Mother, forgive your son for only now understanding you.

After the Spring Festival, probably due to the overexertion during the holidays, my mother's leg pain worsened. Watching her suffer, my wife and I urged her to go to the hospital for a check-up, but she was always superstitious, saying that as long as it wasn't past the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, it was still the New Year and it would be unlucky to go to the hospital. After repeatedly trying to persuade her without success, I had no choice but to accept my mother's temperament. This matter gradually faded after I went back to work, with just the reminder that my wife should pay a little more attention to her.

It wasn't until after the fifteenth that my mother's 'little cotton-padded jacket'—my younger sister—had my brother-in-law take her to the hospital for a check-up. It was only then that I learned from my wife that my mother was a bit unwilling, saying she preferred me to go with her. I dismissed it, thinking it didn't matter who went, as it was just a check-up anyway, and besides, a son-in-law was half a son and should also fulfill filial duties. My wife scolded me, saying a son like me was raised for nothing. I, in turn, retorted that just having such a good daughter-in-law was enough. So for the second time, I also let my wife accompany my mother to the hospital, citing being busy with work.

It wasn't until the third time that my mother almost begged me, saying: 'Are you really that busy? Coming with me won't take more than an hour, it's just the time spent waiting for medicine. If not, you can go back to work after sitting with me during the injection, and I'll take the bus home myself.' My mother's words filled me with unprecedented shame, but what made me feel even more guilty was the treatment process at the hospital.

The noisy outpatient hall was filled with people wearing anxious expressions, hurrying along, and others moving lethargically while sighing slowly—these latter were obviously patients, while the former were family members of patients. There were also people with beaming smiles—those whose illnesses had been cured, or their family members—and others with tear-streaked faces, full of gratitude, and even some bowing and kowtowing in supplication. Illness makes people helpless; all the realities of life coexist, with sorrow and joy intertwined. I moved through it mechanically, paying for medicine and collecting prescriptions, leaving and returning under the doctor's indifferent gaze.

My mother had long prepared for her injection, and my share of the work was done. Thinking that no idle person or family member was allowed in the consultation room, I intended to leave. To be honest, I was also afraid of seeing that long needle piercing my mother's knee. At that moment, my mother spoke, calling my childhood nickname: 'Come here, sit beside me, I'm scared!' I timidly sat by her side, not knowing how to comfort her.However, when my mother timidly closed her eyes and threw herself into my arms like a child, my fragile tear glands instantly collapsed, and my eyes, wet with tears, blurred the scene before me. I held my mother's hands tightly, pressing my face against her silver-haired head. Just as she had cherished me when I was young, I gently comforted her by her ear: 'It's okay, it will be fine soon, relax, it's alright.' My mother trembled slightly, her hands grew cold, and she gave no reply, only moaning and nodding faintly. My mother had grown old, curling up in my arms like a frightened baby. At this moment, I remembered my own childhood; whenever I was scared, I would cry loudly and rush home, diving into my mother's embrace, holding her tightly as I wailed. My heartbroken mother would stroke my head, always soothing me in the same way: 'Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, I'll scold him, good child don't cry!' Then she would pull gently on my little ears with both hands, chanting in a monk-like manner: 'Dog squeak squeak; cat squeak squeak; child scared don't squeak, come home!' Every time my mother recited this, I felt as though I were being blessed by some divine power. Gulping down my tears, I buried my head in her arms, nodding gently like my mother did today. After that, the fear would vanish, and everything would be safely alright.

At this moment, my mother was lying calmly in my arms, relaxed as if asleep. Yes! For a mother, is there any place safer, more comforting, and happier than her son's embrace! The examination room was suffocatingly silent, as if only my mother's rapid breathing and my 'thumping' heartbeat could be heard. I stole a glance; the doctor's needle was still hovering over my mother's knee, and her leg twitched irregularly, obviously in pain. Her forehead pressed against my chest, beads of sweat forming. My mother clutched my clothes tightly, seemingly afraid of losing her support. I hugged her even closer, fearing she might suffer any more harm. Now, all I can do is this. How I wished I could, like my mother's cherished love for me in my childhood, possess the magical ability to recite a spell and dispel all illness. I closed my eyes, choking back tears several times, letting them whirl endlessly in my eyes. I gently patted my mother's back, just as she had patted me to sleep years ago. In that era without fans or air conditioning, my mother would gently pat me with one hand while slowly fanning me with a palm fan, gradually lulling me to sleep in the coolness.Mother had completely relaxed, without a trace of tension, her muscles softened, and the medication from the syringe went in much more smoothly, soon finishing the injection. Mother lifted her head, her face flushed, with a gentle smile and an air of happiness. The whole process lasted about five or six minutes, but in just these few minutes, I understood my mother's heart. I realized why she insisted on me accompanying her to the hospital and what her true needs were! Buying mother gifts, supplements, or giving her money could not make her truly happy; what she needs is not material satisfaction but spiritual comfort. Mother's greatest happiness is simply having her son spend more time with her.