My Paralympics

Xie Jingying, massage therapist

Saturday begins with the sun gently hitting my body. The street scrambles back to life in my ears. A dozen sparrows and larks sing outside. Trucks, cars and motorcycles sweep by in a clatter.

Most people wake up in daylight; I, unfortunately, stir in darkness. I lost my eyesight to optic atrophy in the 1960s when I was in middle school.

I reach for the bedside radio. A piece of good news arrives in the perfect tones of an anchorwoman that the opening ceremony of the Paralympics will be held in Beijing tonight [Saturday]. My heart beats lightly. No matter what happens, I will tune in.

My first customer arrives at the massage clinic as I finish breakfast. Mr Zhou, in his mid-30s, has a chronic ache in his shoulders. He comes to my clinic twice a week and like most patients, he enjoys discussions.

Today, he criticises Liu Xiang for disgracing the nation. He says the Olympics are just a peaceful form of war and every athlete should fight to the end like a warrior. He says if Liu did not succumb to the hardship, he should have reached the finish line with one leg.

But Mr Zheng, another patient waiting at the bench, disagrees. He says Liu brought glory to the nation and that is enough: the young man was hurt, and we should understand. I do not take sides but personally I lean towards Mr Zheng.

After lunch, I check my e-mail [using screen-reading software] and the inbox is empty. I send out an e-mail reminding all my contacts not to miss the opening ceremony.

My wife is watching TV when I get home. I turn on the radio in another room, searching for my favourite anchors at China Radio. Their broadcast of the ceremony is so full of vivid images I have no difficulty imagining how magnificent it is.

The first things I see are the fireworks at Tiananmen Square, children from 'five continents and seven oceans', and thousands of young men and women dashing into the stadium in shiny, colourful uniforms before dancing like robots.

As Li Yue , the girl who lost her leg in the Sichuan earthquake, dances among the hundreds of deaf people, my tears begin to fall. I was about her age when seized by fate. I remember my mother, with courage and determination written on her face.

The 'Bird's Nest' must be a giant structure made of concrete and steel, and shimmering with all sorts of lights and colour. Beside it, the 'Water Cube' must be a huge, blue water tank where divers and swimmers perform and compete on the roof.

Each word about light and colour is heart-stopping, but the biggest surprise comes when Ping Yali , China's first Paralympics medallist and one of the last torch-bearers, appears. She's my old friend! We have known each other for more than 20 years. When she lost her state-owned-factory job in the late 1990s, she rang and said she wanted to open a massage centre. Now she owns several. We met more than two decades ago. She is our hero.

I grab the phone and call her to offer my congratulations. She is so happy she can hardly speak. So am I. I just tell her we feel proud of her, and I will call another time.

I take out the writing board and put down my thoughts about how I hope the Paralympians can realise their dreams. I collapse into bed, content. It's 2am.