Tianni on Love: Our Lives in Boxes

So the day finally came.

From a vague notion of a possible return home in the near future, it had turned into a distant date that was still many months away, and then, as the days flew by in a whirl of living, the day I awaited with a mix of anticipation and trepidation became just a week away, then a mere matter of days, and finally just a day away.


The send-off for Kaela's beloved ayi

In the weeks leading up to it, I thought what I was feeling -- the slowly growing grief for the passing of an old way of life, the excitement and apprehension at a new unknown chapter -- must be rather similar to if the Grim Reaper had given me a calling card with the exact date of my demise from earth. The walk along my daily route to and from work in Beijing, a path I could possibly have navigated blindfolded by now, took on an almost religious veneer, becoming a last rite of sorts for my eventual departure. I would will each of my senses to take in as much as possible of the noisy clogged streets that I had many times sworn at, but which I now gazed upon with a somewhat tender feeling, and try to commit every detail -- the texture of the gravel path under my feet, the dark branches of the leafless gingko biloba trees overhead, the magpies on them, the crisp cold air cutting into my skin which I relished with such masochistic glee -- into my eternal memory bank. I would walk around my apartment of 2 plus years trying to memorize the feel of the place, the furniture, and recall the lives, laughter and tears lived within the walls. Even if I could visit the city again, I knew I would never be able to recapture in the same way, this significant slice of our lives lived here.

Perhaps it was in this way I grew more ready to say good-bye to my adopted city which, like most people we've grown to love in the deepest most permanent way, had become such an inextricable part of me despite all its imperfections and flaws. In a way, I'm glad I left before Beijing's crazy traffic, incessant spitting and cutting of queues (to name just a few) ate up all the fondness I felt for the city and its people, and it still retained the romantic glow of a memorable love affair.

Till we meet again, 北京！ 后会有期！


The sun sets over the familiar skyline from our apartment window on the last day



Our dining room the night before the movers came in, and after


The movers sweep through our apartment, packing our lives into boxes (and the little one makes sure she gets her face into every pix)


Still chirpy now, but I'm sure little K will soon be clamoring to go back to Beijing


The movers take a lunch break and we tuck into our last Annie's takeout pizza


The final count: Our lives in #62 boxes