The van drops us off at the wharf. I step out and try to orient myself. I see Yang at the luggage drop and then we enter a small room. A small room with about 50 folding chairs, most of them occupied. Being one of the last groups to arrive, the tour instructions start promptly. That’s when I notice the entire group is Chinese, except for me. Even in Thailand, I am the laowai. ...

Elisa, you are amazing. I’m not sure what the future will bring for you but I am sure you will meet it head on, give it a slight nod and a taut smile. You are such a capable child. Scratch that. Capable adult. You use your smarts to do hard things (including Econ) and I’m even more impressed by your emotional intelligence and maturity. I know it hasn’t always been easy. ...

I’m in the emergency department of Chaoyang Hospital. It’s crowded. There are a lot of people with IVs sitting about. There are just a lot of people all around. Sitting, standing, in chairs, on stretchers. I have two back to back thoughts. The first - I can do this, I used to have Kaiser. The second - what this ward must have been like during Covid. My day started out with a text Yang and Elisa: can either of you come over and watch Amanda and Kobe? I think I need to go to the hospital. ...

I’m in the waiting area endlessly scrolling my phone when Sabrina beckons me into the stage room. I ask what’s going on and she says it’s time for Amanda’s audition. And indeed Amanda is standing alone, frontish and center of the slightly raised platform. Well, not totally alone, there is a young woman who is speaking with Amanda apparently trying to coax some behavior out of her. Then a young man bounds into the room, says hello and sits at the desk facing the stage. He asks in English if Amanda speaks English or Chinese. Sabrina responds in Chinese. The young man is all smiles and limbs and asks Amdana some questions. Amanda is a toddler stoic. The man takes notes. I try to look interested and I’m sure it comes off as strained. I resist looking at my phone. I fidget. ...

(Sanlitun Kindergarten west gate) As we walk to preschool choice number three, I ask Sabrina about the background of the schools. Amanda immediately objects by covering her ears with her hands. She’s not objecting to the conversation but rather not being the center of focus. Like all good parents, I learned this from ChatGPT. Preschool number three is the furthest from our apartment, about one mile away. It is tied to a construction company, in the Danwei tradition. It is also located near the old US embassy and one of the older embassy districts in Beijing. Sabrina is worried that after we submit the paperwork, Amanda will be accepted and won’t have a chance for our top two choices. We arrive at the east gate and can hear kids playing inside. The gate is barricaded like most schools here. ...

Today, the day of Elisa’s High School Graduation, I have one main thought. Elisa is remarkable. That thought is with me when she appears like magic in the reception line before the ceremony. That thought is with me as she performs a One Direction song with her classmates. That thought is with me when she’s in a white dress and gives a short speech on what it means to be graduating, a speech full of memories and hope. That thought is with me as she accepts her diploma. That thought is with me as I catch her emotion on stage. That thought is with me when the emotion flows after the ceremony, when we didn’t coordinate the meet up. That thought is with me as she helps me to order lunch for the family celebration. ...

I’m at the playground with Amanda and she is running from place to place. In between places, she comes and grabs my hand and beckons me to play. I do it half-heartedly, preferring to focus on a podcast and a game of free-cell. At some level, I’m sure Amanda notices. But I do show up. After 90 minutes at the playground, I say “juice” and Amanda runs to put on her shoes and we are off to the dollar store to get her a 2.5RMB drink. She brings the juice to the cashier by herself. We do this daily and the cashier is eagerly anticipating Amanda’s playful face . They both smile and say “bye-bye”. I pay. ...

I arrive at Yang’s apartment at 3:30pm to drop off our dog Kobe before heading to the airport to pick up Elisa. I need to drop off Kobe because he is a very anxious dog. Dogs taking on the characteristics of their keepers is not lost on me. Elisa’s flight doesn’t land for a while so I sit and visit with her grandma a bit. I also look at my phone. Grandma asks what time Elisa lands, I say 7pm. She then declares I will have dinner with her. I say I will leave for the airport soon. That we all can have dinner when I get back from the airport, around 9pm. She then asks again what time Elisa flight lands and then once again declares I will have dinner first. We go in this circle a couple more times. Eventually she asks the ayi to prepare dinner for 8pm. ...

The alarm goes off at 3:10am and we climb into the Lyft at 3:30am. We are taking Lyft to the Newark airport to begin our 27 hour door to door journey home. During our two weeks in the US, this return journey loomed in my head. Living in the moment is still out of reach. When we left for the US, it felt like a series of logistical tests we had to pass. Get our unofficial dual nationality toddler through customs, rent a car with my Chinese license, and so on. I used to make this trip four times a year for work and never really worried about it but as my first international trip in 2.5 years and with family in tow, I was anxious. The 12 hour flight was uneventful and our toddler was amazingly well behaved. The back of the plane seats - four of us in one row - were narrow and terrible. ...

It is New Year’s day and we are in the basement of Chaoyang hospital. It looks like it could be a morgue. I am relieved there are other alive people around us as I wait for them to call my name. They wouldn’t call a dead person’s name, would they? I guess I wouldn’t know, not yet anyway. I hear my Chinese name called from behind me. I turn and the attending technician has already started walking back to room four. When I enter the room, the MRI machine is exiting the patient before me. “Bu Dong, Bu Dong, Bu Dong”, the technician repeats as I lie flat and head gear is slid over my face. The machine slides me back into its belly and the MRI begins. ...