wo jiao automan

(four years ago today we met trace for the first time)

when we received my brother trace he came with a shopping bag full of things: a fast-food sandwich, a boiled egg, some clothes, dried seaweed and his favorite toys. he clung to his toy gun for days. he even slept with it (and me. i had never slept with a gun before.)

by day two we knew that his guns weren’t just any guns. they were automan guns. everyday we learned more about automan. we bought automan dvds and we watched them together for comfort when he remembered that his foster mama and baba were gone. when he forgot that he missed them, he would shoot us as we cowered behind beds, chairs and suitcases and he would act out all of automan’s moves. when trace came to us, he was wearing a blue automan shirt. several months after he came home, he showed us how in his referral picture, he was wearing his favorite automan outfit.

when we got to guangzhou trace would run around the island with his gun or his sword- or a chopstick, or a water bottle, or a tree branch- anything that could be a weapon. all the parents of docile infant girls would look on in awe as he ran around wearing his automan mask, combating the grim forces of evil that were sure to be lurking behind every tree or stroller, my mom and i four steps behind, chatting like this was perfectly normal.

*

it was a chilly march morning. a pollution filled haze mixed with a thick, cool fog enveloped shamian island. the keepers of the big trinket tables were out, enjoying a quiet morning under the palm trees, basking in the smell radiating from the 7-11 food warmers. one of the women called out to trace: “ni hao! ta jiao shenme?” (hello, what’s your name).

“wo jiao automan,” (my name is automan) he answered without skipping a beat.

i smiled as she laughed. this was trace. wherever these two american women took him, he would be just fine. he was automan, and he could- and would- overcome anything that came his way.