(Essay)

Tristan

Yundi Wang

I still love you.



I speak with you in English and fill out the words that I don’t know in Chinese sometimes. One of those words is 斑马线 (Zebra crossing). One time, you stopped and said, it is called Zebra crossing. After a second, you said you feel bad about correcting my English. I didn’t understand why you felt bad about it and also wondered how many times you have silently corrected my English. Is that a humiliating act to you? It is not until you think it is humiliating. I really want my English to be corrected and also don’t want you to humiliate me, however at that time without me properly understanding and getting my head around to articulate the immediate uncomfortable feeling when you think it’s “bad” to correct me, I only said, “don’t feel bad about it.” Later, thinking back, I shout to myself silently, “No I didn’t mean to encourage what you were doing.”


Funny how several days before I thought of you when I was crossing a zebra crossing. It was a zebra crossing where the green light only functioned as a sign for “good citizens” to cross at the empty road without any cars coming. I am that good citizen and I comfortably start to make my way to the other side. Then, I hear the car engines coming. I turned my head, staring at those cars. I know it is my turn to cross but the fear raged it over me. I thought the cars were coming for me. I thought they were going to hit me, they were going to hit me. I let them come closer to me and thought it was my choice. I walk with my head turning to the side, with fear. The cars stopped at the traffic light and I went across to the other side.


Did you cross that road with me?