Chapter 7
Saturdays in Ximending
By the time Saturday arrived, neither of them needed to decide where
they would go.
Almost without discussing it, they found themselves walking towards
Ximending.
In the Taipei of the early 1960s, Ximending was where the city seemed to
gather. Young people wandered past shop windows, couples queued outside
cinemas, cafés buzzed with conversation and the streets carried an
energy that felt different from the quieter neighbourhoods where most
families lived. For a generation coming of age in a changing Taiwan, it
was a place where the future seemed just a little closer.
For 阿嬤 and Grandpa, it was simply somewhere they enjoyed being
together.
阿嬤 never described those weekends as elaborate dates.
They walked.
They talked.
Sometimes they watched a film.
Sometimes they wandered through the shops before finding somewhere to
sit and continue their conversation. There was no need to fill every
moment with activity. After seeing one another almost every day, they
had already become comfortable in each other's company.
That comfort, more than excitement, is what 阿嬤 remembered.
It is easy to imagine romance through the lens of modern life, with
carefully planned outings and photographs to capture every occasion.
Their generation experienced courtship differently.
Neither of them had much money, nor did either expect extravagance.
The pleasure was not in where they went but in the freedom to spend a
quiet afternoon together after a busy week of work and study.
阿嬤 smiled as she recalled those years because they felt so
ordinary.
Only much later did she realise that ordinary days often become life's
most treasured memories.
As they walked through Ximending, they were also walking through a city
finding its own confidence. Taipei was growing quickly. New businesses
opened their doors, cinemas introduced audiences to films from around
the world, and young people began imagining futures that looked
different from those of their parents. Yet for all the changes taking
place around them, the values 阿嬤 had learned at home remained
unchanged.
She was never attracted by glamour. What mattered to her was character.
By then she had already seen how Grandpa treated strangers, how
patiently he spoke with her parents, and how naturally he became part of
her family's everyday life.
Weekend walks did not persuade her to love him. They simply gave love room to grow.
阿嬤 often laughed when people asked whether Grandpa had ever made a
grand romantic gesture.
That was never his way.
He did not need expensive gifts or carefully rehearsed words. He was thoughtful, dependable, easy to be with.
As the weeks became months, 阿嬤 realised she looked forward to those
Saturdays almost as much as she looked forward to hearing his familiar
knock on the front door during the week.
Without either of them saying it aloud, they had begun imagining a
future that included the other.
第七章
西門町的星期六
每到星期六,他們兩個誰也不需要決定要去哪裡。
幾乎不用商量,他們就發現自己正往西門町走去。
在一九六○年代初期的臺北,西門町是整座城市似乎聚集的地方。年輕人在櫥窗前流連,情侶在電影院外排隊,咖啡館裡充滿了談話聲,街道上有著一種不同於大多數家庭居住的安靜社區的活力。對一個在變遷中的台灣長大的世代來說,這裡是一個讓人覺得未來離得更近了一點的地方。
對阿嬤和阿公來說,這裡只是他們喜歡在一起的地方。
阿嬤從來沒有把那些週末形容為精心安排的約會。
他們走路。
他們聊天。
有時候看一場電影。
有時候逛逛商店,然後找個地方坐下來,繼續說他們的話。不需要用活動填滿每一分鐘。幾乎天天見面的他們,早已習慣了彼此的存在。
那種自在,比浪漫的感覺更讓阿嬤難忘。
我們很容易用現代生活的濾鏡來想像愛情——精心策劃的出遊、捕捉每一個瞬間的照片。但他們那一代人的約會方式不同。
他們兩個都沒有多少錢,也誰都不期待奢華。
快樂的來源不是去哪裡,而是在忙碌了一整個星期的工作和學業之後,能一起度過一個安靜的下午。
阿嬤笑著回憶那些年,因為它們感覺如此平凡。
一直到很久以後,她才明白,平凡的日子,往往會成為人生中最珍貴的回憶。
當他們走過西門町的時候,他們也正走過一座正在找到自己信心的城市。臺北在快速成長。新店家開張了,電影院為觀眾帶來了世界各國的影片,年輕人開始想像和父母不同的未來。但在這一切變化之中,阿嬤在家裡學到的價值觀不曾改變。
她從來不為浮華所動。她在意的是品格。
那時候,她已經看過阿公如何對待陌生人、如何耐心地和她的父母說話、如何自然而然地融入她家庭的日常生活。
週末的散步沒有說服她去愛他。它們只是給了愛成長的空間。
有人問阿嬤,阿公有沒有做過什麼浪漫的大排場,她總是笑個不停。
那不是他的作風。
他不需要貴重的禮物或精心排練的台詞。他是體貼的、可靠的、相處起來很自在的人。
隨著時間過去,阿嬤發現,她開始期待星期六,就像她期待平日聽到那個熟悉的敲門聲一樣。
他們兩個都沒有說出口,但他們已經開始想像一個有對方的未來。