When people talk about Ms. Fitzgerald, they always say, "That funny celibate woman ......" Yes, "that woman," not "that old lady. It's "that woman", not "that old lady", where women between the ages of eighteen and eighty are referred to as "women" and there is no such thing as an "old lady". If you spend a little time standing on the street, you will see those in front of you walking in the 60s, are rubbing the edge of the old man, but the red lips and small leather boots in a fragrance from your side of the head.
Last Christmas Ms. Fitzgerald invited me to her home for dinner, and she welcomed me in a flaming red dress. At the table I saw for the first time her two sons and daughters, about my age, all living in different cities, I heard, and seeing their mother only two or three times a year, but their conversations with her sounded as if they were treating each other as old friends who had nothing to say to each other. I heard the eldest son say to his mother, "Mom, I may have to work in Indonesia next year." She smiled and said, "Yeah, just remember that beach sex is forbidden there."
Ms. Fitzgerald gave me a doll as a gift as she said goodbye, telling me, "I'm going on vacation next week." I waited for her, thinking it would be a week's vacation for a single, fifty-nine-year-old woman, but she went to Africa for three full months and then to Australia for a couple of weeks. She brought me a bunch of photos and artifacts and pointed to one of her eyes and said, "I wouldn't have come back if it hadn't gotten old again."
She had an eye problem and had to have an operation. A week after the operation, I went to visit her, obviously felt that one of her eyes is dull, probably lost a lot of light. Before I could say anything comforting, she looked at me with her other, incredibly lively eye, "I met a partner in the hospital, and we're talking about traveling to Thailand at the end of this year." Then asked me, "China must be fun too?"
I suddenly remembered that my mom, who will turn 50 in July, has defined herself as an "old lady" for years. ......
My mom is the representative of traditional Chinese women, decades as one day, to work outside the time all dedication to the family, superstitious believe that the "sacrifice themselves" is the "family happy She believed superstitiously that "sacrificing oneself" was the greatest fulfillment of "family happiness". These years in my encouragement, mom at least also established a great goal in life, that is, the immediate this hate for many years of work until retirement, but also to go out to play in the mountains. Last year when I went home, mom also thought about it and said to me, "child, I want to travel after retirement, I can play with your grandma's companion." I was secretly glad that for several years she came home every day with a bitter look, and in the morning when she went to work and wrinkled his brow counting down the days of retirement, is finally coming to an end, mom should also go to enjoy the enjoyment of their own life.
But the day of retirement is gradually approaching, but mom asked me three times on the phone, "children, you say I do not accept to return to work after retirement?"
I had no choice but to ask her, "Mom, you've been looking forward to retirement for a long time, why do you still want to accept the rehire?"
Mom said, "Because if I accept the rehire, my salary will be a little more." (I didn't dare ask her what she would do with the money. (I was afraid to ask her what she did with the money, because the answer would have been "spend it," even though I didn't need it.)
I almost pleaded, "Mom, please do something for yourself when you retire, travel, enjoy yourself!"
Mom hesitated for a while, and finally said, "I'll go play with your grandma."
I sighed, "Mom, it's not your job to play with people, you have to play with yourself!"
This conversation was repeated many times, and every time I was sure that mom would start to struggle again the moment she put down the phone, whether or not to accept the return to work after retirement.
It's hard to convince my mom that she has a hard-on for years, and she's been living a life of inertia, with only two things on her mind: whether her kids are okay, and whether her husband is drinking or not. After years of struggle, my mom has now basically given up on my dad, so the only subject left in her life is me. We live more than 10,000 kilometers apart, but Mom knows everything about my life. She knows my weather at the moment, she knows the price of gasoline in the area, she knows about new government policies, she knows about the next holiday, and any less than positive news about the area can make her jump up and down and call me for two hours to express her concern.
After I started writing, there was even less need for me to tell her where my Twitter feed was, which one of my public numbers was, how well my books were selling, who had recently scolded me and who had praised me, and which place I'd been interviewed by ...... Mom once lifted the transcript of an audio interview that even I couldn't find out for myself out of several pieces of information on the Internet, and she She told me proudly, "Ever since I was a kid, I've always found that I'm very good at detecting things." I was left laughing on the other end of the microphone, a cold wind rising up my spine.
Mom may have been a good scout, but her mouth was always faster than her head, and she immediately said, "Of course I don't want to!"
I laughed bitterly, "Mom, I don't want to either!"
