Between two worlds.

I did not come from money. I came from an average middle class family. My dad was the owner of the Chinese takeaway restaurant in town and my mom would help him while also taking care of my three siblings and I at home. My grandparents moved from China to the London in the 50’s trying build a better life. My grandfather still lives with us, or rather we all lived with him. This was not uncommon in Chinese families.

Growing up, I was the grandchild that was closest to him. I was closer to him than even my parents. They were always so busy working at the restaurant that they were hardly home. My grandpapa would tell me bedtime stories each night about mysteries and magic. His stories transported me into a different dimension.

Every birthday, since I was born, grandpapa used to gift me a little black book. He said, money is not the most important thing in life. It is the people you can trust that is important. He said the black books were a safe place for me reflect on life but also pen all my hopes and dreams - even if the whole world told me otherwise. During my younger years, the notebooks were used for drawing and colouring.

I only realised the true power of the notebooks when I was I my teenage years. Those were some of the hardest times for me. Being the only Asian in an all white school was difficult. In primary school, my classmates and I would all play together - oblivious to the colour of each others skin. But that all changed when the last summer of primary school ended and my year group entered secondary school. My peers endlessly tormented me. They even threw stones at me in the courtyard. It was as though they all gotten glasses over the summer and suddenly saw colour for the first time. I would find comfort in journaling while also writing down my dreams for a better future where each skin colour would be embraced.

That same year changed from bad to worse, when grandpapa got very ill. He became so frail that he became bed bound. He had a nurse beside him looking after him 24/7. I would come back each day from school and sit by is bed and tell him about all the little things that happened that day. He would listen with soulful eyes and we would find moments of joy in between all the hardship. This continued for several years.

It was the day after my 21st birthday when his nurse called me into his room. I could see his frail body in a sea of white sheets. The colour of his skin was so pale from being indoors all the time. He was taking shallow breaths. But underneath it all, I could see he was peaceful - of a man who lived a good and fulfilling life. He brought joy to his family and community. He sacrificed for his family. I knelt down beside his bed and held his hands. He told me how much he loved me and that he will always look down from above and watch over me. He said that he will always protect me no matter where I was in the world. I nodded with tear in my eyes. He said that “the secret was within the black notebooks". I told him I Ioved him very much. He then took his last breaths and slept.

The following days were endless and dark. Each day seemed to slip into the next – with no start or end. I often fell asleep on the couch, too sad to do anything. The whole family and community were mourning. Grandpapa was the heart and glue of the family. It was the seventh day after his death that I remembered what he had said, “the secret was within the black notebooks". I remember hearing it at the time but was too overwhelmed with emotions to think much of it. It didn’t really strike me up to now that it was an odd thing to say. I hadn’t really noticed anything about the little black books. They looked the same each year – a hard covered Moleskin black notebook with white crisp pages.

I went to my room and dug up all the little black books I had filled throughout the years. I remembered all the stories grandpapa told me throughout the year of mysteries and magic. He especially loved telling me stories with secret codes. I inspected each of the books – all 21 of them. I couldn’t help but feel like I opened Pandora’s box emotionally. All the memories of hardship and bullying came flooding back but also little glimpses of hope shone through. Several hours later, I noticed in the corner of the back cover there was a single letter neatly printed in black ink. The first book had a “B”. The second book had an “E”. I lined all the books in chronological order and realised that it spelt “BENEATH THE FLOORBOARDS”.

I was shocked. I never thought much of our floorboards. They were stained a dark mahogany brown. Quite normal looking. The next few days I looked around the house in each room. Inspecting all the floorboards and tapping them to find any hollow areas. I finally heard something in my grandpapa’s room. There was a hollow sound under his bed. I took my dad’s tool box and pried the floorboard up using a large flat screwdriver. I could not believe my eyes when I saw stacks of dollar bills neatly packed in the floor. I counted them. A total of $20,000. Beneath all the cash, I found a note in a white envelope. “Dear Michelle, By the time you read this, I would have left this earth. This money is for you. Take it and build a good life for yourself. I love you very much and will always watch over you. Love always, Grandpapa.” I then realised that this was his way of always watching over me and protecting me.