Kapok Tree Symbol Analysis

Kai Ying would never forget the sight of her pale little boy lying on the courtyard pavement, his leg twisted beneath him. A broken branch, she thought, a crushed leaf. He wasn’t moving. At that moment, she realized he might never move again and a feeling of terror overwhelmed her, stopping her abruptly and rooting her in place. […] She stood there while her heart raced so fast her whole body shook. He can’t be, she thought, he can’t. And try as she might, Kai Ying couldn’t think of one tea or soup that could bring the dead back to life. Her father-in-law, who was usually calm and in control, turned back to her, his eyes wide and frantic, his hands waving wildly in the air as he yelled for her to get help from Neighbor Lau, who had the only flatbed pedicab in the neighborhood.

What Tao would never tell anyone, including his father, was what he really felt the day he fell from the kapok, how for just a moment he was flying instead of falling, and how happy it made him feel. Even now, he envisioned soaring through the gates and beyond the Ming garden wall, high above the narrow, crowded alleyways where he used to run and over the wide, tree-lined streets that led to far-off places he’d never seen. Tao felt so certain that if he had just kept on flying, he’d have reached White Cloud Mountain.

The beginning of the story always remained the same: Huoyi was commanded by the Emperor Yao to use his archery skills to shoot down nine of the ten suns to keep the earth from burning up. Upon completing the task, the emperor gave the famed archer a pill that granted him eternal life. Knowing its value, Huoyi left the pill at home with Chang’e when he was sent away on another mission for the emperor. From there, they story of why Chang’e swallowed the pill of immortality splintered off into different versions. So far, Tao’s favorite account was Chang’e having to protect the pill from Peng, one of Huoyi’s apprentice archers, who forcefully tried to take the pill from her. Knowing that she was unable to fight him off, her only choice was to swallow the pill herself.

“Do you want to hear the story of Huoyi and Chang’e now?” his grandfather asked.

Tao turned around and shook his head. “There’s no moon,” he answered.

“There’s still the story.”

“It’s not the same without the moon.”

His grandfather stroked his whiskers. “But we know the moon is still up there, beyond the rain and clouds.”

What good was the moon if you couldn’t see it? Tao thought. If it wasn’t there to help his ba ba to find his way home again? But, he nodded and limped back to the table and sat down, no longer caring which version of the myth his grandfather was going to tell him.

He glanced out to the courtyard and the kapok tree. When he turned back to Tao, he saw Sheng again at the same age, always so formal and closemouthed around him. He remembered all the times he heard Sheng talking to Liang, joking and laughing, but as soon as he entered the room, it was as if the air had changed. He and Sheng hadn’t learned to be friends until late in his life. Now he only wanted his son home again.

“I know…” Wei began, realizing the words that followed would change all of their lives forever. “I know because it was me. I was the one to write the letter, not your ba ba.”

Wei felt as if he’d been falling for the past year and had finally hit the ground. He stared down at the table and couldn’t look at either Kai Ying or Tao.

But rather than remain antagonistic, Wei decided to change his tactics and thanked the clerk politely. “Yes, of course, I understand,” he said, almost cordial.

“I see you’re learning,” Tian had said, leaning in close and teasing him.

It surprised Wei how easy it was to talk to Tian, who had been a stranger to him less than a week ago.

Wei cleared his throat and said, “Have you heard the saying, ‘The wise adapt themselves to circumstances, as water molds itself to the pitcher’? It seems I’ve been the pitcher most of my life. I’ve forgotten how to be fluid. It feels as if I’m finally learning now,” he said.

Tian smiled. “You remind me of my own father,” he said, “although I’m afraid he never did learn.”

Tao thought about it. Little Shan had betrayed him to be one of Lai Hing’s stray dogs, and now he wanted to be friends again. Mao would have sent him away for less, just like he did his ba ba. He looked up and studied Little Shan’s face, trying to understand what had happened during the past few months, how his entire life had been turned upside down ever since he he’d fallen from the kapok tree. Yet, here he was, standing upright. Little Shan hadn’t totally abandoned him, having saved him from being pummeled by Lai Hing and his gang. Best friends are hard to come by, his grandfather had said. His ye ye was hard to come by. There would never be anyone else like his grandfather, and Tao wanted him back, but until then, Little Shan stood bundled up and waiting in front of him.

“Truce,” Tao said.

Do you remember, he heard Liang’s voice ask him, when Sheng was a little boy and he was determined to fly his dragon kite even when there was no wind? He nodded at the memory, at the calm, cool watery sound of Liang’s voice, and how she had finally returned to him after so many weeks. Yes, he said. Wei could see her smile. Remember how he ran up and down the street trying to get enough wind until he finally gave up, she reminded him. And how you were the one who told him the wind would return again in no time, but he had to be patient. The wind will return again, Liang said. You’ve come this far, just listen to your own words.

Wei wanted to reach out for Liang, but was afraid she would disappear if he did, and remained content to feel her there beside him again.

For the very first time since Tao had fallen from the kapok tree, she paused in front of it. It seemed as if an entire lifetime had passed in the five months since. […][Now] the tree stood skeletal, the branches remaining bare until […] the spring. […] Although Kai Ying knew it was foolish, she still dared to hope that they would all be together again by then.

Kai Ying stepped closer to the tree. At least let her hear from Wei again soon, she thought. The gash that her father-in-law had left in the trunk was a scar now, slightly deeper in color and hardly noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. Kai Ying’s fingers graced the smooth wound. She thought of it as just another example of nature’s genius; the kapok tree had healed itself.

From the kitchen, she heard Tao’s and Suyin’s voices and smiled.