Girl on the bus

The girl asked if she could sit next  to me. And it was only later that she said she likes to sit in the first row of the bus to avoid getting dizzy.

We sat in silence for a good while, then she initiated conversation by asking me where exactly to get off. And one thing led to another, she revealed just came back from Vietnam visiting her mother in the hospital.

"Tumour in the brain," she said, as she pointed to her forehead. I was touched, in a way that almost instantly triggered a tear to drop. It was as if I could 'feel' her worries, her pains, her sleepless nights and distracted mind as she goes about her everyday life. From the gaze in her eyes, I knew she too could understand me and what I am going through. Truly going through...

"It's not easy..." I said, and we exchanged each others stories. Very different lives, but very similar worries, concerns and expressions of love for our parents.

She came to Taiwan eight years ago under the facade of marriage, but in fact she came looking for work (it is very common she said, but much more difficult nowadays). She's happy here, much better off than back in Vietnam, and her sister is with her too now.

Still life is hard, working at a restaurant and living in an expensive city like Taipei. But the money she makes can provide for her entire family back home, and  she is a citizen and so can enjoy the benefits of free health care. Her mandarin is flawless and she understands Taiwanese too. Most of all, she feels at home and free here. She is truly a "New Taiwanese", born elsewhere but who has made this island her home.

Two months ago her mum was diagnosed with cancer. She did not know about it till one day she kept on calling and calling but couldn't get a hold her mum. The family kept the news secret from her. She rushed home as soon as she found out.

"We're lucky that I work in Taiwan and can pay the medical costs. A friend's mother also diagnosed with cancer. She had three months to basically wait to die..."

I could see a shimmer of tears in her eyes, as she recounted the waiting and gruesome hours of the surgery. Her dad fainted numerous times from the stress, and the family was stricken with anxiety and fear, for her mum's life was hanging on the edge... But now she's recovering, and apparently the operation was successful. I did not ask more details.

In those dozens of minutes we talked, we shared out burdens, our worries as children. We shared our feelings of being so torn between the need to be there for our ill parent and wanting to pursue happiness and a life abroad. We both knew that there is nothing much we can do, and worry and fear does not help anyone. "Just the way it is. Just the way life is..."

Two different people who have just arrived from two different countries, yet who happen to be seated next to one another on a bus. I will probably never see her again, but her feelings met mine, and the temporary humanness of our bond was beautiful, magical.

As I picked up my bag and prepared to leave, said "Take good care, and bon courage! As for our mothers, all we can do is spend precious time with them however we can. The rest, just let things be..." I was tempted to lean in and give her a long hug and pat on the back. But I reminded myself that 15 hours of flying had brought me to a different culture, a different place, and stopped myself.

She nodded and smiled. "Take good care. Be well!"