She Is An Old Woman Now

I am a person who hold a grudge for a long time. I still remember the strawberry episode when I was 6. One day in May, I found first strawberries of the year on the table and asked my mother if I may eat one of them. Since she said no, I left the kitchen and played in another room. After a while I found my sister was happily eating the strawberries and realized she had our mother’s permission. I complained about it  to my mother. “Why can she eat the strawberries while I cannot?”  She told me  it was because I was obedient and my sister was unreasonable. Can it be an excuse for my complaint? I didn’t think so. Not seriously, but I hold the grudge for a long time somehow.

Actually, I didn’t like my mother. The Strawberry episode was not the serious one but there are many other episodes that I got hurt by her thoughtless words many times. I got embarrassed by her inconsiderate behaviors many times.

When I was 30, I got really angry at her ( I forgot why) and told her how she had hurt me with tears for the first time in my life. She rolled her eyes and told me that she didn’t intend to hurt me at all and she didn’t understand my complaint at all. She complained to me that my complaint was unfounded accusation.

At that moment, I got over her. I decided I wouldn’t expect anything from her. Just stay out of my life. That’s all I wanted her to do. I kept being a good daughter on the surface but I quit being her daughter in my mind. I thought that feeling of mine would continue forever. But actually it didn’t.

One day, after several years, while staying at my parents’ house and gazing absently out a window, I saw my mother standing in the garden and smiling at me. Suddenly I realized that she was an old woman. She looked small and weak. Such a woman should be protected by someone. If she should be protected by someone, the “someone” should be me. I am the one who should care for her and make her happy. Should I? Can I? I asked myself. Yes, I can. I will. Strangely, my grudge had disappeared completely.

Now I visit my mother once a month and chat with her. Still, her words sometimes irritates me but her appearance of aging makes me sentimental. I can’t grudge her anymore.


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