we went running

when i imagined you, as a child,
you were the answer to my loneliness, the sibling i always wished for
in my head, you liked to chew on bones
so i would save the cooked bones from dinner for you, years before you stepped foot in our house
saving them for when my parents told me they’d let me have a dog:
when you’re 10, they said.

they would let me collect the bones
but a few hours later would secretly throw them away
which is just as well, because as it turns out, you didn’t like bones,
you liked meat, cooked chicken, specifically,
after you, there was always a large pot on the stove boiling quietly into the night

but more than anything, you loved to run.
you would run loops, double-eights, or zig zags,
body flat against the ground, back legs pumping,
until you were nothing but a white spotted blur on green grass,

our early walks were mostly comprised of sporadic sprinting
after birds,
then when you matured, squirrels,
you never did outgrow squirrels
although in your later years you would sometimes freeze, brow furrowed,
staring as a squirrel climbed a tree
then dutifully run over and sniff at the trunk,
but no longer with the hope and passion of before

towards your later years
we took you running,
you would trot obediently behind us,
sometimes even breaking into a loping run
although clearly it no longer brought you that same particular kind of joy

you were always so cooperative
that is, unless we passed a bush or sewer you found particularly stimulating
for your hunting dog olfactory sensitivities
in which case you would suddenly reveal yourself to be incredibly stubborn,
grunting, claws scratching at the sidewalk until we gave in
and you would pull and pull towards some smell we would never understand
sometimes leaving a cone shaped hole in a bush, the shape of your pointy face
everything softened with age, except for this stubbornness

i left home for the first time last year,
i never thought you would age so fast,
but i guess that goes for everyone.

i heard you stopped liking walks
at the end, even food
but you would still follow my mother from room to room
even when it pained you to get up

i remember when you laid in my room
i would sprint to the bathroom and pee as quickly as possible
but upon unlocking the door,
would still find you standing there,
unsure of where our next destination was

the last time you looked at me with recognition
it was with your brow furrowed
as i walked out the front door
lugging my suitcases
headed for this strange gray but sometimes beautiful place
the only place i’ve ever lived that you haven’t also been to

staring after me with that same look,
so familiar i had become numb to its honesty
doleful eyes following me as i huffed my way out the door
and closed it on you for the last time

anyhow, you obviously do not recognize me now through the phone screen
but my parents say they can’t wait any longer and i must say goodbye now
your eyes are dull and you are breathing heavily,
your small bottom teeth exposed
i tell you i love you, and my parents end the video call

and standing in this hutong street,
on this balmy beijing summer night
home has never felt so fragile, or so far away

8.20.04 – 7.21.17