Author: Li Anqing 李安晴
In my memory, my maternal grandfather is a rather taciturn person. He is a carpenter, tall and thin. Compared to my grandmother’s nagging worry and concern, he does not talk much to us. Instead, whenever the family needs a new small stool or a cabinet, he always makes time to help add something useful to the home. When we were young and wanted to visit my grandmother’s house, most of the time he would be the one to drive over and pick us up, simply because he felt it was too tiring and unsafe for my mother to take two children alone on the MRT back to Shipai at night.
People who work as carpenters always have big and small injuries on their bodies. Although I did not see them often myself, I had heard the story of how his thumb was once severed in an accident. That story was a huge shock to me when I was still very young, a finger, cut off, and then reattached, something I could neither imagine nor dare to imagine. I was also fortunate to witness his daily work after I grew older. He once went to help his older sister renovate her home, taking full responsibility for the layout and the small furniture. It was summer then, and in the sweltering heat he worked around the house wearing a sleeveless shirt. After lunch, he would find a spot to take a short nap and rest. The sound of the tools was loud; I could barely stand it for a short while and wanted to leave, yet he had worked in such an environment year after year. Many people think that those who work in this trade smoke and chew betel nut, but he did not. I only realized how special this was one day while chatting with my mother. Yes, he gives people the impression of someone who works in an office, not someone doing heavy manual labour.
I will always remember that one year, my summer homework assignment was to draw a top-down floor plan of our home. For someone like me, who has very poor spatial awareness, this assignment was a real headache. When I brought it back and asked him how I should draw it, I could clearly feel his delight. Perhaps he was happy that his work could be shared with his granddaughter, or perhaps he was glad that something he was good at could be taught to me through a school assignment.
In my eyes, he has always been someone who works tirelessly without complaint. My grandfather is a person who shares household chores. He does the laundry, hangs up clothes, takes out the trash, and occasionally cooks meals. Sometimes, after work, he would also buy boxed meals on the way home to share with my grandmother. Thinking about it now, this was actually quite rare, a man of that generation who was willing to do housework.
My grandfather and grandmother were not part of the era of free-choice marriage, so they argued often. From as far back as I can remember, their relationship was not very good. Even now, I do not know what this marriage truly brought to each of them, nor who was right or wrong. Perhaps they were simply not well suited to each other, or perhaps they had already grown accustomed to this way of life. Out of habit and long-established patterns, friction continued. They rarely argued in front of us, but unexpected situations were unavoidable. That was probably the first time I ever heard my grandfather speak so loudly. My grandmother often complained to us about him. As a child, I could not see the full picture of the situation. I only felt that my grandfather did not seem to be the person my grandmother described, but I never said much. Somehow, I felt that she just needed someone to talk to.
As time went by, I stopped thinking about this issue. I believe this may simply be a tragedy shaped by that era—between the two of them were entanglements that could not be clearly explained, and within those entanglements they developed a way of life that suited them. They argued every day, yet the life that needed to be lived still went on as usual.
That is the kind of person my grandfather is; quiet, hardworking, and uncomplaining. But he has his own social circle, his own hobbies, and his own way of living. Through this way of life, he simply and quietly loves the people around him.
我的外公在我的印象中是一個木訥的人，他是一個木工，他高高瘦瘦的，
比起外婆嘮叨的擔心和關懷，他不太會對我們多說什麼，只是會每次家裡需要
新的小凳子或是櫃子時總會抽出時間幫家裡添磚加瓦。小時候如果要回外婆家
的話，大部分也都是他會開車來載我們，只因為他覺得晚上媽媽一個人要帶兩
個小孩搭捷運回石牌太辛苦、危險。
做木工的身上總是不乏有一些大大小小的傷口，我雖然沒怎麼看過，但也
聽過他因為意外大拇指斷掉的故事，這對當時還很小的我是一個很大的衝擊，
手指，斷掉，接回去，那是我無法想像也不敢想像的故事。我也曾有幸在長大
後看過他的工作日常，他去幫自己的姐姐重新整理家裡，包含布局、小家具都
由他負責。那時是夏天，炎熱的天氣他就穿著無袖在房子裡忙碌著，中午吃完
午餐就找個地方小睡一下休息。工具的聲音很大，我在旁邊待一下就想走，但
他在這樣的環境裡一年又一年。大家都覺得做這行的應該都是抽菸嚼檳榔的，
但他沒有。這份特別是我在某天和媽媽聊天時才意識到的。對呀!他給人的是坐
辦公室工作的感覺，而不是做這些較為粗重的工作。我永遠都會記得某年我的
暑假作業是要畫家裡的上視圖，這項作業對於空間概念很差的我實在是一個麻
煩，當我帶回去問他應該如何畫的時候，能很明顯的感受到他的欣喜，他大概
是開心自己的工作可以和孫女分享，也可能是開心這個他擅長的東西可以透過
作業方式教導我。
他在我眼裡一直是一個很任勞任怨的人。外公是一個會分擔家事的人，他
會負責洗衣服、曬衣服、倒垃圾，偶爾也會煮煮飯，或是下班後順道幫外婆一
起買便當回來。現在想想，這也是很難得的一件事，一個男人，在那個年代會
願意做家事。
外公跟外婆還不是自由戀愛世代的人，所以他們常常吵架，從我有記憶以
來他們的關係就不太好。直到現在我也不知道這段婚姻到底給他們彼此帶來了
什麼，也不知道究竟是誰對誰錯，也可能兩人只是不適合，又或著他們早已習
慣了這樣的生活，只是基於自己的習慣和生活模式所以摩擦不斷。他們不太在
我們面前吵架，但總是避免不了一些突發狀況，那大概是我第一次看外公說話
這麼大聲。外婆常常跟我們抱怨外公，我看不清事情的全貌，小時候只是覺得
外公好像不是外婆口中的那樣，但也從不多說什麼，我莫名的覺得她只是想說
而已。時光荏苒，我也不再思考這個問題，我想這可能就是那個時代下的悲
歌，兩人之間有說不清道不明的糾結，而在這糾結下兩人也發展出適合他們的
生活模式。每天吵吵吵，但該過的生活都還是照常過著。
外公就是這樣的人，安靜、任勞任怨，但他有自己的社交圈，有自己喜歡
做的事，他有他自己的一套生活方法，而他用這套方法簡單地愛著身邊的人。
照片註解:我的外公