Coming Home
Natalie Leong, Group 2: Fiction, The International School of Macao
s the warm rays of the sun shone upon me, I climbed on the hard cobblestones of the Great Wall of
China, my feet thumping rhythmically against the uneven ground. I was fascinated by the grand
structure, wondering how it was built hundreds of years ago. Suddenly, I came upon a slouching old
woman who had fallen onto the bumpy ground. Quickly, I ran over to help her to her feet, letting her
breathe in the cool fresh air.
Finally, when she was feeling more comfortable, I started walking with her. She began to speak to me in a
soft voice. The old woman was telling me how the Great Wall was before and as she carried on, I realized that
she was reminiscing a story; the story of her own life.
A
It was 1950, when the Civil War in China had just ended. The old woman and her husband, like many
others, were having a hard time earning a living. “Life was difficult then, so my husband decided to leave China.
He thought that it was what he needed to do, leave everything behind even though he did not know the path
ahead of him,” the woman uttered sadly.
“
He left his family behind?” I asked bewildered.
The old woman replied that at that time that seemed to be the only way for a better living. She was staring
at the rugged ground as she continued, “We used to bring all kinds of vegetables from the fields and sell them
here. It was something that we looked forward to doing together. But things just changed during the war.”
Their family lived in a village at the foot of the Great Wall. The old woman and her husband used to enjoy
looking at the amazing sight of the great structure. “We always felt like we were looking at a magnificent
dragon meandering its way through the valley into the horizon.,” she said. There, all their worries would seem to
disappear, with only the breathtaking Great Wall of China in their sight.
“
For many years, my husband and I kept in contact, but one summer, I remember, there was no sign from
him,” the woman said in her gentle voice, touching the walls with her fragile fingers.
She paused, staring into the vast mountains, her eyes squinting to see far beyond the valley as the breeze
brushed against her gray hair, making the creases on her tiny face more visible.
“
So what happened to your husband?” I asked curiously.
She thought that the postal service might have been delayed, but she gradually became more and more
anxious as the years passed and she received no reply from him.
“
I will hear from him soon, I kept telling myself.” continued the old woman as if she was still hoping for a
letter to arrive.
“
It must have been unbearable. Did you try to find him?” I asked eagerly, thinking to myself how
intolerable it would be for me not to be able to get in touch with my family.
She was quiet as we continued walking. For a moment, I thought I must have asked the wrong question.
To my relief, as we reached another barrack, she continued, “I tried to, but had no means of reaching him. I was
filled with grief and despair. I thought I would never be able to come here again because the thought of him was
too hard for me to endure.”
As years went by, the only thing she could do to carry on was to believe that one day her husband would
come home. Then she decided to return to the Great Wall. “I was very afraid that I would lose those memories,
the only thing that was left of us.” Once again she climbed the winding path and remembered her husband’s
familiar face. It was as if he was there at that very moment, embracing her and talking to her in his kind voice.
“
Those were the only comforting moments ever since I had lost contact with him,” the old woman said
quietly as she recalled what had happened.
Then, as she continued to share her story, her eyes seemed to glow and smile under the bright sun. “Then,
one hot summer, as I was looking through some of his old letters, there was a knock on the door.”
She went to open the door and found an aged and tired face standing in front of her. She was stunned. It
was a face that she had not seen for many years!
“
Why didn’t he send you any letters?” I interrupted anxiously and still puzzled.
“
At that time, especially in China, the postal service was strict and difficult. Somehow the letters that he
sent home never arrived.” explained the old woman. “He attempted many times to come home, but it was not
easy.”
After coming home, they spent many precious moments together. The old woman stood there quietly, and
then said, “My husband came home and spent his final days with his family. That was the most important thing
to him.” He passed away happy, spending his last moments with the old woman but leaving her all on her own,
once again.