Dad storms in under the roasting Taipei sun:
“Our apartment is on fire!!” 🔥🏃♂️
Me: WTF??
We rush out.
I’m calling Mum — 20 times, no answer.
Brain racing: real? fake news? catastrophic?
Arrive… it’s the building across the road.
Mum? Later strolls in from her Tai Chi party, cheerful, blissfully unaware.
Me? Still sweating in yoga gear, wondering what just happened.
Here’s the part I didn’t expect.
I moved back to Taiwan this year after 20 years away.
Most days, I feel like I don’t quite belong.
Like I’m a visitor in the place I grew up.
But in that moment — heart racing, standing beside Dad, waiting for answers —
I was glad I was here.
Even though the fire wasn’t ours.
The moment was.
