They teach me to live and to love.
When I was trying hard to figure out something unusual to believe in and somebody special to respect, an idea happened to come up to my mind that why couldn’t I just tell the story of mine, actually of my mother and father.
I do remember the ordinary afternoon with incredible sunshine spraying around my body, and I do remember the same afternon with unbelievable bad news worning into my ears: my father was in hospital because of damned vehicle accident. Rushing into the hospital, slamming the door and I saw my father with bandages all around his head, trachea, catheter and other kinds of meatus binding him. Nothing I could hear except for the crying cry of my grandmother.
At that time, maybe I was 7 or 8 years old just before my birthday, I used to wonder I was not growing one year older if I missed the birthday.
Now move on, after the first surgery, things were not going well. People cried around me and thought he wouldn’t get through it. Then there came the second one. Much better this time, the toughest night, I spent on the cold floor accompanying him. We all waited for him until he woke up. Amazingly I was too young（as I said）to understand everything, and I didn’t cry from the egg to the apple(at least in public,actually I wept when I was having a shower so that no one could tell the tears apart from the water including myself).
“Your life is in your own hand, it all depends on yourself however it’s like. That’s the meaning of your name I gave you,” he said after he came to himself.
Things were not finished, however. My father paid a lot for his carelessness, he lost his consciousness of the left part. Lying on bed, it was not only the hardest time of my father but also the hardest time of my mother who had to take care of my father and to pay the money back which was used in the surgery and the therapy exhausting both our saves and that collected from our relatives.
The next few years, the situations of my father didn’t improve a lot——but he never gave up even now—— while the burden on my mother’s shoulders was getting heavier, we even had no money to celebrate the new year. The only scene I can remember now is that the running tears and wrigling wrinkles on my mother’s face never buried the unwavering eyelight shooting from the eyes.
The Chinese saying，“Cross the bridge when you come to it,”which was told by my mother, is still my motto now. You must hold the belief that things will mend in the end.
The spirit and the belief my mommy and pappy give will prop me forever.
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