鞋子的旅程｜The Day

The taxi driver lets me out at the airport doors and helps me unload three huge pieces of luggage. The night is closing in on Taiwan, but where I am going it is just dawn. I don't remember how many times I have departed from this airport by myself. Every time I feel as if I am leaving for the last time.

After the fasten seatbelt indicator turns off, I take off my faded blue shoes. Three hours ago, my mother tried to convince me to throw them out because the bottoms of the shoes were worn down.

“You can't bring everything, you just can't,” my mother said to me.

I pretended I didn't hear her and kept on packing.

I left my hometown to go to university. I moved to Taipei and built a new life and career. Then I crossed time zones to Berlin chasing an endless degree, and now I was getting ready to fly to Toronto. Every time I moved, I always left behind so much-- not only my favourite books, but intangibles like the familiar tastes, the dear friendships, the celebrations with my family, and even a part of myself.

This time I was going to bring everything with me, including textbooks for the three different languages I learned, about 100 city mugs I collected from each place I visited, and, over 2000 postcards bearing the different addresses I lived. I was even going to bring this pair of shoes, hardened but still resilient.

My relationship with these blue shoes stretches back 10 years. I was first attracted by their distinctive design. There were silhouettes of ancient Roman legions surrounding the soles of the shoes, where I saw my ambition: I wanted to “go outside,” anywhere out of this tropical island. I was so determined, fearless, and without any hint of hesitation. I believed everything I owned was a cage, which prevented me from flying.

I did fly. The first time, second time, and the flying became endless.

I no longer felt the nervousness of take-off and landing that I used to have. When you flight over fifteen times in one year, you felt at ease with this narrow uncomfortable seat in the sky.

But “going outside” was lonely. I didn't realize it when I was 25 years old. There was no one telling me that the embarrassment of not being able to express myself well in another language could burn down my passion. No one said that the fear of dying alone and undiscovered could nibble at my courage. No one talked about the loneliness I would feel when everyone I knew was celebrating New Year but I was still in the year behind. But it was there, and that loneliness wore out my strength.

Eventually, I realized that living and travelling alone in strange lands made me feel shell shocked. I started to seek a way to back to the society I came from. I didn't get my wish. Instead, I met someone who led me to yet another country.

The fasten seatbelt indicator turns on again. I put the blue shoes on. Actually, I got three pairs of exactly the same shoes 10 years ago. I threw one pair out when I left Berlin and left another one behind when I sold my apartment in Taipei. This is the last pair. It witnesses my entire journey. And this might be the final destination.

I turn on my phone and see my husband's message. My new family is at the airport and “see you soon!” I know there will be another complicated landing process here, to go through. I am ready for it.

 Original for The Shoe Project. 2018年写成，当时的英文还很中文。

关于我和The Shoe Project的爱恨纠葛可以读这篇多伦多女性写作团体。

上个月， The Shoe Project的主持作家写了Email来给我，说她会在最新一期的移民女性写作工作坊上朗读我的文章，原来她也就是告知，而我不以为意，没想到过了几天后，她又寄了一封Email来，并且附上数张明信片的照片，全是这一期工作坊的成员写给我的反馈，让我内心相当感动。尽管再回校读书后几乎找不到时间再次参与The Shoe Project，但同期成员之间还是偶尔会相互关心，跨越时间的交流也时而有之，移民加拿大是我们共同的梦想、经验、和未来，无论是泪中带笑还是笑中带泪，总是很高兴有共鸣。

趁着Matters推出翻译新功能，刚好可以分享。

下面是收到的反馈，纪录一下。希望很快能够读到她们和她们鞋子的故事。

我在新性感杂志上因为翻译新功能而败部复活(?)的最新文章： 她说五种语言

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