(Written by a student at a university in Macao)
When I got the news that grandfather was moving from his apartment for veterans and would live farther away from us, I cut short the talk I was having with a friend and started running toward his home. There’s not a great distance between grandpa’s and the building where I live, but on that morning I felt as if I was running a marathon.
Nearing the square in front of his apartment, I could see a huge truck loaded with furniture, and my heart sank. My steps slowed to a walk. Sweat slipped off my hair and dropped into my eyes as I stared at two men carrying a big mattress out of the building. That was grandfather’s mattress! The thought that he’d no longer be near us was overwhelming – actually painful. I could not help but close my eyes for they were already filled with warm tears.
My grandfather’s home had meant so much to me. Exactly how much, I couldn’t say clearly, but it was so often in my mind that it seemed to be part of my body. I’d lived there when I first came into this world. It contained almost all of my childhood memories. It was almost impossible to digest the thought that he'd no longer be there.
The men began to put the mattress on the truck and twice they failed to lift it high enough. I went there to help, and when I touched the surface I recalled pre-school years of playing on it. While I was doing that, grandfather would often say, “Come here. I have a story for you.” Grandmother, that kind lady, would be sitting nearby making a woolen sweater.
The men thanked me, and I said nothing – only gave them a soft smile. I turned my head toward the building, and saw grandpa’s desk being carried in the hands of two other men. It was a handsome, wooden desk on which I’d pasted many colorful cartoon pictures. I could see that they were still there. I’d been the fan of Pocket Pets, a famous cartoon series, and in primary school I’d collected them.
It seemed strange to see the men carrying the desk in the sunlight, and I tried to laugh at myself for dwelling so much on the life I used to have.
Overhead there were white clouds and a blue sky, but as I sat there on the flight of steps leading to the apartment that had meant so much to me and watched the last of the things being loaded, I found that tears were flowing over my face.