To be loved

Is to wake up to a bowl of steaming hot 稀飯

Tender, bright orange 地瓜 floating

In a sea of glistening 白飯，

To have the table mat set out already

Smoothed out by wrinkled, veiny 手

Worn by years of 煮菜 and 洗碗。

Those same 手 have placed

Wooden 筷子 and a 湯匙 on each side

A bowl of 肉鬆, ，a jar of 酸黃瓜，

And your favorite 麵筋 in front of you

A clean metal spoon in each, ready to be scooped。

My 阿嬤

還沒吃飯

Instead, she sits next to me, watching me as I slurp

Imitating the satisfying sound of me inhaling food

While she inhales air

Shhhuuuulp, shhuulp

Happy that I am happy

that 我愛吃她做的菜,

因為 I am savoring her 愛

With every spoonful of her 地瓜稀飯。

And to feel love

Is to 哭 when you are five

Facing the dark ceiling as you try to sleep

With no warmth of 阿嬤 in the bed snoring softly next to you。

Hot, salty tears, sliding uncomfortably down your ears

Your neck

Wetting the sides of your pillow，

You get up and ask 媽媽 to

打電話給阿嬤

So you can weep softly into the phone, crying

阿嬤，我想你

When she’s already halfway across the world。

Evelyn Chi '25

The Indicator x The Student: “阿嬤，我想你”