CHAPTER 51

Original: 2007-04-16

Rewritten: 2026-03-04

Whenever I think about Lun climbing the steps of the big rocking horse and suddenly becoming so nervous that he would freeze in place — unable to move up or down, bringing “the earth to a halt” (in other words, stopping the whole process) — or worse, carelessly falling off the horse’s back, I would be a thousand times unwilling for him to take part in such a thing.

Inside the mall at Metrotown in Burnaby, there was a gigantic rocking horse installed for a short period of time, luckily. Every time we saw it, we would remind ourselves not to bring Lun Lun there on weekends.

That big wooden horse was truly enormous. The saddle alone stood ten feet above the ground and could seat one adult and two young children. With someone pushing from the front and another from the back, it could be set rocking by hand. It was exquisitely crafted and delightfully designed.

The horse was painted sky blue. The concept behind this large toy was very simple: just take the small rocking horse children play with and enlarge it tenfold. It made you feel as if you had stepped into a land of giants.

The first time we saw the “moving” horse, it was operated by two white-haired, grandmotherly staff members. One stood at the front and one at the back, vigorously pressing the curved wooden supports to make it rock. Lun, already twenty years old at the time, was with us. To him, this was a rare and magnificent toy. He immediately pulled at me and hurried toward the horse, with his mother and younger brother following behind.

Several couples were already lining up beside the horse, holding or leading their small children, waiting patiently. Because of his excitement, Lun began to grow tense, eager to climb up the steps at once and enjoy himself.

To be honest, I was absolutely certain that he loved this big toy. But observing how quickly his excitement was escalating, I instinctively worried that in his overexcitement he might hover halfway up the long, slanted flight of ten steps — unable to move forward or back — just like in the past when he played on slides, standing stiffly midway up the ladder, afraid to go on yet unwilling to retreat, causing the children behind him to crowd together in a heap. That would not only be embarrassing, but also dangerous.

Frankly, I myself was already in my forties. It felt rather awkward to sit on the big rocking horse and have to trouble the two elderly ladies to rock it for me. Yet I also didn’t feel at ease letting Lun sit alone on a saddle ten feet above the ground, shrieking and flailing about. What if he lost his balance and fell? What then?

Just as I was hesitating, the staff informed us that it was closing time — they were about to shut the gate for a break. It was already five o’clock in the afternoon. Heaven truly came to my aid. I had every justification to console myself: no need to accompany Lun on the rocking horse.

Naturally, he was unhappy, though he somewhat understood what was going on. After a bit of protest, we coaxed him along, leading him to the upper level of the mall to ride the little train instead. For him, this was the second-best choice. It cost two dollars per person per ride, and the train journey lasted more than ten minutes, running from the east side of the mall to the west. If there weren’t many passengers returning, and seats were available, one could ride back again. I served as his “companion rider.” The father-and-son total came to eight dollars. His mother followed alongside the train as it jingled its way back and forth for a full round. His younger brother, already fourteen, chose not to ride. He preferred to “find his own entertainment,” browsing through books at a magazine stand to pass half an hour.

If the mall had been less crowded and a strong man had been in charge of rocking the horse, I would still have hoped to let Lun ride and fulfill his wish.

(Afterword: Without reading the original article, I have no memory of the rocking horse. )