On April 4, 2004, exactly the third anniversary of my release from the labor camp, and after the Australian government granted me refugee status, I was finally joined by my 11 year old daughter, who traveled alone via a third country from Beijing to Sydney. Her father dared not travel with her, fearing that if he got stopped at the custom, our daughter could also be stopped. So he decided to have her travel alone to ensure that she could leave without safely causing unnecessary attention from the authorities.
After signing the “receipt” paper of “unaccompanied minor service” to acknowledge her safe arrival, I led her to the car. As soon as we sat in, she immediately said, “Mom, let’s me tell you a joke.” Then she started telling me endless jokes until we arrived at our apartment, where several friends were waiting and preparing food for us to celebrate our reunion. One friend asked, “Did you cry?” She thought we should have cried a lot after a heart-breaking three years’ separation. I said, “No, we have been laughing all the way.” Then my daughter started telling more jokes to entertain our guests.
blog comments powered by Disqus