on a day off...

"Lin ayi." Goes the refrain. To my ears though, it sounds closer to "Lin hao yi".

She's a young girl, probably late primary or early secondary school age, and without fail in the afternoon, we'll hear her call to be let in. Her voice is always patient, never changing in modulation, tone or emotion. I've never heard it raised in impatience for Lin aiyi is never prompt in letting her in, and have only once heard it quicken in tempo, a verbal oh oh, after calling for almost five minutes without a response.

We never hear an answering call or a returned greeting. The only sign that her calls have been heard is the click of a closing gate and the return of silence.

I've never seen her; she calls from the other side of the opposite block but her voice is unmistakable and it's endearing, this little call from an unknown little girl. We'd grown so familiar with it such that when she didn't call one afternoon, we remarked on it. School holidays, of course.

We're usually sat on the couch in the living room, surfing the web, watching DVDs, enjoying a late lunch, when she starts calling. 

"There she goes again," I say, and we both laugh and smile.

The things you hear when you're home on a day off during the week.