英国卫报：中国,我想回来!(1)（在线收听）

'As borders closed, I became trapped in my Americanness': China, the US and me

‘边境封锁后，我被困在了自己的美国性里’：中国、美国和我

I've long nursed vague plans of moving back to China for a few years, to solidify my place there. But with each year that passes in the US, such a move gets harder and harder to make

多年来我一直都有一个模糊的计划：回到中国，巩固自己在中国的存在。然而，随着时间的推移，这一计划对待在美国的我来说变得越来越难以实施

by Angela Qian

作者：安吉拉·钱

My grandfather died on 25 August 2020, Chinese Valentine's Day. I believe it was peaceful. He had been in hospital in a vegetative state for several months, and had been declining from dementia for three years. He was 95; he had always said he would live to be 100.

我的祖父于2020年8月25日去世，那天刚好是中国的情人节，所以我相信他走的时候定是安详的。三年前爷爷的身体因患了痴呆而逐渐恶化，去世前的几个月一直以植物人的状态待在医院里。去世那年他95岁，而以前他总说自己能活到100岁。

Fifty-three days before he died, my grandmother died. She was eating a sweet rice ball at the dinner table and her heart suddenly stopped. Mid-bite, she simply stopped moving. Froze, like a buffering video clip. By the time they got her to the hospital it was too late. She had been in good health. No one had been expecting that she would pass away.

我的祖母也已经去世了，就在爷爷去世前的第53天走的。当时她正在饭桌上吃着一个甜味的饭团，心脏突然骤停，饭团咬到一半时她便一动不动了，就像一段正在缓冲的视频片段。而当他们把祖母送到医院时，却已经来不及了。祖母的身体之前一直都很好，没有人想到她会突然去世。

I was alone in New York when I heard about my grandfather's death. Because of the pandemic, none of the family in the US could travel. We used WeChat video to attend his funeral. From China, my aunt called us all in on a group conference – my brother in New Jersey, my parents in San Diego, my cousin in San Jose, my uncle in Indiana. The faces of all these separate individuals in different parts of the US were huddled on to the small screen of her mobile phone, which she held up at the funeral as she cried and prayed.

听到祖父去世的消息时我正独自一人待在纽约。受新冠疫情的影响，在美国的任何人都不允许出行。我们以微信视频的方式参加了祖父的葬礼。我的阿姨在中国，她把我们聚在一起开了一个小会议——我的哥哥在新泽西，我的父母在圣地亚哥，我的堂兄在圣何塞，我的叔叔在印第安纳。大家住在美国的不同地区，我们所有人的脸都挤在她的手机屏幕上，她在葬礼上拿着手机哭泣着、祈祷着。

I set my phone up on a small tripod in the living room of the Brooklyn apartment I'd been subletting for more than a year but never felt quite at home in. It was a summer evening, quite late, after dinner. After the hard pandemic months of March and April, Brooklyn felt warm, festive, alive, with outdoor restaurants packed with relieved diners. To prepare for the funeral, I got dressed and put on makeup. Instead of sitting down, I remained standing in front of the tripod to show my respect. I watched the tiny square within the square – the video of my grandfather was one of the five screens on the call – on which they were laying flowers over his dead body.

我把手机放在布鲁克林公寓起居室里的一个小三脚架上，这个公寓从我通过转租住进来已经有一年多了，但始终没有在家里的感觉。那是一个夏天的晚上，吃完晚饭后已经很晚了。在经历了3月和4月的艰难疫情后，户外餐厅里挤满了如释重负的食客，布鲁克林给人一种温暖、欢乐、充满活力的感觉。为了准备葬礼，我穿好衣服，化好妆。我没有坐下，而是站在三脚架前表示敬意。我看着大屏幕里的小屏幕——祖父的视频是手机屏幕里的五个小屏幕之一——他们在他的尸体上放上了鲜花。