I never thought of myself as someone prone to homesickness. Since my first step onto this foreign shore, it has been nearly 8 years. Slowly, childhood becomes a thing of a distant past, and memories of my hometown fade into obscurity. It has never bothered me much. “Home is where the heart is”, I have always held this saying close to me. Nostalgia, however, tends to hit you when you least expect it. After so many years, I once again heard the familiar tone of Moon Over the Lotus Pond. It made me realize that, in a way, a part of me has never left Beijing.
For my college assignment, I am required to write about my experience performing a song of my choosing. I immediately chose Moon Over the Lotus Pond. However, initially, I did not do so for its sentimental value. Its cheesy lyrics, wide popularity among middle-aged women, as well as frequent appearances in shows and advertisements, have given it its status as a meme song. I would even say it is the Chinese equivalent of Never Gonna Give You Up or All-Star. My friends and I all shared a good laugh over the fact that I am singing this particular song for my college course. When I found it on Youtube and clicked the play button, I had a sudden realization that this is the first time I have heard this song in years. I felt a surge of mixed emotions. What was supposed to be a fun experience was overshadowed by an aftertaste of melancholy. It was at that moment I decided to make this blog post a piece of personal writing.
Moon Over the Lotus Pond was my mother’s favorite song, whenever it was played on TV (which was very often), she would sing along. I was quite upset with this because it meant that I had to listen to it over and over again. Even at the tender age of twelve, when my taste in music was not fully developed, I knew that I despised the song with a passion. I was not fond of love songs and this one, with its cheesy lyrics and “uncool vibe”, made me cringe to the core. Whenever she sang it, I would roll my eyes to the back of my head. Oftentimes I shook her arms and asked her to stop, but my protests always fell on deaf ears. Back then, I never would have thought that one day, I would begin to like the song. Perhaps it is simply due to the effect of the rose-tinted glasses. The song, which I once harbored so much hatred for, has become strangely endearing.
During my practices for the final video recording, I must have sung the song at least a few dozen times. At the beginning of each session, I would focus on my singing, paying close attention to each subtle detail. However, my mind would then begin to drift away. I would start to think about my mother, wondering what was on her mind when she sang the very same song. Vivid memories of my childhood would surge into my mind. I began to see my younger self, doing homework in front of my desk. I would hear my mother’s singing from the kitchen, while the aroma of the home-cooked food pervaded throughout the apartment. It’s strange. These are the memories of my home that I thought I had forgotten. Yet, when I sang Moon Over the Lotus Pond, they began to return to me. I guess in a way, a song is a form of connection, connecting all of your past selves that crossed paths with it. Transcending notes, tunes, and lyrics, it becomes a carrier of memories. During class, we spectated a music care session, where songs were performed therapeutically toward the elderly people to invoke memories of their youth. I cannot stop thinking about them. Now I understand better why some of them got teary-eyed.
Nearly a century ago, the beautiful scenery of the lotus ponds in Beijing inspired Ziqing Zhu to create the classic prose Moon Over the Lotus Pond. The prose, in turn, inspired the song of the same name. These are the very same ponds that I visited during my youth. In this way, the song is strangely personal to me. My mother used to buy lotus roots sold by the nearby street vendors, using them as the key ingredient in her specialty soup. “The lotus root is severed, but its fibers remain connected”, she would repeat the same saying whenever she served it. I cannot stop thinking about it now. On the surface, time and distance seemed to have severed my connection with my home. Like the fibers within the lotus root, however, it is inseparable from me. The memories and experiences of the past have forever remained.
What is the power of memory? I remembered my father’s face when I told him that I wanted to study abroad. He looked into my eyes and said that if this is the path I chose then they will support me to the end. I remembered the night before my departure. I could hear my mother weeping from another room even if the doors were closed. I pressed the pillow hard against my face, praying that I had the strength to hold in my tears. I remembered waving my parents goodbye in the airport, knowing that I would not be able to see them in person for at least a few years. Carrying luggage that is nearly the same size as myself, my heart was filled with anticipation and sadness. I think I have found my answer to the question. These past experiences, big or small, have forever shaped me. By remembering them, I don’t lose sight of what is important, on what makes me “me”. Oftentimes, I look forward. I am grateful that singing Moon Over the Lotus Pond reminds me that sometimes I need to look back as well.
