Epilogue

Jenny’s Friday was off to a great start. For one, she’d ended work early. For another, autumn in New York had begun in earnest: the air had finally cooled to a pleasant temperature and the trees lining the streets were turning golden and red. For the first time since moving into the city, Jenny decided to walk the mile up from Wall Street to East Broadway instead of taking the subway. But first, she stopped by Oriental Culture Enterprises on Elizabeth Street to pick up some supplies. The ink bottle at Po Po’s was nearly empty, and Jenny figured she’d be needing more rice paper.

Miss Leung answered the apartment door with a surprised smile on her face. “Jenny!” she said. “You’re early this week!”

“I am!” Jenny said, grinning. She held up a shopping bag containing the paper and ink. “I bought the supplies. I’ll put them in the cabinet.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to!” Miss Leung said. “I was going to go while you ate dinner. Which, by the way, is almost ready. Here, let me put the supplies in your grandmother’s room.” She took the bag from Jenny’s hands and disappeared into the hallway.

As Jenny waited for dinner, she watered the plants on the windowsill and rearranged the newspapers on the coffee table. Shortly after, Miss Leung emerged from the kitchen with two bowls of wonton soup, and the two of them sat down to eat. Miss Leung had adjusted the wonton recipe with a few polite pointers from Jenny: a greater pork to cabbage ratio, more sesame oil, less ginger. The way Po Po used to make them.

“Was work better this week?” Miss Leung asked, dipping her wonton in vinegar.

“Much better! And the weather has cooled down too, so I can start volunteering at Central Park with my friend again.” She and Miss Leung exchanged knowing smiles. “But that’ll start next week. I’m going back to New Jersey tomorrow to visit my mom.”

Most weekends, Jenny saw her mom up in Chinatown. But once a month, Jenny braved the dreadfully slow NJ Transit back to the suburbs to visit her mother and to breathe fresh, non-polluted air. Sometimes, over dinner, Jenny asked her mother to share as many stories as she could about herself and Po Po when they lived in China. Other times, they’d dust off old family albums, and Jenny’s mother would recall to the best of her ability who the relatives in the pictures were, and where they were now. Jenny had a whole family dispersed across the globe whom she had yet to meet.

After dinner, Miss Leung went to the bedroom to check on Po Po, then emerged a few minutes later. “Your grandmother’s awake,” she said.

Jenny stepped inside. Po Po lay nestled under a mountain of blankets. Her hair, now white, bloomed from her head like tufts of cotton. A table had been installed across her bed that hovered over her torso. On it lay the paper and ink that Jenny had just bought, along with the age old inkstone and brushes.

Po Po squinted at Jenny. “Who are you?” she asked. 

“It’s me, Mei Mei,” Jenny said. “We have some new calligraphy supplies today!” She gestured to the items that Miss Leung had placed on Po Po’s overbed table.

Jenny sat beside Po Po and got to work, as she’d done every week for the past three months. She opened the package of paper and spread it into an even sheet on the overbed table. She shook the new ink bottle, poured a small amount of the liquid into the inkstone, then swished the brush around in it. 

When Jenny started this routine with Po Po, she’d begun with simple four stroke characters. It soon became clear that Po Po had retained the majority of her calligraphy abilities, so Jenny had started pulling from the list of proverbs that they’d written together all those years ago. Today they began with ‘luò yè guī gēn’ (落葉歸根).

Jenny always watched in awe as Po Po’s calligraphy instincts took over. Her eyes came into focus. She held her brush at a perfect ninety degrees above the table, and she applied just the right amount of pressure to the paper to keep the ink gliding smoothly. Po Po had just completed the first two characters before the brush began wobbling in her grip. Quickly, Jenny clasped her hand over Po Po’s papery one to help her finish the proverb. 

The result of their handiwork was four characters, big and bold. Jenny knew well that they literally described falling leaves returning to the roots of their tree. But now, revisiting the proverb a decade later, she finally understood that the phrase was truly about homecoming, of the desire to return to where one was raised after a long, long time.

Jenny took a deep breath. “Po Po, you are a world class calligrapher,” she said. “I am grateful that you shared your talent with me.” 

These days, Jenny never expected Po Po to comprehend what she was saying. But she had already spent her whole life shrugging off entire conversations with Po Po, and wasted far too much time keeping words she should have said lodged in her throat. She’d been wanting to thank her grandmother for a while. The least she could do was thank her now.

Jenny then set the paper aside to dry, and reached for a clean sheet. 

“Mei Mei.”

Jenny turned around. Something about Po Po’s eyes had changed. They had a glimmer to them that Jenny had not seen in years. Po Po scanned Jenny up and down, as if seeing her granddaughter for the first time in a long while.

“Mei Mei zhǎng dà le,” Po Po whispered, bringing a trembling hand to Jenny’s face and cupping her cheek.

Jenny drew in a sharp breath. Her heart felt like it was squeezing and expanding all at once. Had Po Po had meant to say what she’d said? Had Jenny misheard? She could’ve easily believed Po Po had said her signature phrase –  Mei Mei zhǎng gāo le –  but swapping just one word –  gāo for dà – changed everything. Po Po hadn’t told Jenny she’d grown so tall.

Jenny, she’d said. You’re all grown up.  

***

Acknowledgements

I have two very important people to thank – Carolyne Geng and Ji Yoon Sim. I am so, so grateful for your collaboration and friendship.

Carey, your thoughtful editing is the reason why Jenny feels so real and the story flows the way it does. Thank you also for your Bay Area expertise and entertaining commentary on the Google Docs sidebar – that really kept me going when my writer’s block was at its worst.

And who else would I have asked to create such beautiful cover art besides you, Ji Yoon? I am so in awe of your talent to translate what was then a two-sentence story pitch into a visual masterpiece. Jenny and Po Po have come alive because of you.