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by Alex Tsui
The iron bird
continued to soar seamlessly across the cloudless white sky.
It was heading towards Alberta, Canada, where it might finally
rest its wings after the sixteen hours Cross-Pacific flight.
Cuddling myself in one of the blankets provided on board,
I glanced out through the small window into the distant patches
of white snow on the ground. I could sense the bitter coldness
outside, and together with that feeling, my childhood memories
began to materialize in my mind's eye.
The vision was a bit blurred. There standing
on the snow-covered driveway of my house was a small child
around five. His cheeks, red and warm. His arms, sheltered
from the icy winds. He wore a two bright red ear muffins,
a brown overcoat, a pair of jeans and two huge boots that
were obviously too large for his size. His brothers were there
too, piling up a great heap of snow to make a snowman. On
seeing his brother, he made a snowball and threw it at them.
Afterwards, they were engaged in a snowball fight. Then the
image became clear. That small boy was actually me. So warm
back then. So cold right now.
Then an appalling noise woke me, and I reckoned
that my plane had landed. I went through the customs, and
arrived at the main lobby of the airport. Then ¡K¡K
I could see my family standing behind the
rails, waiting impatiently for their son. There were at least
twenty people. They brought with them not only gifts, but
also an excitement that had been dwelling within each one
of their hearts. There came a teenager, with a roll of certificate
in his hands. Everyone cheered as he began to approach the
crowd. They had all been anticipating the arrival of their
relative, who had just graduated from university. They continued
to roar and shout. Just then, the noises stopped. Everything
vanished. Nobody was here.
Where were all the people? Where had they
all gone? The war had already passed for 15 years, but the
memories remained.
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