Today is Christmas Fair at Maomao’s school. He got the approval from the school to set up a Christmas stall with some of his classmates and he has been excited about it ever since. Didn’t sleep much last night because it was finally happening. There are five of them but the other four kids all got picked for various instrument performances so once the fair started Maomao was left to man the stand by himself. Surprisingly the stall got a lot of traffic and he hit the ground running. In a little over 15 mins he collected well over 100 or so coupons. He did it with a very matter-of-fact demeanour, announced the price to the kids gathered around, took the coupons and handed out the trinkets, and noted the “sale” in his little book. But finding time to shake his head once or twice as if saying what am I gonna do with all this cold hard cash that just won’t stop rolling in. The colourful rubber balls were especially popular, sold like hot cakes.
I stood a few paces off watching him in silence, and the “Last Christmas” blasting through the megaphone seemed to melt away and this Mozart piece just popped in my head and lingered, like a sound track accompanying a scene in a Yasujirō Ozu movie, sympathetically and unhurried, as if the callous shell of my weary mind cracked and something soft was woken up and took a breath. As he inches closer to 10 I recently have this unsettling feeling that he is slowly pulling away from me, growing visibly more independent by day. Asking me to leave the room as he wants to read his comics, stopping hugging me good night before he sleeps, shaking his head almost imperceivably when I “bother” him, all that Jazz. And I wonder when did I stop watching him at length doing random kids stuff with intense amazement, all the while idly lamenting becoming increasingly a mere spectator of his life.
When they were finally packing up I pocketed a few rubber balls while he was not looking. I didn’t bother to pay him.
Wang Maomao 