DIFFERENT FORMS OF LOVE
by Lisa Zheng

I. Ba Ba (Dad)

Shan… shui… dong nan xi bei.
Flashcards with Chinese characters, my father’s voice would sway
If his love for me were infinite, why did he leave 
For a startup dream in another city when I was only three?

Pale yellow maple leaves at the park with my friend
Her father slings her on top of his shoulders,
Could you pick me up too? I would murmur

My father only returned once a month.
But once, I blazed into a high fever,
he booked a train ticket straight home
stayed throughout the night at the hospital
trying to book an appointment, not leaving me alone.

2015. America. With mom. Just the two of us. I was seven.
Me and my dad. 13 hour difference. 
Jam-packed schedule. Barely FaceTime.
Enthusiastic chatter recedes into perfunctory goodbyes
I start to forget his voice.

2017. Waiting for my mom to get back from the airport with baba.
He entered through the backdoor. I peeked meekly around the corner.
Into my palm he presses a box of shortbread cookies in the shape
of baby chicks. Powder blue and pastel yellow.
And a cozy pink pom-pom beanie I still wear to this day.
He won me over. Earned a hug.
I retreated upstairs, satisfied, munching on faux feathers.

A stranger had arrived.
He was the man who bought me gifts overseas.

Another Yogurt Time, another bubble tea
Slide dollar bills underneath my door
Doesn’t make up for lost time, when you went adrift
Years passed, he taught me math and physics. 
High fives built our fragile alliance
But my silence doesn’t speak to him. (pause)
If I don’t make any noise, he assumes I’m happy.

Now, leaving for his trip, he hands me forty dollars.
​Buy yourself some snacks while I’m gone.
His way of apology.
Not a word of what happened yesterday.

Eight years later, this scene I interpret differently.
I see a man trying to reconnect in the only way he knew how to.

II. Mom

Visas, a foreign language, work.
Two Chinese women in a new country.
My mom has two brains
one for survival, one for me.
She is Barbie Shi. 100 different roles.
Mother. Taxpayer, Chauffeur, Chef, Teacher. (pause) Father
Her hardworking nature propelled her to ask the same for me.
(shout) Why do I have to play piano while watching others play?
She talks like a cannon, firing shots.
Paint the girl more realistic! Try creating more space! Too detailed! Erase that purple dot!
​Can you just make her shirt sleeve look more cylindric? How many times do I have to tell you? Can you swear there will be no fixes? Just this one more thing…

Maybe she does this because she believes she’s the only one
who can point out my mistakes before I face the world.
Maybe she doesn’t realize I can learn from my missteps,
that falling and rising is part of the process.
But she is very wise
Having fun isn’t wasting time.
Be productive, have more time to play
Be the best version of yourself
It’s never too late to change
Hiding in the bathroom, fear takes its hold,
Scared of looking foolish, scared of breaking the mold.
She whispers, “Would you still speak to the unwise?”
“Of course,” I reply, with truth in my eyes.
“There,” she says, “Don’t be afraid to be the dumbest in the room.”
So here I am. I wouldn’t be who I am today without her.

III. Lao lao (grandmother)

After I was born, my grandmother left behind
A rural province for Beijing’s skyline
40 years of cultivated farmland
my grandfather, her friends
Cannibal hens pecking their own eggs,
Tomato and parsley, cabbage and broccoli

1000 miles / just to take care / of me. (pause)
So much she had to sacrifice.
Rain or shine, always on time
She’d be there beaming when the schoolbell chimed
Hot butter cakes of sesame from China’s rugged streets.
Snuck me sweets secretly when my mother disagreed
She saw all my first crawls, first walks, first words before 
My parents who were / always at work.
Until my mom and I left for the new land
The seven years since my birth was held in my grandmother’s hands

IV.  
​Ba Ba's distant, gift-laden attempts at connection,
my mother's demanding, disciplined affection,
and lao lao's quiet, unconditional protection.
Love’s many languages,
and I am still learning to translate them.

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