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Transition
Qian Han is thirteen years old.
Dear Blue,
It is my thirteenth birthday today. Today has been a hectic day. I was recounting the day that I met you—a little blue book with dinosaur stickers all over the front. Electrifying blue on the cover and empty pages that were meant to be filled. My first memory of having you in my hands was when I visited Mama's parents. I do not call them grandmother and grandfather because after that visit, I have not seen them since.
I remember how young I was... It might have been my first clear memory. I remember sitting down on a couch when someone called me while the adults were talking. Mama and Papa did not bat an eye, it was as if they could not see him. I toddled away, Blue, and entered a room that was left open. He told me to open a cabinet and you were there.
Tucked away in a corner. A notebook that had a few writings here and there. The man had a kind smile and he was wearing a wool sweatshirt even if it was summer and until this day, I wonder who he was. He told me to keep it.
"The notebook has a name," he told me that day. "The name is Blue."
I remember him very vividly and when I went back to my parents, it was like I have never left. This is how I met you, Blue, and I have never seen that man ever again. Maybe it was Mama's cousin. I told Mama about it once and she burst into tears. I speak about this because you have been a witness to all the things a thirteen-year-old has done. The pages of this book are filled with drawings and poetry and my deepest darkest thoughts I've never told anyone else.
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Qian Han is fifteen years old.
Dear Blue,
Today I pissed Papa off. Well... not really. Papa hates it when I make peace signs at the camera. He said that it is "unprofessional" and "ruins a perfectly good picture".
