po Po’s calligraphy supplies. Recalling an article she’d read a while ago about dementia patients retaining artistic skills, she got up and carefully opened the cabinet doors. Gently, she ran her thumb along the tips of the calligraphy brushes. They were stiff from lack of use. She picked up the ink bottle and gave it a small shake. It was empty.

Before Jenny left, she made sure to thank Miss Leung. She also asked her for one favor.

“Can you make sure Po Po writes calligraphy sometimes?”