The Little Prince and You
“You see…it is too far. I can’t take my body with me. It is too heavy.”
Day in and day out we walked past this monument, from the building we lived in to the building we worked in. Sometimes together; most of the time alone.
Your enthusiasm annoyed me, but that wasn’t your fault. The heat was unbearable and it showed in my demeanour. Never yours.
Another day over, another day closer to the end of our escape from home. The elevator door opened, and you slipped in, giving me just enough time to be unpleasantly embraced by the elevator doors.
Not that I found any embrace pleasant.
I’m annoyed. How can someone not know to hold the elevator door open for another.
You always flailed your arms when you turned around to tell me to hurry up. I can’t help it. I’m more than a foot shorter than you.
You wanted to show me your favourite shaved ice stand. Taro and mango. We ate them happily and quickly, on our way home.
Another time home, we stopped by the seven-storey bookstore, the stoops of which served as the resting ground for the Bang Bang Men — migrant workers — as they waited for their next customer.
I lingered at the door, to let the cool air out and provide some relief for these soldiers of the winding, mountainous streets.
We find the foreign classics at the very top, tucked away in a corner next to the overflow of ESL books from the sixth floor, and as far away as possible from all the vampire books on the first floor.
I don’t mind vampires. They’re not really well-liked in traditional Chinese culture, but they are popular now.
ESL classes for your child! Your toddler! Very cheap and taught by Americans! I surveyed the gaudy and obnoxious posters plastered throughout the aisles.
Do we look like new parents? Dear god, whichever ones that happen to be listening, I hope not. You’re like a little brother to me. A very annoying one.
Have you read this? You questioned me, rather annoyingly.
No, I have not read Tolstoy. I’ve been busy trying to have a life. Do we Millenials read Tolstoy?
What about this? Or this?
You proceeded to pull out every classic literature imaginable to question whether I even deserved to be getting coffee for the same diplomats as you.
I don’t really read. I never really read. I learned most of my English from TV.
Oh, I learned most of my English from reading. You said.
Ah, of course. Maybe that’s why you don’t understand the need to hold doors for others. I imagine Tolstoy never gave elevators much thought.
Okay, you must have read this?
The Little Prince? Nope, I mean I know of it. Isn’t it for children?
Not necessarily. You said, rather annoyingly.
I finally read The Little Prince this month. I read about the author and his life too. I’m sorry it took me seven years.
You were right though. It’s not necessarily for children.
I was one of those serious adults. The ones who couldn’t see the elephant, coincidentally your favourite animal, inside the boa constrictor.
I couldn’t see the sad you inside the rather annoying you. I couldn’t see the tiredness behind the enthusiasm. I’m sorry it took me so long.
I think you saw through me though. You knew I was pretending to be one of those serious adults.
It’s been three years since you went back to your planet.
I hope you are well.
“It’s sad to forget a friend. Not everyone has a friend. If I forget him, I will be like adults who are only interested in numbers…” the Pilot said about the Little Prince.
I cried.
If I forget you, I will be like adults who are only interested in numbers. And we both know how much we hate those.
I’ve contemplated going back to my planet too, but decided I have much further to go on Earth before I join you.
I can’t promise much. Adults love to promise but rarely live up to those promises. I won’t overpromise.
I promise to keep going though, thanks to you. For that, I will never forget you.
