Dad's visit helped me understand how far we had both come—独自成长

When my dad visited me in London recently, I took him for a classic afternoontea at London’s Ritz Hotel. The thought of showing him a piece of authenticBritish life excited me for weeks, so when we finally sat down in the Ritz’selegant tea room, beneath its tall and decorated ceilings, with the sound of apianist in the background, I was thrilled.

I looked at the polished silver tea stand topped with finely-cutsandwiches, freshly-baked scones, and mouthwatering pastries and teacakes. Iwas ready to dig in.

Then I looked at Dad and a trace of nervousness flashed across hisface. He carefully copied what I ate and how to use the knife and fork, andfrom time to time anxiously looked up at the stern waiter in his bowtie who wasserving our table, as if seeking reassurance for his behavior.

When we got to the scones, Dad took a big bite and remarked howdelicious it was. In China, we don’t have scones, but Dad had long heard aboutthem from European stories, so eating scones for real made his day.

He asked me to explain how the British eat scones, so I duly suppliedhim with details about the custom of breaking scones into small pieces,spreading clotted cream and strawberry jam on top, before consuming each piecein one mouthful.

“Oh, why did you not tell me earlier?” Dad’s face turned red inembarrassment, suddenly realizing his mistake. For the rest of the sconessession, he busied himself with neatly spreading the cream and jam like anobedient child.

Suddenly, I felt a complex mixture of happiness, sadness andloneliness. Growing up, Dad was my hero, my mountain. I still remember flyinginto his arms after school at the kindergarten gate in Chengdu. With guidinghands, Dad led me through the busy roads between school and home. Through thesound of his voice, I leaned to feel and understand the world.

After moving to London alone, I have learned to achieve academicgrades, found a job, and started a new life all by myself. But I did not fullyrealize how much I had grown up, until I saw how dependent Dad was on me inLondon. Although he is still a mountain in my heart, I realized I have in themeantime built a strong mountain of my own.

My British friends often share fond memories of their gap year in Chinawith me, and although they don’t appear to have accomplished anythinggroundbreaking there, often I am surprised by how much they had matured uponreturn.

For me, eight years of living in London was perhaps a longer version ofthis same gap year experience. London’s multicultural and inclusive culturealso created for me a supportive environment to develop independent thinkingand try new experiences. And by being away from Dad’s protective wings I havecome to understand more of myself and to find my own place in the world.