Many times when I publish articles in my public website, I feel like I am naked in front of people I know, and this "discomfort" seriously affects my writing. In 84 Charing Cross, Helene commented on a bad translator, "Poor Mr. Schmidt, he must have been afraid that his mother would read this book, so he suffered the pain of translating those essays that should have been lively and colorful to make it look like ......." Oh my! Oh, that describes me. I'm twenty-seven years old, and I can't do anything without feeling a pair of eyes staring back at me with a fervent intensity.
I expressed my dislike of this practice to my mom many times, but she couldn't change her enthusiasm. She gave my book to everyone she knew, including my ten-year-old cousin at home, who saw the chapter describing feelings in the book and commented very precociously, "How my sister is always getting married!" My mom honestly relayed this comment to me, causing me to wake up several nights in a row from nightmares full of gaping mouths.
Mom and I talk on the phone about three times a week and it's all about me, and a lot of the time I try to change the subject to her, yet she tells me a few stories and then comes back to me with, "These stories might be fodder for you!" In fact, I'd rather have her tell me, "Too bad I lost control of my shopping at the mall yesterday, I spent a month's paycheck." Or "Don't call me tomorrow, I'm going out to a party and I don't have time."
Sometimes I want to say to my mom, "Mom, can't you have a life of your own?" The words are still swallowed into the stomach, every time I think so, the memory will reach out an invisible slap, and hit me in the face, let me ask myself, so many years, mom saved those, but not for me to eat, wear? Clothed me? Did she not feed me, clothe me, use me? I'm not sure if you're going to be able to get a good deal on a new product, but I'm sure you're going to be able to get a good deal on a new product.
I had to keep quiet and look for other ways, not daring to deprive her of her only happiness.
Ms. Fitzgerald and I had many discussions about women. Probably because of the cultural differences, she was always surprised to hear me say things like, "I have to say good night to my mom every night, or she'll go crazy with insomnia. Ms. Fitzgerald says that she and her three children have always been close and bounded, living in cities not too far apart but meeting only for holidays and calling only once every few weeks. Here, everyone has their own life and is responsible for their own life, and sacrificing your own life to make your family happy isn't really happiness, and it's firmly not something anyone would advocate. She asked me to persuade my mom this way, "A mother who has her own pursuits and lives a happy and joyful life, her children will be more assured and at ease with their own lives."
But I realized that my mom, after so many years of inertial sacrifice, was completely incapable of being herself. I told her, "Mom, go square dance." My mom went for a few days and stopped going because she had to buy costumes in uniform. I then egged her on again, "Mom, it's the change of season, why don't you go buy a dress and just take my draft money." Mom managed to buy one, and when she got home, she didn't think it was a good deal, so she ended up not being able to sleep for the whole night, and returned it the next day. I said, "Mom, why don't you go out to a restaurant?" The first thing I'd like to do is to get a good deal of money for the money I'm going to spend.
Every time I try to persuade someone to do something, I get frustrated that the plan didn't work, and I feel like I'm hurting. Especially mom always said to me, "In the future, when I go to New Zealand, I'll cook for you and do the laundry, you don't have to pay me!" And she nagged me over and over again about how expensive fruits were, but then she said, "I'm saving up to buy you a small studio next to the airport! It'll make it easier for you to get off the plane!" Or when I push her to get a passport for an outbound trip and she puts it off, she says to me, "Do you have enough money to spend? The first thing I'd like to do is to get the money to pay for the trip.
Perhaps, for so many years, my mom has not been able to live a life as she wishes, not because she does not want to be herself, but because she prefers to let me be myself. Taking every moment of her life to love her children is the only thing a poor mother is good at doing, a thing that need not cost her the least amount of money she possesses, but that can take all her sincere feelings and make her feel that there is abundance in her life, too.
A friend of mine once asked me this question, "Why are you so frugal in your own life when you're the one who's always on the charge to make money?"
I told him that I just envisioned a certain scenario in the future countless times - me being earthy and underhanded and telling my mom,
"Mom, booked you a ticket to Dubai, leaving this Saturday."
"Mom, don't hesitate, these shoes look good, if you like it, buy it!"
"Mom, the seafood in that restaurant is said to be top notch, I'll take you there tonight!"
Mom, how I hope that one day I will have the ability to do so, so that you can also be brave to be yourself.
Because, this is as a daughter's, the greatest happiness.
Author: Yang Xiwen, known online as Lao Yang, lives in New Zealand, loves life and writing, and believes that writing is a lonely craft, but the significance lies in sharing. His new book "Please Respect a Girl's Efforts" (hardcover edition has already met with you) is on hot sale, welcome to pay attention.
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