Reset

We are entering into Midterm Season here at school, a rush of assignments and exams before Fall Break arrives.  The past 2 weeks (since my last post) have gone by in a blur, filled with ups and downs.  I've had so much fun (and expended so much energy) bantering with friends that the next time we saw each other, we had nothing more to say and could only smile.  I've had enough interactions with one individual to get into conflict--and then to have conflict resolved.  Overall, it's been exhausting.

One Friday, I decided to take a break from schoolwork for an entire day.  I drove up to East Rock, a nearby overlook, and enjoyed a solitary walk in the woods.  The start of Fall was beginning to show, and I soaked up the golden sunlight filtering in through the foliage.  The next day, the weather happened to be warm, and I spontaneously took 2 friends to a local beach and did my run there.

And then, 3 days ago, I suddenly had this crazy urge to drive out of Connecticut to catch the peak foliage in New Hampshire and Vermont.  I worked hard all afternoon and evening on Friday, skipping soccer practice and studying until 11:30 pm.  I pushed myself to finish assignments on a rainy Saturday.  And on Sunday, accompanied by a fellow introvert, I drove 4 hours away to hike Artist's Bluff in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.  We swung 30 minutes west to St. Johnsbury, Vermont to have late lunch at Anthony's Diner and to visit the Maple Museum and Dog Mountain.  And we got back to Connecticut just before 10 pm, ready to face a new week.

I was exhausted but refreshed.  It did me good to get away, and the foliage was beautiful.  Now, I just have to make it through this week and next week before Fall Break, and then I can push "pause" on school for a week and then hit the "reset" button for the next portion of the semester.





Another "reset" in my life has already come--unexpectedly.  I learned last night from my cousin in Taiwan that her dog passed away.  This was the dog I had taken care of as a puppy, the dog that I had considered mine until relatives felt otherwise.  You have a dog of your own already, they said, so when this puppy is weaned, you should give it to your cousin.  My American individualism, beginning to take shape in my 13-year-old mind, clashed with my extended family's Chinese notion of collective identity and family interest, and I felt like I was unfairly being asked to give up something that was rightfully mine.  The three most important men in my life--my dad, who fought for me and refused to relinquish the puppy; my uncle, who had given me my dog when I was 6 and therefore felt it natural that my dog's puppy be given to his daughter; and my grandpa, the patriarchal figure of the family whose words had an unhealthy amount of weight--shouted at each other over the phone and drove me to tears.  Eventually, Uncle and Grandpa got their way--perhaps the fact that they were both born in the Year of the Dog had something to do with it.

It took me years to get over that family drama. I had to forgive the uncle that demanded that I relinquish a puppy I had come to love.  I had to stop resenting my grandfather for taking sides with that uncle and strong-arming my dad into acquiescing with the family's demands.  My cousin, just a child when all of that happened, was the innocent recipient of dog acquired by force--and got to grow up with an animal that had once been mine.

I never knew that my cousin knew about the backstory--until last night.  Whenever I visited Taiwan in the past, I noticed she always made a point giving me a faithful report of the dog, but I thought that was because she knew that I had taken care of it as a puppy and would be curious to know.  I hope it comforts her now to know I have let bygones be bygones and am glad that the puppy that I raised became her best friend.

I cried last night when I thought of how heartbroken she must be right now.  For 15 years, a four-footed companion was at her side, and now that companion lives only in memory.  I know it will take a while to mourn this loss, and I also know that grief will come back in moments least expected, even after it's been years since a pet's death.  The "reset" button has been pressed, and out of sorrow has emerged a new understanding between me and my cousin.



[I'm not super satisfied with the way this post turned out.  For the first time, I feel that it could have been written better in Chinese…]