Chapter 2: Time go by like the Wind

As my life started to change, and time begins to flow, day by day, week by week. I woke up one morning and my mom had already went back to Taiwan to tie up the loose ends there. That was the final segment and chance of us every going back. I submitted my registrations for the local school. That was the end of my Taiwanese education.

In the spring of 2011, I've called back many times to my family and friends back home. One time I've called my friends in hope to chat, but they informed me that an international phone call would be expensive. That was when I realize that I don't have any way to keep in contact with my friends anymore. That was the end of my friendship back home. Then I started to think about the life before moving to America. The time I spent with my grandmother, the story-teller.

It was my first day of summer back in 2008, where I would be spending my whole day with my grandmother and aunt. I walked into the tiny apartment and noticed the slightly yellowing picture of my deceased grandfather. There is a set of old hardwood table along with couches that are made completely of wood.

Only my grandmother was sitting there, fanning herself.

"Felix?" My grandmother said, looking up at me.

I looked at her and waved.

I've seen her multiple time throughout the years and I've no recollection of actually spending my time alone with her. When I looked at her again, she was smiling. Hello, I say. How are you doing.

"Good, and how are you," Grandmother says, as if I was a outsider.

"And Felix?"

Yes?

"Do you wish entertain an old lady by listening to her stories?"

My grandmother became the story-teller to me that day. Never did I expected her life to be so interesting. Studying under the tillage of the Japanese, and experienced the revolution first hand. Those were the stories that my grandmother had experienced. Stories that I've learned from, stories that had shaped the person that I am today.

The fall of November 2017, I've called my grandmother like normal-asked her how she was, how is her health-and something else: A set of questions for an extra credit.

I want to remember the stories, I told my grandmother. I want to keep remembering these stories when I feel sad next time. To be honest I only wrote down these memories simply because I needed this grade. Then the stories begin to unfold before me, and these stories reminded me of the time when I was 8. When things weren't tiring, when I thought everyone in the world was a good person. Instead of a chore the stories begins to drag me in deeper and deeper.