I’ve been told that I have a “time” thing.

I’ll announce the arrival of each month. Recite the precise length of time since [this] happened [when]. For the record, I packed up life in Shanghai 96 months ago and relocated to Hong Kong. Eight years ago, after eight years living in Shanghai.

I’m back for a visit, and this time it feels different. Not because it’s just a few days into my trip and it already feels too short; that’s not new. Not because
I don’t need to quarantine; that’s in the past. But because it feels like there’s a new energy in the city, in the people. After an uncertain 2022, the vibe here is decidedly optimistic: confident that this is the time for anything, everything – and it’s time to reconnect with each other through the host of activities that the city has to offer right now. Everyone is out and about.

I, too, have an urge to make up for lost time, especially with my family based here. My parents, siblings, and two now-teenage nephews who have lived their full childhoods in Shanghai. I wish I could experience this city alongside them – the city that allowed me to be acquainted with the true idea of curiosity, of possibility.

I’d first moved to Shanghai seeking a change of scene. But despite having lived in some of the world’s biggest cities, I never expected this one to change
my impression of what a city could offer, and how that would linger, years later. Shanghai was “up and coming”, racing against itself, constantly chasing its next goal. My new friends and I were doing the same. Big new jobs by day, then turning the city inside out at night. There was always something new to experience, someone new to meet. And we were all for it.