It was a common scene.
A grandfather walking slowly, hands clasped behind his back. His clothes were draped over his petite frame, a throwback to old China. They were weathered as was his face, easily making him look older than he really was. I stood and watched him as he followed a little boy on a bike with training wheels. The boy’s head was clean shaven, easily manicured for Spring Festival. I stood still for a few seconds to admire his determination as he worked hard to pedal on a bike that was ever so slightly to big for his 3- or 4-year-old frame.
His struggle gave way. He fell to the left. The bike fell to the right, his little legs still caught all up in it. I felt the urge to scoop him up. No, no, I am at least 10 feet away and a foreign stranger. He’s okay.
His tears came, and they came hard. His grandfather didn’t move. A few people who hadn’t stopped, who were just as determined in their efforts to get from Point A to Point B, glanced down at him but moved around him as water would around a rock in its way and kept walking. Still, his grandfather didn’t move.
Oh, oh, this poor child. Pick him up. Please just pick him up.
The man started to move, and I felt a little relief. Oh, good.
And, then he hit him. He hit him hard. The hands that had been held so respectfully behind him now were opened to hit him across his small, bare head. He cried harder. Of course he did.
Oh no! No, no, no! Don’t touch him. Oh, Lord, no, no!
He pulled his little leg off from around the bike then picked up the bike and threw it. The loud crash as it landed about 5 feet away from them both made everyone stop for a second and look. But only for a second until they picked up again, seemingly only surprised by the noise and unphased by what had caused it.
He then grabbed the boy by the arm, mumbling in Mandarin in a scratchy voice, took him to the bike, picked up the bike, and placed it on it again. And, just like that, his hands were clasped again behind his back and the boy started pedaling again. I could still hear him crying.
I wonder what he said to him as he was putting him back on that bike, thinking he was doing his duty teaching him how to ride. I wonder what the boy heard as the old man put him back on that bike.
other sweet faces I saw on the street that same day