Cloister No More

The Cloister is no more. 

The Real Men of Cloister (sung in the "Real Men of Genius" melody) dwindled from three to two. When Uncle Tim returned to the Motherland, twas only Joe and I. The rent was too high and it was too palatial just for two. So we packed up. 

Taking down my posters of John Wayne and Lambeau Field, pictures of Chinese friends, twin Chinese and American flags and putting them in boxes felt like I was taking down memories and putting them in cardboard safes. 

I took a look in the mirror one last time, wondering if I recognized the man looking back at me. Wondering if he would recognized the boy who moved in a year and a half ago. 

The Cloister was the only Chinese home I've ever known. I'll never forget when Ted opened up the door that read, "306" in a red oval and said, "Welcome home!" And there it was, nasty brown couch, breakfast nook, bowling alley living room, slick imitation marble floors, naked walls.

As I closed that door that read, "306" for the last time and saw for the last time a nastier brown couch that held countless friends and had been spilled on more times than Elizabeth Taylor gets married. 

That breakfast nook where I spent so many mornings eating my yogurt and oatmeal and so many late nights prepping and procrastinating. 

That bowling alley living room where friends were Washed and Welcomed into His Family, where Michael Jackson dance parties were hosted, where Christmas presents were wrapped and opened, where Thanksgiving tables were loaded down with food and friends now family gathered close.

Those slick imitation marble floors that were always dusty and made for phenomenal shuffling. 

Those naked walls that weren't always bare. Where John Wayne once hung; where the Red White and Blue kissed the Red Chinese flag; where schedules stood; where pictures of my two families (American and Chinese) lived. Those walls weren't always naked. 

Our new abode is The Abbey: a glorious manly castle on the 17th floor perch. An awesome apartment we are blessed to have. 

When I was unpacking my gear a four days after the move I discovered what I forgot. (I always forget something on a trip. It's never a question of, "Did I forget anything?" But rather, "What did I forget?") My Chacos! My favorite pair of sandals. They were wedged in a lonely corner of the dresser I was too lazy to inspect. 

I had already turned in my keys to the new owners, but I knew my friend Amber still had a spare, so I snagged it and set off to the 'ol Cloister to retrieve my Chacos. 

It's about 10:30pm four days after the move and I'm not sure what to expect. I knock on the door. Nothing. So I slide in the key and give it a twist...

Darkness, but when my eyes adjusted I didn't recognize where I was. About twenty office cubicles with computers and black chairs. Freshly painted walls. Extreme makeover Cloister addition. The lights didn't work so I crept through my old home in the darkness guided by the light on my cell phone. I was no longer the host but an intruder. My old bedroom was now a big fancy office. It's amazing how quickly the Cloister was transformed into a business office. China is a land of constant morphing and transformation. Nothing is permanent everything is in a state of murky impermanence.  

 No Chacos. 

Then I peeked in the bathroom and there they were, resting against the wall as if someone knew I'd come back for them. With a sigh of relief and after a farewell whizz I crept out of the house I once called "home," and left the key next to the door and closed the door for the last time. 

米佳