I’m back home for Chinese New Year’s and I want to know what it was like for my great-grandmother when she was little.
I want to know, I say. I watch her with curiosity. Her lineage covers her like a blanket, masking her face, seeping into her clothes, and reflecting on her role in the family.
Well, there’s not much. What do you want to know, 孩子 (child)? Her voice comes out as an ancient melody, something that cannot be changed.
Anything, I whisper. She thinks for a minute and then speaks softly, like a small breeze.
A man in the military and a girl fell in love. She looked through the shattered window in their cottage everyday, waiting for him. Despite the 缠足 (foot binding) other girls practiced, she believed the man would not fall for it. While the other girls around her flashed their tiny feet in their tiny shoes in hopes of attracting a man, she waited faithfully for him in the straw door. When the man returned, the girl ran to embrace him, but he stepped away, staring at her feet.
Why didn’t you bind your feet?
The girl was taken aback. Do you believe in that? You promised we were going to marry.
I believe in it! He yelled out, avoiding her eyes.
The man packed up his belongings. The girl stood silent, her whole body numb. The girl took out yellow bandages from her drawer and wrapped them tightly around her feet, and water drops began to seep through her bind.
Well, that’s it. Sometimes it’s better to follow along than rebel, right? Why don’t you help your grandma out with making 饺子(dumplings), I’m going to rest for a while, she murmurs.
I pause at the door, looking back at her. She lays on the wheelchair, with her dyed eyebrows, high-rise pants, and painted mole on her left cheek. Under her blanket, her three inch golden lotus feet shine brightly.