A Winter Dragon Stood
A winter dragon stood in a small, rural patch of rice. He thought to himself, there must be more than plowing rice fields and grazing water buffalo.
A winter dragon stood in a library in the urban bustle of a city. Here were streets where suits and briefcases counted for more than rice fields and water buffaloes. He thought to himself, there must be more than textbooks and being told what to believe.
A winter dragon stood in the concrete offices of downtown. This city was bigger. Here was a center of education and business and more suits and briefcases that couldn’t care less about rice fields and water buffaloes. He thought to himself, wouldn’t it be nice to meet another? Wouldn’t it be nice to meet summer and make out of two seasons a single lifetime?
A winter dragon stood beside a summer dragon in a thousand-year park in Beijing. This was the capital. Here was a crowd of history, dreams, and opportunities. No one mentioned rice fields and water buffaloes. He thought to himself, was this it? Was there anything else?
A winter dragon stood next to a summer dragon. Winter wanted to fly west, but summer was hesitant. She wished to hold onto the crying fall in her chest, a baby dragon yet to see the sky. Summer spoke. If we go, we go as a family.
Agreed, he thought to himself.
A winter dragon stood in Detroit, Michigan in the United States of America. Here was a place he had thought to himself when he saw what had happened in his capital in the summer of ‘89. A time and place of control. One voice was equal to all voices. The winter dragon believed otherwise. He thought to himself, if only I could fly out and feel the freedom of being unbound.
So he did.
A winter dragon stood in Detroit, Chicago, Minneapolis, Ann Arbor, Indianapolis, among others. Here was the American Midwest, a place of corn fields and grazing cows. He thought to himself, here was a home for summer and fall. Here was the spring I’ve been looking for.
To my father, born in the year of the dragon and the season of snowflakes.
