My Father's Chinese Dream

     In November 2012, Grandpa Xi Jinping proposed the Chinese Dream of national prosperity, rejuvenation, and people's happiness. Across the country, people responded enthusiastically, sparking a wave of enthusiasm for this dream. My father, who was on temporary assignment at the Education Bureau at the time, happily wrote down our family's Chinese Dream.

    He wrote: he hoped to work in a county-level government agency, his wife could teach at Chengguan Primary School, and his daughter could grow up healthy and happy under the care of her parents like other children.

    Today is August 27, 2014. My mother's results from the city transfer exam came out, and she ranked 19th, which means she can be assigned to Chengguan No. 1 Primary School. That's great! From now on, I can be with Mom and Dad every day.

    On October 14th, I will turn four. This year, my birthday won't just be with Dad; Mom will be there too. The best birthday gift is that Mom can transfer to work in the city and be with me every day.

    Four years have passed so quickly.

    Before, Mom and Dad lived in Yangjiaba with Grandma, which was so happy. I had many friends, like Xiaohao, Yangyang, and Xiaotao, and many older brothers and sisters who loved to play with me. I love the cozy little house at school, and the paths around it. My family is always happy and harmonious there.

    In July 2012, my father was temporarily transferred to the county education bureau's office. After school started in September, I stayed in Huili with him. While my father was at work, I stayed with my grandparents. I was most afraid of the sound of the door closing as my father left for work; it made me so sad. To help me forget my sadness, my grandmother would take me out to play, ride the rocking horse, and play with cassia seeds. When my father came home, I was incredibly happy. Whenever I heard a familiar voice calling my name and saw his tall figure appear before me, I couldn't help but cry and run into his arms.

    My father was very busy at work, and sometimes he wouldn't come home for lunch. Even when he did, my grandmother would take me outside to play because she wanted him to get a good nap. Sometimes, my father still wouldn't come home in the evening, and I would get very anxious, crying and calling for him. After receiving a call, my father would rush to my side, play with me, and then, after I fell asleep, he would sit down at his computer and start working again. Sometimes when I wake up and can't find my dad's face, I cry and rub my eyes as I get up to look for him. He hears me, comes running, hugs me tightly, and says, "Heyi, don't be afraid, Daddy's here." Holding me, I quickly fall back asleep.

    The happiest times are when Dad spends time playing with me after work, because he spoils me and buys me whatever I want. There are always lots of delicious food and fun toys. I love riding the rocking horse, playing in the sand, jumping on the balloons, feeding the goldfish, and playing with all the unfamiliar children I meet. Only when I'm having fun do I feel truly happy.

    Dad can also be irritable and anxious when he comes home from work. He can be fierce; he'll tell me to go home when I haven't had enough fun, he'll say he's out of money when I want to buy something, and he'll grab me and walk away when I'm chasing after other children home, never caring how sad I am, and he'll even give me a serious lecture. I couldn't hear a word he said, and my crying grew louder and louder. Then Dad, like a furious bull, his eyes red and his face contorted, ordered me to stop crying. I was too scared to utter a sound. At that moment

    , I missed my mother so much. If only she were here, she would surely say, "Why are you taking your work troubles out on the child?" I cried out for my mother, for my mother, and only then did Dad seem to calm down and comfort me, pampering me. On Fridays, Mom would come home, always bringing some delicious treats—bananas, peaches, mangoes—I love mangoes the most.

    When Mom came home, she would wash my clothes, gently rubbing them with her hands. She always said Dad didn't wash my clothes properly. I loved it when Mom bathed me; unlike my careless Dad, who would get water in my eyes.

    I loved being with Mom and Dad because I could hold Dad's hand with my left and Mom's with my right and swing on the swings. We'd go for walks together, and if I got lazy and didn't want to walk anymore, Dad would carry Mom on his back, or Dad would hold Mom's arms.

    But happiness is fleeting. On Mondays, I often wake up alone in bed, without my mother or father, only my loving grandmother.

    One day, my father took me to Xinyi Kindergarten. There were so many toys! He asked if I enjoyed it, and I said yes. He said, "How about you come here to play every day?" I said yes.

    After that, every morning my father would drop me off in the Dingding class at Xinyi Kindergarten and leave. I was so sad when he disappeared. I wanted to go out and look for him, but they wouldn't let me. Crying made me feel a little better, but no one paid attention to me. Even when my eyes were red and my voice was hoarse, it didn't help; I even got scolded by the teachers.

    I knew there was a camera on the classroom wall, and my father could see how heartbroken I was on his computer in his office. I wondered what he felt then.

