If you missed the first part of the story, be sure to check out Part 1 here.
As I walked down the hill leaving the temple, I felt more strength and power than I ever thought possible. Yes, I thought, I am going to take my boys back to China and everything will be okay. I felt as if angels were lifting me every step of the way.
We spent the rest of the day at the beach (of course) and I felt peace that I couldn’t explain. This was the day we were originally supposed to fly back to China. I kept checking COVID numbers in Guangzhou and paid close attention to the consulate community’s Wechat messages, but I felt good.
Two days later our world was turned upside down. The State Department issued Authorized Departure for all consulate/embassy personnel in China. In other words, anyone who wanted to leave the country was authorized to do so. Families could stay if they wanted, but they had to accept the risks that could come with that choice.
Oh yeah, and anyone outside of China at the time the government issued Authorized Departure was not allowed to return home.
This news did not come as a surprise to us as the day before we had received warning messages to everyone outside of China to come back if they wanted to get their stuff. The reality of being banned from going home, however, left us confused and anxious. Where would we go? What about all of our stuff? How would I keep my boys warm getting off the plane in a non-tropical climate?
I immediately called our dear friend, Ellen, and explained the situation and asked if we could stay with them for a week until we had more information. Ellen and her family took us in when we first moved to DC and made us feel like family. They swooned over baby A and missed him so much when we moved to China. They even came to visit us and we all took a trip to Hong Kong Disneyland before I gave birth to T.
“YES!” She said. “Stay as long as you want! Stay six months if you want!” Nobody could have predicted what the future would look like in just a few short months.
We booked our flight to Washington D.C. for Saturday. It rained on our way to the airport.
I choked back tears on the flight as I thought about how wrong it all felt. We should be going back to China right now, I thought. Would we ever get to say goodbye to our friends? I wanted to turn the plane around. I felt remorse that I hadn’t yet given our sweet ayi her hongbao for Chinese New Year. I felt regret that I hadn’t let A pack all of his favorite Paw Patrol cars that Santa gave him for Christmas. I felt anxious for my friends in China, both foreigners and Chinese citizens.
The plan landed and Ellen and her family picked us up from the airport. They wrapped up our boys in giant warm coats and blankets. My heart was so full of gratitude. They took us to their house where Ellen had created a play room for the boys filled with their old toys and toys that they borrowed from friends.
One friend dropped off a bag full of boy winter clothes in the exact sizes we needed. Another friend dropped off miscellaneous baby items and a couple sweaters for me to borrow. One sweet girl, who I’d never met but would come to know, left a bag of sweaters and boots for me. A separate friend and her husband lent us winter clothes and baby toys. And a dear woman who explained that she knew what it was like to have to suddenly relocate gave us a Target gift card.
Amidst all the confusion and uncertainty, we felt overwhelming gratitude and love for the many kind people who worked so hard to help us through that transition. That list doesn’t even include the countless people who offered to help. If you are one of those people reading this right now, THANK YOU. There aren’t words to express how much that meant to us during that time.
Jarek was able to take a couple days off before starting work in DC. He was put on a team which monitored the disease and later worked to bring home American citizens stranded in affected countries.
We made the decision to stay with Ellen so that A could be in a familiar place well stocked with friends and toys. (His very best friend is her 18-year-old son whom A calls Seesee.) Things were “normal” for a little while. The house was empty most of the day while I cared for the boys. Seesee came home from school each day and played with A. (A would demand that I leave them alone…I guess he’s already too cool for me.) Everyone else came home around the time the boys were going to bed. It was a really good set up.
Jarek and I felt immense relief seeing the joy in A’s eyes every day. To him, it was as if we were just on an extra long vacation visiting family in DC. But as we watched the disease grow throughout China, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier and heavier. When would we ever be able to go home again? Would we get to see our friends again?
Then it happened. COVID-19 became a pandemic.
As time went on, my hopes for quickly returning to China evaporated. I cried every time I heard of another friend who permanently left China. My home was changing and I wasn’t even there to witness it or say goodbye.
People kept asking, “What about your stuff??” (A VERY valid question.) But the loss I felt wasn’t about my stuff–it was about the people. Our neighbors. Our church community. A’s best friends. Our dear cook who was patient with my Chinese and whose smile always made my day. I felt like I lost them without any chance to say goodbye.
I wanted so badly to return to our home in China. Not just return to the place, but also return to the time before we left for Hawaii. When I had informal brunch with my neighbor down the hall (she would come and speak Spanish to T and he adored her). When A had play dates with his best friend from the consulate community. When we had our friends from New Zealand over to talk story while our boys played.
After a few months, all of those people left China. Our home would never be the same.
I suppose I should answer the question, though, of what happened to our stuff. The answer: nothing. It is still there waiting for us to get back. And now after months of waiting and moving and adventuring, we are about to get a chance to go home.