Her
Sara Cook
Her feet scurry up and down the concrete stairs of the orphanage in too-large pink plastic sandals.
Black braided hair bounces as she joyfully leads her new friend around her home.
Her friend speaks very little, eyeing her with curiosity and trepidation.
How much of their shared tongue does she know?
I watch her eat at the banquet table.
Feasting, knowing there will be less food tomorrow.
I watch her devour crab leg after crab leg, juice spraying, each leg sucked clean.
I remember feeling that hunger.
A hunger that existed long before my mouth could form the words to describe it.
Eating to make up for the meals missed and the lack of meals in the future.
She observes her differently than the others.
She hasn’t heard her speak apart from xie xie and ni hao.
She is younger than her, by a few years.
They have the same eyes, black hair, and yellow skin, turned brown in the hot summer days.
Though I am ‘coming home’ I do not feel that I belong here.
I cannot and will never speak Mandarin the way she does now.
I will never know China like her.
I will never be Chinese like her.
I am the lucky one but I have lost a culture and a home.
The edges of the jian bing furl and crisp before she flips it and cracks an egg on top.
The street vendor speaks to me.
I point, trying my best to respond to questions I cannot understand.
She stares at me strangely,
Why can’t she speak Chinese?
She looks it.
That gaze follows me, a constant companion.
Where are you from?
Silently, I walk away from the vendor.
Cradling a steaming, savoury parcel with the plastic bag double-knotted.
My memories of her seep into my dreams.
When I inevitably wake,
She is gone and I am left wondering.
What if I was the girl on the stairs and she the one…
With two mothers, a sister, and a house across the ocean with food always on the table?
I step through the gates, knowing I’ll never be back.
To this place,
the concrete steps,
the banquet table full of food,
the babies in wooden cribs,
Her.
Black braided hair bounces as she joyfully leads her new friend around her home.
Her friend speaks very little, eyeing her with curiosity and trepidation.
How much of their shared tongue does she know?
I watch her eat at the banquet table.
Feasting, knowing there will be less food tomorrow.
I watch her devour crab leg after crab leg, juice spraying, each leg sucked clean.
I remember feeling that hunger.
A hunger that existed long before my mouth could form the words to describe it.
Eating to make up for the meals missed and the lack of meals in the future.
She observes her differently than the others.
She hasn’t heard her speak apart from xie xie and ni hao.
She is younger than her, by a few years.
They have the same eyes, black hair, and yellow skin, turned brown in the hot summer days.
Though I am ‘coming home’ I do not feel that I belong here.
I cannot and will never speak Mandarin the way she does now.
I will never know China like her.
I will never be Chinese like her.
I am the lucky one but I have lost a culture and a home.
The edges of the jian bing furl and crisp before she flips it and cracks an egg on top.
The street vendor speaks to me.
I point, trying my best to respond to questions I cannot understand.
She stares at me strangely,
Why can’t she speak Chinese?
She looks it.
That gaze follows me, a constant companion.
Where are you from?
Silently, I walk away from the vendor.
Cradling a steaming, savoury parcel with the plastic bag double-knotted.
My memories of her seep into my dreams.
When I inevitably wake,
She is gone and I am left wondering.
What if I was the girl on the stairs and she the one…
With two mothers, a sister, and a house across the ocean with food always on the table?
I step through the gates, knowing I’ll never be back.
To this place,
the concrete steps,
the banquet table full of food,
the babies in wooden cribs,
Her.
Sara Cook is a cellist studying on the MA Chamber Music Course at the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. She is also an Alexander Technique and cello teacher. As a teacher, she instils curiosity, thoughtfulness, and kindness into her students. In her free time, she enjoys hiking in the mountains of Scotland.
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