Backyard

Amid a bed of blooming flowers, the morning breeze carried the faint sweetness of petals. Golden sunlight dappled the bench in Zhongshan Park. In the distance, a group of elderly dancers swayed to a graceful melody—and there, at the heart of it all, was Ren. Dressed in a black sweater and white hat, he moved with measured steps.

When the dance ended, he sat cross-legged on the bench. He told us he came here almost every day. This routine—dancing in Zhongshan Park—had become a bright spot in his twilight years. “The park is like my backyard,” he laughed. "It’s only five minutes from my home.”

A photo of Ren sitting on the bench

“Before retirement, I worked as a bus driver for 40 years. It was not an easy job, tiring and tough.” Drivers had to wake at 4 a.m., as the first shift started at 5. “Time wasn’t measured in hours,” he explained. “It depended on how many ‘laps’ we completed—each bus line had its cycle.” He typically drove 11 hours a day, longer than a school day.

“Back then, people were like nails. Once hammered into place, you stayed until you rusted or broke.” In that era, choices were scarce; if assigned a job, you kept it until retirement.

His dream had been simple yet difficult: to support his family. “As a boy, I wanted to be a pilot. But when I grew up, I realized that was impractical. I focused on my responsibilities—as a man, I had to provide for my family.” After years of predawn wakes, his earnings rose in the 1990s, finally enabling him to secure a stable life for them. Pride and accomplishment rang through his words.“After retirement, my life became richer and more intriguing.” His eyes crinkled at the memory. “Dancing, travelling, meeting new people….. These are the things I didn't do when I was young.” 

Traveling had given him his happiest memories in recent years—seeing new landscapes and embracing different cultures. He listed a dozen places he’d visited after decades of work. “ Yunnan, Tibet, Chengdu, Japan, Korea, and so on.”  

“If I had to pick one, Thailand would be my favorite,” he said. “Riding an elephant felt nothing like driving a bus. No one was rushing,” he chuckled. “Even the elephant moved at its own pace. They just moved slowly, step by step.”

Apart from Thailand, he also mentioned scenes he witnessed in China. The serene nature and jungle in Yunnan were memorable. Meanwhile, he recalled a funny coincidence: he met President Xi there, while he said, “I’d never seen anything like it.” “Exploring with friends was a joy, except for those first days adjusting to the altitude. Once acclimated, though, it was ‘Seyi’ (Shanghainese for ‘comfortable’).” He taught us the word, repeating it slowly, syllable by syllable.

Now, back in his own backyard, he leaned back, the morning sun warming his face. He waved to his dancing friends. “See? They come here every single day, too.” For a man who’d spent forty years bound to a driver’s seat, this was freedom: legs stretched out, no schedule to keep, birds humming around him like an old friend.