It’s normal to have these feelings.

Yours,

Li Hua

My parents worked very hard at ensuring that everything seemed pleasant and peaceful for me. I had a very calm childhood and I mostly ignored the fact that my elder sister was different. The child psychologist had term edit as “Asperger Syndrome”(阿斯伯格综合征). This diagnosis turned my parents’ world upside down, but they never let it affect me.

Only at the age often, I started to notice the differences, and became conscious of my social life and self-image that I had carefully cultivated. My sister, on the other hand, was socially awkward. She could not look at people in the eye. She would mumble(咕哝) to herself and repeat the words she had just said under her breath. She, however, was academically capable and hence we attended the same primary school. Despite this, I never, ever acknowledged in public that she was my sister. It was the incident that changed how I viewed my sister. It was the incident that changed me.

Being in primary six, about to graduate, my sister and her fellows had to put up a performance, whether in a group or individually. Due to her inability to integrate, my sister was the only one left without a group. The school had made it compulsory for everyone to put up an item, so my sister had to perform individually.” I’ll sing,” my sister told my parents, somewhat confidently. Hearing that, I was taken a back and completely shocked. How could my sister, who was socially awkward, sing in front of the school? I knew so very well that if I allowed this to happen, she would embarrass me, one way or another. “No!” I protested. My parents shot me a look and then turned to my sister, saying “Good idea!” That was when I knew my sister was going to perform anyway and I was going to be part of the audience watching her.

I sat in the hall, waiting for her performance to start.

Finally, my sister started to sing.

In 2000, when I was around seven years old, my parents, sister, brother, and I were coming back from a picnic. That was our usual weekend adventure, but unlike every other weekend, a surprise was waiting for us in our driveway. There, we saw two adult geese (鹅) and a young goose. The adults were surprised by our return and flew away, but their baby was still too young to fly and couldn’t follow. We are no strangers to the ways of wildlife, so we knew to avoid physical contact with the young goose out of fear that it would stay with us and be lost to its family forever.

Hours passed, and night fell. With it came the coldness. The tiny little thing was walking around our yard and it was clear that the goose needed protection and warmth. At that point, we knew we had to help, аnd wе brоught hіm іntо оur bасk роrсh (门廊).

We all pretty much slept with one eye open till morning came. And then another morning. And still another. Each morning, we would try to shoo (赶走) the goose to his parents, who kept coming back to our yard. He wouldn’t go to them, though, and they wouldn’t come close enough to take him. We kept this up for five days, but no luck. By then, the young goose had clearly decided we were his new family, so we had to give him a name. My sister Joanna called him Peeper, because he would follow us around the yard making a peeping noise, nonstop. We also decided that Peeper was a boy. I don’t know why; it just felt right.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months until almost a year passed. Peeper slept in our back porch each night. My dad would clean all the goose droppings daily. He would throw Peeper up into the air so he could fly a loop (圈) around the house, coming back again once the porch was clean.

My second year in college had started. I hadn’t decided whether to fly home for Thanksgiving yet. Although I had missed the holiday the year before, I didn’t have the money for the ticket, plus I wasn’t sure I could get enough time off from my part-time job.

All that wondering changed when my mom called. She got right to the point: “Your grandmother isn’t doing well. Your dad and I decided you should fly out there for Thanksgiving. We thought you would want to come along so I covered your ticket. We’ll fly from Alabama, and you can fly from Minnesota. We will meet in Northern Califomia the afternoon before Thanksgiving. Your dad and the younger kids will join us shortly later.”

I met her at the Oakland airport, and we took a taxi to our hotel. When we got in the door, Mom called my grandpa, “We would like to come over and enjoy this Thanksgiving together, Dad.” Mom was anxious to see her parents, especially her mother, who was really fragile. When we finally got to their house, we got to say hello and then Grandpa helped Grandma lie down again and led us to the living room, telling us we would eat Thanksgiving dinner at noon. Then he went into the kitchen.

Soon Dad, my brother Peer and my sister Mary arrived, joining us. Mom paced the floor. Finally, I asked her what the matter was. “He can’t cook,” she murmured. “How’s he supposed to fix a Thanksgiving meal for us?” I tried to reason with her. “Can’t you smell the dinner? Grandma is upstairs resting. Grandpa is the only one who could be cooking.” But we couldn’t see through the kitchen door.

She had an idea. “Let’s sneak out of the front door and see what’s going on. Then we will know how Grandpa is really cooking.”

I followed her around the house to the kitchen windows.

Seeing the cut on Grandpa’s finger through the windows, Mom hurriedly pushed open the kitchen door.