My daughters arrive today.
I’ve already walked these streets. I’ve already been lost here, laughed at myself here, fumbled through menus and train stations and wrong turns. But today feels different. Today, I get to see China again —not as a solo traveler finding his footing, but through their eyes.
A kind of déjà vu.
Not the eerie kind —the healing kind.
Their original travel plans with my parents didn’t unfold the way anyone expected, and somehow the universe rerouted them to me. Now I’m their guide. As always, there was planning —routes, trains, hotels, contingency plans stacked on contingency plans. Old habits don’t disappear overnight. But this time, I’m not chasing the perfect vacation for them.
I’m not trying to manufacture memories.
I’m simply grateful to be walking alongside them for this chapter of my own journey.
The itinerary exists, but it isn’t carved in stone. China is too big for checklists, and life has taught me that the best moments rarely announce themselves in advance. We’ll see what we see. We’ll miss things. We’ll stumble into others. That’s the point.
My kids have always been my shortcut back to joy. Not the loud, performative kind the quiet, steady kind that reminds me who I am when everything else feels complicated.
In a few hours, they’ll land.
And I’ll be waiting —heart already at the gate.
“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return”.
—Moulin Rouge! (2001)
This time, I get to do both as a father, and as myself.