Zheng Mei, our ayi, arrives for work today. As she unpacks the groceries, she tells me that next Wednesday is her little sister’s 50th birthday. She wants to know if it’s okay if she leaves work at 5:00 on that day so she can go home and make a special dinner for her.

(Keep in mind--small pat on the back for me--this is all in Chinese.)

Of course, I tell her.

She unpacks some big shrimps and tells me that she is 55 years old.

No way, I say, and I mean it. Zheng Mei does not look 55.

When she unpacks a bag of long, green onions, I think immediately of my grampa who used to love to eat them raw. My gram always put them on the dinner table in a glass.

So I tell Zheng Mei this story...knowing, of course, what her next question is going to be...and knowing I have no idea how to say, “My grampa died many years ago.”

I tell the story. She asks the question: “Where does your grandfather live?”

I stand in my kitchen (freezing...because, yes, it’s still really cold) and stutter in Chinese.

“He’s not,...” I say, waving my arms. (Ta bu shi....)

She looks perplexed.

“He doesn’t want,” I say, not meaning to say that at all, but getting flustered. (Ta bu yao....)

She tilts her head and laughs a little.

I laugh, too, not because it’s funny that my grampa is dead, but because trying to figure out how to say it is.

I can’t even use opposites to get the sentiment across. (Usually, if I can’t remember the word for “long,” I remember the word for “short,” and simply say, “not short.”)

“He doesn’t have years,” I say. (Ta mei you sui....)

Oh, my god, did I really say, “He doesn’t have years”? What the hell does that mean?

Zheng Mei doesn’t get it. Surprise, surprise. I’m babbling like a nincompoop.

I could go grab my English/Chinese dictionary. It’s just over there in the dining room, but instead I cross my arms over my chest and close my eyes...like I’m in a coffin.

Recognition lights her face. “Ah,” she says. “Si le.”

Of course, I think, si is the verb “to die,” which is why there are no 4th floors in China (the word for 4 is “si”; the word for die is “si”...but each with a different tone...4th floors are considered to be bad luck).

I nod and repeat, “Ta si le.”

Zheng Mei nods.

“Sorry, gramps,” I say out loud. He understands.