\ If it weren't for needing a family photo to apply for a visa at the U.S. consulate, I wouldn't have casually flipped through photos of my mother when she was young; if it weren't for Mother's Day, my understanding of maternal love wouldn't be so profound, to the point that I am still slowly coming to understand that ordinary yet great love. Flipping through my mother's young photos, I simply cannot reconcile the delicate, graceful figure in these pictures with the plump, bustling middle-aged woman who squeezed through crowds to get on the bus, bargaining sharply with street vendors. Xiaohui said she always wanted to see what her mother looked like when she was young; she must have been a mixture of a goddess and a tomboy. And I think all mothers, when young, must have been a goddess. In the flower-like years of their youth, they also had their idols and celebrities they admired, dreaming of becoming the heroine of a Qiong Yao novel, just as girls today dream of becoming the heroine of a Korean drama; they also loved to dress beautifully and travel around, with many handsome young men lining up for dates with them. At that time, they didn't know how much a pound of cabbage cost, which kind of pork to buy for the right balance of fat and lean, whether to put in the tomatoes or eggs first when making tomato scrambled eggs. They didn't know how to sun the quilts so that they would become warm, soft, and infused with the scent of the sun. They didn't know how to haggle with street vendors until flushed with effort to get the lowest price and save every little bit of money to get by. They didn't know how to soothe children who stayed up all night, when to add clothes or change diapers, what to do when the child has a fever, or when small rashes appear—children keep getting sick and they are helpless, anxiously crying along with them; they didn't know whether to scold or encourage when a child looked at them innocently holding a failing test paper. When the teacher singled the child out for misbehavior in a parent meeting, how could they hide the embarrassment and shame on their faces.I don't understand why other people's children always get good grades while I just misbehave and cause trouble every day; I don't understand why kids can love a celebrity so passionately, insisting on watching his concert the night before the college entrance exam, or what to do when there's a chance to attend a star's autograph session; I don't understand how teenagers in the rebellious phase can have so many forbidden zones, and stepping on one can lead to an earth-shattering war, or how a child you raised can say things that break your heart; I don't understand whether to let him choose a university in another city or nearby, worried that he won't take care of himself, will casually date a girl, not study well, eat poorly, or sleep badly...\ At that time, what did they actually understand? In the very beginning, weren't they just like the girls nowadays, crying when reading about Lin Daiyu's death; smiling when buying fashionable clothes, excitedly discussing a celebrity's performance at a certain concert; heart racing when passing by a boy they liked in the neighboring class; carefully opening hometown delicacies brought from home; blushing and shy when receiving roses and love letters from a boy singing at the school gate...\ But now she can do almost anything. I still don't understand why, among hundreds of kids in kindergarten at dismissal, she could see me at first glance; why when I was little and didn't sleep, my mom could sleep and still follow my movements with one hand to make sure I didn't fall off the bed; I also don't understand why my mom could always prepare breakfast before I woke up in elementary school, and I still don't know what time she got up; she also had abundant energy and could scold me nonstop for two hours; thinking back to when I was little and begged for tasty treats, she could always make whatever I wanted, keeping meals from being monotonous, and even inventing many dishes based on my ideas. I always felt that mom knew everything, from astronomy and geography to prices and national affairs. Some of the stories she told were things I had never heard before, and whenever she told them, my mouth always formed an O shape. Her advice was countless times better than those so-called experts.I always ask her why she can always make so many good decisions, but from her perspective, so many things are chosen in a muddled way. If the choice is right, it's just her duty; if the choice is wrong, it's a lifelong regret, and she feels she has let the child down for life. But in fact, she has already been worrying about me for a lifetime, shedding sweat and tears for a lifetime. I know that when my mom sees this article, the most she will feel is a bit shy, then she will ask me if this is something the teacher asked me to write; if not, why write it? Have you done your homework the teacher assigned? Did you do well on your exams? Don't let writing these messy things get in the way of your studies. She probably finds it hard to feel happy or satisfied just because I am grateful, just like all Chinese mothers. For them, the greatest happiness is that we live well and are happy, not that we turn around to give something back to them. It's like I guess the weight of this article, it definitely isn't as important as me winning first prize in an English competition or studying abroad which brings prestige. My honor is her sun and light. In life, when I first babbled, first walked, first rode a bicycle, first got good grades, first got into a fight and got hurt, first went on a spring outing, first had early love, first heartbreak, first failed the college entrance exam, first drove a car, first won an award, first earned money, first got a scholarship, first went abroad, the many firsts in life were all accompanied by her figure, giving me encouragement, confidence, joy, and happiness.
