Now the Boat Must Sail

The following June, I went back to Urk.

I'd wintered in Hangzhou. Walked the wet market with my mother many times; drank many cups of tea with my father; climbed the five flights to my grandfather's many times. When I told Grandpa everything — the real everything — he said nothing for a long while, and then asked exactly one question: "The field. Did you look at it for me?" I said I did. He said: "Good." Then he refilled my water and we talked about other things. Between people who see the road, words are kept to a minimum.