我是一個不斷回頭的人, 但不是因為放不下或盼望重來. 而是我在回顧間, 總能拾獲錯失的心情. 不愛計畫不可捉的未來的話, 用心感念過去和現在, 是最舒適的心情步調. 於是, 這起頭的文章, 就用上4年前寫的吧, 那時, 才剛重拾起丟了20多年的中文.

I am a person constantly looking back, not because of my wanting to do-over or having the desire to hold to the past but because of the new beauty I see. I am not a speculator of the future, and visiting my emotional being in the past and present affords me great comfort. So, it’s only proper that I start this blog with an old writing sample from 4 years ago when I was looking back then and documenting it with my then newly acquired skills in inputting Chinese characters on computer….so it begins…..

桃園機場        (Taoyuan International Airport)

原作March 2012 (修作 March 13, 2016)

機場是和親愛的人 別離、重逢的一個重要的場景，因此，電影、電視劇都愛將它入鏡。穿過那扇玻璃滑門，故事便在空中、地面上, 或開展或落幕。桃園機場是我的人生隧道，我在二十多年的歲月中來回穿梭，漸漸分不出哪端是入口或出口。
飛機在童年的印象，只是穿過天際、雲端的飛行物。生平第一次坐飛機是為赴美留學，惶惶恐恐來到空航站，那時的桃園機場還叫中正機場。家人成群來送行，媽媽的眼淚成串，多是捨不得女兒行將遙遠的國度。興奮、恐懼、傷懷織成糾結的網，我在恍惚的情緒中，讓滑門隨我身後關上，頭回離開我生長的國度。
密西根寒冷的冬夜裡，我總是反覆的做著一個類似的夢: 要搭機返鄉，卻多是錯過飛機，或降落在不知名之處。一年後的冬夜裡，經過二十六小時的飛行、轉機，我疲累的心神在機長廣播「歡迎到中華民國台灣」全不留底的甦醒，雙眼凝住窗外，我含淚地入懷中正機場，那時的我是一個返鄉的遊子。
漫長的歲月在新大陸上著根，年入年出，返不成鄉的噩夢不再。回台看家人、朋友原是滿心歡喜的，但每一個我關懷的人、事，都在我不存在的流動歲月中成熟、換新，科幻片中的平行時空，是我眼前真實的存在。我成了一株移植的樹，落根在不同的樹林，一個入境桃園機場的訪客。每回離境時，靜候在登機門，覺得像一個歸途的遊客，家在太平洋的另一端，家在Ohio，家在Arizona,家在 North Carolina 的湖畔.
我不愛設計未來，無興猜測未來的變故。2011公事回台灣，接觸了在這片土地上為醫學教育貢獻的醫生、學者，為音樂理想努力的學子，分享親人、朋友的喜悅或憂慮，也發現兒子在短短一週內對這土地連結的情感。聖誕節當日離境時驚異發現，桃園機場對我的意義，在不經心中又起了轉變。登機門前有好多的不捨，無法靜候，兒子在電走道上來回不停的走動，我又有了離家的不安。桃園機場不再定義成我回家的出口或入口，而是一個的隧道，連結我心情的、實體的家。

Movies and TV shows love to include the airport scene in the screen play; this is where people leave or return, and the love ones say goodbye or reunite. The drama begins or ends when one crosses the sliding doors, flies into the air or embraces in arms. Taoyuan International Airport is the portal of my life, connecting the past and present, back and forth.
The first time I rode a plane was when I embarked the journey to the United States for graduate school. Tangled in the emotional mesh, knitted with excitement, fear, and sadness, I left my mother land in a haziness of uncertainty. My first return was a year later, after endless recurring dreams in Michigan’s frozen winter nights. In the dreams, I was always trying to go home but never made it, either missing the flights or ending up at somewhere unknown-sometime on an island of dark black sea. Exhausted from more than 24 hours of travel with multiple transfers in Detroit and Tokyo, I flew in Taiwan at night. My teary eyes could not pull away from the view outside the window, when the pilot announced the welcome message of arriving Chiang Kai-shek International airport. I was “coming home”.
At some point of my “transplant” life, the nightmare of incomplete journey stopped. Though I was still always excited to see friends and family in Taiwan, I began to see myself a visitor. People or things I care have moved on without me. We have lived in parallel universes; I came across through the “rip” to visit but should not or could not cause ripples or alter the course. At the end of each visit, I would often sit patiently, waiting at the terminal of the Taoyuan airport like an ordinary traveler that had enjoyed the fun of a vacation but was anxious to go home. The home has become Ohio, Arizona, and now North Carolina. 

Hence, it was most peculiar for me to experience the unexpected change in me in December 2011. Leaving Taiwan on the X’mas day with Joey, I was unsettled at the airport terminal and kept trolling from store to store, where I could see more about the land I was going to leave behind. Joey was pacing, too, back and forth on the automatic walkway. In the two weeks (7 days for Joey), I have experienced something different: the devoted medical educators, the budding young musicians, and family and friends connected me and Joey once again to this land. I realized that Taoyuan International airport can no longer be simply defined as an entrance or exit to home but is really a portal, channeling my emotional and physical existence with a boundary that is no more.