I had the idea that when Aidan came home on his 13th birthday we would do the normal birthday party thing and after he cut the cake and made his wish we’d give him his present. No, not that. The present was a week long snowboarding trip in Japan which he’s been dying to do. And, by the way, we’d tell him you are leaving for the airport right now. ...

Walking home after lunch Aidan is talking about words that sound like swear words. “Kiss my avocado”, I say. Aidan gives me a bemused look and the starts laughing and then speaking to Lydia. He wants to repeat but doesn’t know how to say avocado so I say “kiss my avocado” again and they are both laughing. Elisa is trailing behind us and smiles at our smiles. Their dad just got a little more human. ...

The thing about turning 50 is I never really thought about it. I mean, yes, I thought about it from my mid 40s as an upcoming dreadstone but earlier in life, it just never occurred to me. I thought about being 21 and what it would mean to be an adult. And then I thought about 30 as being a “grown up”. I remember in grammar school doing the calculation of when I would be 30. 1996. 20 years ago now, 20 years ago from then. I thought about 40 as being done with being “young” and while that was true in many ways I felt my mind rejuvenated in my 40s and my body not being that much different that my 30s. The first time I really thought about 50 was when I thought past it – a little while after my 45th birthday I realized I was closer to 60 than 30. But here I am at 50. It was waiting for me. ...

It is Christmas Eve and the US embassy sent out a terror threat warning that foreigners may be targeted at a popular shopping area not far from where I live. First time I’ve received such a warning. We put on masks to protect against the pollution and walk to another popular shopping mall. Along the way we see police holding rifles which, btw, is not normal. Inside the mall there are Christmas decorations and even a line for children to sit on Santa’s lap and make their Christmas wishes. But the line is mostly filled with young women wanting to capture a WeChat moment with Santa. I suspect Santa did not mind. ...

(Some ramblings of an expat; someday I’ll get my act together and maybe write this for real.) I’ve lived in Beijing for almost 11 years. I do not read Chinese. I do not speak Chinese. I can understand little spoken Chinese. I’ve tried off and on to learn. Languages comes hard to me. I am an introvert and don’t really speak that much in English. In fact, my English has gotten worse since I’ve moved here. My main motivation to learn Chinese would be have a decent response to “how’s your Chinese” question I get from Chinese and foreigners whenever I first meet them. ...

It is Thursday night. Thanksgiving. I am sitting an expat bar. An old one. There is no sign of Thanksgiving here. I am talking with a friend. Listening mostly until I am warmed up by a cold beer and then talking some myself. An old topic comes up, a he said/she said topic. One that used to drive me crazy since what she said was from an alternative universe where truth is warped to satisfy one’s ego. But on this night it did not bother me. I took a sip and said that people do this, they justify their positions sometimes at the expense of others. But that doesn’t make it true and if you want the truth, well there are more pleasant conversations to have. ...

On this night when the dream comes I am sleeping in my Dad’s basement. I feel the force approaching and my spirit moves to the window and then back to the center of the room and then into the other room. A garage. Not a garage. Whatever I am feeling approaching, whatever it is, scares me, It’s coming for me and when it gets me it won’t be pleasant. It must not get me. My spirit then appears on the hills across the street, looking down. I turn, float, up the fire trail and then I am back in the room and the force is gone. For a moment. In the next moment I am in my neighbors back yard, outside, not wanting to go inside. The force is not so near but I feel it. And then I am back in the room again. The force coming. ...

With Americano in hand I receive a weixin from Yang that they are here which means they are close. I see the Mercedes pull up and notice Aidan in the front seat – airbag child warning long ignored – looking nervous. I walk up to him and say hello as Elisa bounces out of the car followed by Lydia. Elisa is ebullient. Lydia smiles. Elisa walks up and gives me a hug as Lydia stands next to me. I walk them the half block to the school entrance and they turn inside, past the four guards. They do not look back. ...

It is Sunday afternoon and I get off my butt and start to clean the kitchen. I start to wipe down the cabinets and then I realize how dirty they are. I move over to the shelves and start to clean and toss. Organize all the junk I want to keep and toss the junk I don’t want. Gone are the two dead plants and their planters. Kept are the two pencil sharpeners the kids use. As the order takes shape I feel a sense of contentment, a sense of happiness wash over me. As much as a relief it is, it is not a huge surprise for it is Sunday afternoon. ...

We are taking the 30 minute taxi ride to Sanya bay. The kids are chatting with each other in the back seat and I am capturing notes and feelings into my phone via Quip. The taxi driver comments to me that my kids Chinese is really good. This occurred on every taxi ride, sans one, we took during our vacation in Sanya. The taxi drivers would invariably ask the kids how their Dad’s chinese was and Lydia or Aidan would respond, “he doesn’t know any”. But I know enough to know that. A few miles down the road I feel a hand brushing my forearm. It is the taxi driver. He likes the hair. He tells Aidan that I am very handsome. ...