    For the next few months, my father always lied to me every morning, saying he would take me to play, but every time it was to Xinyi Kindergarten. So every day when we reached Jiudong Bridge, I would reflexively start crying because I was scared. I was really scared—scared of the unfamiliar children in the classroom, scared of the strict teacher, and most of all, scared of not seeing my dad all day. But it was no use. Dad told me he had paid a lot of money to the kindergarten, and that I went there every day to collect that money, so I had to go. He never cared how tightly I clung to him or hugged him; he would just cruelly leave me there. For a long time afterward, I felt uneasy every time I passed Jiudong Bridge, even just on the way. I worried that I would be locked up in the kindergarten again.

    I really didn't want to go to kindergarten to earn the money Dad talked about, but Dad said that if I didn't earn money, how could I buy things, like toys?

    I wished I were sick, because then Dad would come and pick me up, and I could stay with Grandma and not have to go to school. Even though Grandma was sick and couldn't take me outside to play, I could still play with my toys happily by myself.

    For some reason, after the start of the new school year in September 2013, I no longer needed to go to Xinyi Kindergarten. I went to Dongjie Kindergarten for the junior class. I really liked Teacher Tu, Aunt Xiao, and Aunt Yin there. They were all very kind to me. I especially loved it when Teacher Tu called me "Little One." Every time she called me that, I would run into her arms. I also loved the beautiful music she played on the piano with her nimble fingers.

    I got used to my dad taking me to school in the morning and my grandpa picking me up in the afternoon, and I gradually made some friends. Every day went by like this.

    I knew that my dad had to work during the day and then take care of me after work, which was quite tiring. He didn't have any time for himself, and he wished my mom could be there to take care of me. I knew that my mom also didn't want to leave us, but what could she do when she had to go to work in Yangjiaba, 80 kilometers away, to earn money? I felt very disappointed when I couldn't see my mom when I wanted to. Sometimes when my mom came back and called me, I would get angry and pretend not to hear her.

    I shouldn't have done that.

    Because my mom once said that my dad and Heyi were her everything. After Dad and I arrived in Huili, Grandma returned to Fule. Mom was left alone in Yangjiaba, facing the once joyful but now empty little house, and she missed Dad and me terribly. Especially after Grandma was diagnosed with an incurable disease, thinking of her critically ill grandmother and me, so young and innocent, Mom tossed and turned at night, waking up in the middle of the night, tears streaming down her face.

    How could I, so young, understand the hardships my parents endured?

    Mom left at 6:30 am on Monday, before dawn, often suffering from motion sickness. She was a homeroom teacher and also the head of the teaching and research group, striving to achieve good teaching results while preparing for difficult exams. She would come back on Fridays to pick me up, and on weekends she would cook, do housework, and take care of her sick grandmother. Thankfully, she is tall and strong-willed, otherwise she probably would have collapsed under the weight of it all.

    My father said his workload was heavy; he spent his days racking his brains writing various materials, running back and forth between the county committee and the county government to submit and circulate documents. He had to do his job well to gain the approval of his superiors and colleagues, take care of me whom he couldn't bear to part with, and also fulfill his responsibilities without hesitation. Especially so that he could work properly in the city and take care of me, he had to squeeze out limited time to prepare for exams.

    I knew nothing of this. I only knew that my father taught me to recite Su Shi's poem "Ding Feng Bo": "

    Do not listen to the sound of rain pattering through the forest, why not chant and stroll leisurely? A bamboo staff and straw sandals are lighter than a horse, who's afraid? A straw raincoat and misty rain are enough for a lifetime. The

    chilly spring breeze awakens me from my drunken stupor, slightly cold, but the slanting sun on the mountaintop welcomes me. Looking back at the desolate place I came from, returning, there is neither wind nor rain, neither sunshine nor gloom."

    Perhaps the poem contained my father's spiritual support, perhaps he wanted to teach me some lessons; perhaps I will understand when I grow up.

    Hard work pays off. The seeds my parents sowed diligently in spring, nurtured with care, and despite the storms, finally bore fragrant fruit in the harvest season.

    2014 was destined to be an extraordinary year. In January, my father was transferred to the Huili County Government Affairs External Network Management Center, which meant he could pick me up and drop me off almost every day, and spend more time with me after work. I rarely saw his face clouded by worry about work. In September, my mother was transferred to work at Chengguan No. 1 Primary School. With this, my father's Chinese dream came true, and I could finally be with my parents every day, just like other children. Yay!

    My father said that in the five years he and my mother had known and loved each other, they had weathered storms together, forged ahead together, and watched me grow up day by day. Their lives had been simple yet happy, warm and touching, grounded and joyful—this was the life he wanted.

    Seeing my father's emotional and thoughtful expression, I thought, "He's dreaming again. What does he want to dream about in the next five years?"