Since I was born, she has loved my love, dreamed my dreams, suffered my pains, rejoiced in my happiness, and shared in my joy. Since I was born, where does she exist for herself? Since I was born, she saved money on cosmetics and beautiful clothes to buy me toys, snacks, comics, and raise funds for tuition... Since I was born, my mom's graceful figure has disappeared; since we have this family, she has transformed from a pampered young lady who loved romantic literature into a nagging woman dealing daily with the necessities of life. Since we have this family, the girl who used to spend money freely now writes down every day's expenses in a ledger, then saves money to buy insurance and invest. She is like a diligent swallow, always adding branches to this family without a word of complaint.Her dedication and effort are greatness I have never seen again in my life. \ Everyone says time is a mother's biggest enemy; it takes away her beauty and her vigor. Yet time has only made her stronger, unbelievably strong, to the point that we suddenly realize Mom has become Superman. She can always get a seat on the bus, she can hold the bike handle steadily with one hand while shakily supporting her child on the back with the other, she can spot me among the kindergarten children at first glance, she will make any dish I want to eat, she can tell at a glance whether I am studying, she can scold me for two hours without stopping, and she always has money for me… \ In the tiny, smoke-filled kitchen, she cleans the vegetables meticulously, she cuts the meat neatly, she quickly stirs a large plate of chicken, duck, fish, and meat in the hot oil without caring about the oil splattering on her face; in the noisy, crowded school, she takes all the blame for you in the teacher's office, she recognizes you first at the crowded school gate, she cries uncontrollably at your graduation ceremony; in the cold, solemn hospital, after ten months of grueling pregnancy, she endures rib-breaking pain in the delivery room to bring you into this world, she anxiously finds connections and slips red envelopes to arrange a ward when you break your arm, she watches the IV drip without blinking while you sleep, waiting to call the doctor to remove the needle… \ We read martial arts novels, we watch celebrity speeches, we chase after distant idols crazily; we are always impressed by this or that, admiring this great person or that outstanding one, but we never look back to see that someone has already been guarding by our side since the very moment we were conceived, becoming our great hero in our vulnerable times. \ If there is someone in this world willing to always stand by you, if there is someone willing to always listen to you, if there is someone willing to forgive you unconditionally even after crying bitterly from being hurt by you, if there is someone willing to transform from a goddess aloof and untouchable to a practical, capable, all-powerful heroine for you. No need to mention anything else; as long as there is someone willing to cook for you for more than twenty years, whether she is ill or feverish, whether it is stormy or scorching hot on the way to buy groceries, as long as she is willing to cook for you for twenty years. If only one person like this remains in the world, she must be your mother.A song that has been quite popular recently goes: 'Where has the time gone? Before we even had a chance to truly feel our youth, we've grown old. Raising children for a lifetime, our minds are filled with thoughts of the kids. They cry, they laugh—where has the time gone? Before we even had a good look into your eyes, our vision has blurred. Half a lifetime spent on daily chores, and in the blink of an eye, all that's left are a face full of wrinkles...' However, every time I hear this song, I feel like that boy often read about in inspirational stories—the one who runs away from home to explore the world—hungry all day, when a kind old lady by the roadside gives him a bowl of steaming wontons. After the trials of wandering, he suddenly realizes in his tears that the person who cooked him wontons for twenty years is actually the true hero of his life. But then again, this is not an award speech for 'Touching China'; is a perfectly polished ending really necessary? While we can still often accompany our mothers, we should chat with them, even if it's about trivial things like rising food prices today or no one giving up their seat on the bus, or even listen to some of their little naggings—this too is a kind of happiness. Let us patiently teach them how to use computers, phones, and WeChat, just as when we were children they tirelessly taught us how to dress ourselves, tie our shoelaces, and eat with chopsticks… Photos capture the time when our mothers were young and beautiful. Time takes away their appearance, and when one day we become parents ourselves, we will spend a lifetime understanding the love that the person in the photo gave us in their life.
