A letter to my daughter from China

My dear daughter,

When I came out of the airport concourse and saw the sea of dark heads and Chinese faces calling out for the person they were waiting for, it all came flooding back to me. I remember turning to look at your Daddy with wide eyes and the frantically searching for an unfamiliar someone with a sign who was waiting for us. This time, it was a friend who yelled my name and ran to meet me. Last time I was in China, I came for my daughter—you. This time, I came for a different purpose as we start a new season of our lives.

As I walked around Beijing today, I was surrounded by people taking pictures of the landmarks—the old city wall, Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City. They are breathtaking. But, I found myself taking pictures of something else entirely—families. In a city full of one of the richest histories in the world, I am looking at a mother walking along the sidewalk with her son, letting him dictate the speed of their stroll based on his curiosity alone. I am studying the father comforting his crying baby, seemingly unaware of the fanfare going on around him. I am zooming in on the mother and father laughing as their little one begs to play with his phone.

I think of you constantly here. In every child’s face, I think of yours. And, like a bride-to-be longs for people to see the ring on her finger and know she will soon be walking down the aisle, I find myself longing to show the people around me some sort of sign that I have a daughter who is Chinese too. When the mother smiles back at me, I want her to know. In place of a ring, I wear the charm around my neck with your name.

“Ah, Mei yue? That is your name?”

“No, it’s my daughter’s name. I have a daughter from Baoji.”

“Baoji? Shaanxi? Ah….”

It doesn’t change a thing—I’m still an American; they are still Chinese. The differences between us are obvious, enough to often cause them to stop and stare. But, they see my eyes light up when I speak of you and can begin to understand why I’m here. You are a bridge between us, my dear daughter who is both fully Chinese and fully American. Because of you, my sweet one, a living, breathing, walking expression of love, the people can start to understand why I’m here, why I love this place, why I feel as if it is an extension of our home on the other side of the world.

Last time I was in China, I came for a daughter. This time, I came with a daughter.