Hopelessly sentimental, sitting quietly, I have been listening, to the same song - Legend, for the last few hours; Not tired yet; not excessive yet... The song is too gentle, too touching; I have no words, only wanders.
After splitting from ex, I have believed with little doubt, that someday, when I get back to the marriage world, the next man in my life, will be caucasian; not Chinese -- I'm well adjusted to the States' life, and have been living and working in the predominantly caucasian crowd. I have too strong a personality for most Chinese men; and simply more likely an American man will have a big enough heart to treat my daughter like his own...
And then, today, tonight, I ran into this song -- Legend by Li Jian.
I listened to it, again and again; can't have enough of it. The song reminded me of the gentleness and loving touch of a Chinese man... the feeling, the monologue, the sentiment...
The song absorbs me, and kindles my heart. My soul and womanly desire, hums and trembles in accord. Peacefully, unyielding, I listen to it, still; a touch of loneliness and sadness comes; again, again...
The song reminded me of my Chinese love and friend, the man who touched my soul; the man who came too late, for him and for me... I remembered the nights when he made love; when he wanted to rock me to seal our future... the man who can find me in this world, by scent alone.
The song reminded me of my ex -- sensitive and gentle. Desperately wanting to love; desperately not knowing how --too sensitive to let go; too sensitive to trust; scarred from childhood -- a gentle heart suffocated.
The song reminded me of my Chinese male friends - from school years -- the boys who were trustworthy and unafraid. It reminded me of their attempt, to shelter the world for their fellow delicate girl classmates; their courage to double their burden, so you can walk bare handed...
The song reminded me of them, the wonderful Chinese men; the strong and gentle sides -- the sides one depends on; the sides of true love and sexy...
This song reminded me of the sides of us, Wanderers, who have half of China and half of America in one heart -- too much to hold in one. So sometimes, no planned, the heart spills...
No space for sentiments -- to stake it out in this country, by ourselves, we taught ourselve to be practical --we choose ration over sentiments; we choose future over histories... Much like the song has to end because the bed is calling, sentiment, rare it may be, gives away to the reluctant reality: who would have a better chance to survive in America, a Chinese or an American?
