I am in Hong Kong waiting in line at a 7-11. It is my turn. I step to the counter. A man whispers in my ear “that won’t be enough”. I was in Hong Kong to renew my visa and go back to work. I had failed on my own. I did not know then that I would be further alone soon. For then, it was just work. I got back to my hotel and took the elevator up to the fifth floor. Elderly Chinese were getting off on the 3rd floor as the hotel apparently had some kind of community center built in. The greeted me in perfect, warm, English which was something I wasn’t used to. ...

I am 48 years old, carrying a bag fill of 7-11 groceries and crossing the street when the rickshaw driver calls out to me. I understand what he is asking even if I do not know a word he is saying for he is speaking in Russian. I don’t know how to tell him in Russian or Chinese that my home is just across the street so I won’t be needing a ride. ...

It is 1989 and I am finishing up a work day before going home to watch game three of the world series. At the time I’ve been working as a profession for about nine months and then like now work was very important to me. But so were the Giants and they were in a 2-0 hole against the A’s. The building started to move, an unnatural sway that was from mother nature, and I recognized it as an earthquake. The swaying went on for a long time so I knew it was a big one, likely far away. I called my fiancee, Mimi, who was working across the street in another building. She answered the phone and then pulled the headset back under the desk with her. ...

I was one of the first to reach immigration and the asked me what the purpose of my trip was. I said vacation. Travelling alone? Yes, I said. Immigration has no concerns with this and waved me through after marking something on my immigration/customs form. Customs wanted to have a word with me. An older man, my age I guess, was the customs official and put on gloves as he started to go through my bags. He weaved in small talk with questions that could incriminate but as they are want to do, but I must admit he did seem genuinely nice. He asked me why I was visiting Guam and I said to get divorced and that it was the closest port from Beijing that I could do it. I left out the part that it was the only place I could do it relatively quickly without relocating back to the US for at least three months or going through the Chinese courts. When he heard my real vacation reason he said “sorry” with some actual empathy and that was that. ...

The kid’s grandma calls me and says Hairun has heat and that she will be staying there. How about if the kids stay there too? I say no, the kids will stay with me. She asks if I have heat, and i say not yet. She asks if I have food and I say, do not worry, the kids will have plenty of food. If this sounds like the beginnings of a sci fi world disaster movie, fear not, it is not. It is just a day in November in Beijing with the relentless hospitality of a grandmother. ...

My alarm wakes me up mid dream at 5:30am. It is four days into the work week and the 5:30am wake up isn’t as jarring as it is on Monday. I spin around on the bed into Cat’s pose trying to loosen myself up. I’ve been feeling very unloose lately. Pee. Brush teeth. Put on workout garb and head downstairs. The fall morning light is waking up with me as it shines through the apartment top window. Aidan is sleeping on the coach as I begin my minute working on in the adjourning kitchen/dining room combo. 25 minutes later I am done and ready for breakfast which I premade for the week. A quick microwave and I am sitting down eating, drinking instant coffee, and checking the overnight sports news. I shower and I dress and then it is 6:50am when I wake up the kids. ...

It is the last day of the October golden week and I am feeling a bit of dread. Something is not right but I don’t know what it is. The feeling of dread comes over me from time to time like an annoying neighbor. Familiar, yet resented. I am taking Aidan and Lydia to Chaoyang Park. Aidan on the promise of basketball and Lydia on the promise of Cotton Candy. We are expecting the basketball courts at the park to be crowded as they are most weekends but on this day they are mostly empty. The rest of the park is crowded with some kind of food festival. My Chinese is getting worse and worse which is part of my dread and so I use Aidan to ask how much the court fee is. 20 RMB per person (about $3.50) so I give the attendant a 50 RMB bill to cover me and Aidan. As I pull out the 50 the attendant is checking out the other notes in my wallet and he asks me for the small bills. I make a gesture for him just to take the 50 and give me the 10 RMB change. He pushes for the small notes trying to be helpful and pointing inside my wallet where he saw a 5 RMB bill. This makes me angry and again my Chinese fails me and again my dread builds. ...

My night is drifting between a vivid bike race dream and hearing my dad’s neighbors. The bike race dream has me competing against a large field of riders but only two come into focus. In my waking hours it is not clear who the other two main competitors are but I’m pretty sure I knew during the dream. I am biking some kind of obstacle course and have to alternate between biking free and carrying my bike over things or up and down stairs. During the race the two competitors sometimes help me and encourage me. Sometimes they are just indifferent. My kids pop up in the dream from time to time. Lydia encouraging, Aidan helpful, Elisa proud. When they show up in the dream I feel confident. The obstacles subside and I am riding free. ...

In a city far from home her day ends and she makes her way to the courtyard that separates the office building where she works from an identical one across the way. It is a glorious September afternoon, just after 5pm and she doesn’t have a care in the world. She strolls, happy, aimless, but focused. She sees a wide ledge that building is casting a shadow on. She pulls herself up onto the ledge and notices to here right side there is a three story drop into another courtyard. No worries, she is at peace. ...

It is maybe five years ago and I am sitting in a bar that is masquerading as a Mexican restaurant. I am with a friend but for all practical purposes I am alone. I recognize a man sitting a few tables away as a co-worker from a previous project. Someone I had not seen really at all since I abruptly left the project a year before. I waited for a break in the conversation with my friend which was surprisingly difficult given I wasn’t speaking and only partly listening. I walked over to the other table and said “hi jay” and he turned around. I was in full introvert trying to be charming mode and didn’t notice right away that Jay didn’t recognize me. He didn’t recognize me because he wasn’t Jay. ...