I once asked my mother, “What was the unhappiest time in your life?” She replied that she felt a sense of emptiness and sadness when I went off to university and started working—that she felt like she no longer had a place in my life. Her colleagues even told me the same thing, saying that during that time, they saw her desk filled with A4 sheets covered with my name written over and over again.
Everyone’s life has encountered many mothers and witnessed different types of maternal love. Some are strict, some are kind, some devote themselves entirely to their children, while others adopt a more hands-off approach. For me, my mother embodies all these different images—appearing in my life with different attitudes at different stages of my journey.
When it comes to my studies, my mother is gentle and supportive. Holding hands with my father to buy snacks for me every evening was once her routine. If any teacher criticized me, she would always smile and respond by saying that everyone makes mistakes, especially children, and that we shouldn’t be too harsh. Even now, at 30 years old as I return to school, she still holds this same attitude toward my academic challenges: try your best, success isn’t everything.
But when it comes to my health, she becomes strict. At the slightest sign of something wrong with my body, she treats it as if it were a major crisis. Once, when one of my blood test results showed a minor abnormality, she practically spent the entire day calculating minute changes to two decimal places over and over again.
For decades, she has rarely initiated a phone call to me. But if I ever mention liking a particular shoebox from home, she will take a bullet train just to bring it to me. She seldom talks about me openly in front of others, but she keeps every award or certificate I’ve ever received with great care—locked away in a safe at home, and also saved digitally on her phone.
I once asked my mother, “What was the unhappiest time in your life?” She replied that she felt a sense of emptiness and sadness when I went off to university and started working—that she felt like she no longer had a place in my life. Her colleagues even told me the same thing, saying that during that time, they saw her desk filled with A4 sheets covered with my name written over and over again.
I am her entire life—and she is mine as well.
Genre: Endurance
Tone of Voice: Neutral
Writer’s Name: Minty