|
Home, people say, "Home is where the heart is." If anyone had asked me where my home was a few years ago, I would have immediately answered, "America." But having lived in Taiwan for nine years, I have gradually come to recognize my other home-- Taiwan. Two hometowns, two halves of my heart! Where does my heart lie? In which home do I belong?
The school bell tolls in a merry tune. Wearily, I glance at my jaded classmates, who, like me, have nearly had to tape their eyelids to their eyebrows to stay awake during class. Silently, I lift my backpack up to my shoulders, hoist up the chair, and trudge out, barely noticing the others. My best friend walks up to me, and seeing the tired expression on my face, knows not to say a word. As we walk along the hallways, I look back. Somehow, in the dim light, the hallway seems…a bit…different. Thinking it is just a trick of the shadows, I let it go. We walk quietly across the school grounds. No words are said. No words are needed. We sink into our own pools of thought. Fallen leaves of sickly trees collect at my feet as I plunge into the millions of questions in my mind. Am I an American? Am I a Chinese? Everything around me seems hazy and insignificant. I have been lost in this fog for too long--for months as. I have been crying to get out, to find my path, to find my way back home. I search through my innermost thoughts. American? I supposed so--I was born in America. Chinese? Most likely; I sure look like one. America and Taiwan, two completely different countries, two completely different cultures. Where do I belong? I close my eyes. Today, everything seems to have changed. Today, everything seems new. Even the pollution and the honking of cars don't bother me anymore. I hear the happy chirpings of a bird, barely audible in the mists of the trees. I feel the welcoming breeze caressing my tired features, and for a moment, my soul seems to leap free of my body, soaring to the skies. Up high, I see people beneath me, all featuring the same black hair, the same tired, yet content expressions on their faces. I think of America, but somehow…somehow I can not picture it anymore. Somehow, all I see are the blurry outlines of what was once 38 Azalea Drive…Confused, I try to grasp the memories that are even at this moment slipping away from me into the abyss. In my heart, I cry out, and suddenly everything is dark. I am falling…falling…falling…
Abruptly, my eyes open. A flush of color floods into me. Glancing around, I realize that I am standing at a curb. To my left, my friend gazes at me with understanding. We stand there, knowing there is a choice to be made. I look down the two paths, and I wonder how I had failed to realize it before. Straight ahead, the light flashes green. Finally. It is the light through the haze I have been searching for. My friend taps me on the shoulder and takes my hand. Instinctively, I raise my free hand to my chest. It may seem to others merely a play of the senses, but I see in my mind the trench in my heart--it…is gone. Though the scar still has to mend, I have found myself. One heart, one home! Taking a deep breath, we take the first step. Not a single word of comfort, and yet, we both know the path to take, we both know where we belong. I look around. This little green island, this blossoming Formosa, is where I belong. Finally, I am on my way home.
|
