Thirty Feet and Waves

My daughter was off to Hong Kong for the Labor Day vacation.  She would get some visa matters done and see her old friend who still lives there in the Bagio Villa where we once resided back in 2005, back when my daughters were small enough to carry in my arms. 

Having learned the hard way when I last left for the airport, I told her we’d need to budget plenty of time. The Beijing Auto Show locust are still there at the convention center, acting like an advanced coagulant on all neighborhood traffic, so that nothing works and everything is slow.  This time, instead of heading down, out of our way to the express way, I take the drivers advice and go left, from Gao Bai Lu back on to Jing Mi.  This is a turn, straight into the hardening concrete and I am rather suspicious that this may prove a disaster, and indeed it would have been were we have been planning on turning left.  But as it was, the right lane make progress and soon, we’d made the light and surmounted the pivotal turn left on Tian Bei Lu. 

Now the fish tank was aerated and soon we were speeding along across the familiar path till I was telling the river to drop us off at the number six entrance.  Inside I took my daughter over to the gold partner check in and only later when the lady asked if my daughter was platinum or gold and I told her silver that she pointed out that was in fact wanting for any sort of metallurgical distinction. Oh, right.  It’s her.  Admonition transmitted to me, she finished the check in without a blink and we made our way over to the bank.

I couldn’t resist the urge to remind my daughter that it would all be rather different when she was traveling on her own.  She acknowledged this and I think we both felt we’d tapped this theme’s utility for just now.  On to the ATM, then.  “Here, don’t use all of this.  It’s for emergencies.”  I know she’ll be conservative with it.   Much more so than I ever would have been at the same age. “Oh, we forgot to get the yellow departure card.  Shall we go back to the check in lady?”  “I can just get one out at immigration.”  “You sure you’re OK with that?  We could go back over?”  “Nah, I’m good.”  “Do you have a pen?”  “Let me check.  Yep.  This should work.”  “OK.  Well.  Shoot me a note when you get through immigration, OK?”  “Sure.”  “OK.  I love you.  I’ll miss you.” “I’ll miss you too.”  “Be a good guest.”  “OK”.  We wave.  She walks thirty feet and waves.  Another few seconds and she waves again.  And again.  And then the escalator carriers her downward.  And it occurs to me that she never used to be that way when I dropped her off at middle school.

Monday 4/30/18