(Written by Hu Ao in Beijing)
I groaned when mom called my name for the 15th time that Sunday morning. I was busy doing homework on the weekend as usual, but that particular summer day in 2004 was very crucial, as I was preparing for the examination to enter high school.
My response was a long "W-h-a-t-? to show that I'd heard her, but really didn't want to be interrupted.
"We should go now", she said hastily, putting some fruit in a bag.
"Okay....", I murmured, and then in a begging tone, "in a few minutes."
"No. If we don't go now, we'll be late."
There were four people in the car: the driver, my mom, her friend, and I. We were on our way to an old lady's home. I had just learned from my mom that the woman takes care of a disabled son, her husband having died in an accident.
Mom said that she had met her two weeks before when she came to the hospital where mom works to buy some medicine. The two of them got to talking, and the woman related some of the things she'd experienced in recent years. As a result, mom had asked if she could visit her and the woman had agreed.
In the car that day, mom had started telling some of the lady's stories, but I wasn't all that interested; the unfinished schoolwork was uppermost in my mind. It was creating so much pressure that I could hardly breathe. My head felt heavy, and I just wanted to lean back and take a nap.
Suddenly some of what mom was saying slipped into my ears.
"Her son can no longer do what others do. Since he was diagnosed with a debilitating disease in his 18th year, he has not been able to get out of bed. That was 38 years ago."
Had I heard that correctly? Did she really say "38 years ago"?
"How old is her son?", I asked.
"He's 56 years old."
I did some quick mental arithmetic...."Did she tell you how old she is?"
"She's 88."
"Are you saying", I asked incredulously, "that she has been caring for her invalid son all alone - at home - for 38 years?"
"That's right."
All the people in the car were shocked to hear my mom's words. I sat in the seat with my head in my hands quietly wondering what we would see when we arrived.
My first impression of the house was that it was really beautiful. Constructed as a quadrangle, two poplar trees stood on one side of the yard, and some light yellow flowers waved between ornamental grasses. Mrs. Wang, a small and wiry woman who graciously greeted us, seemed years younger than 88.
We walked past a tidy living room to her son's bedroom at the back of the quadrangle. Beyond the ruffled curtains bordering the windows, I saw some pink-colored peach blossoms.
Her son - in reality an old man - lay on a bed with the covers pulled up to his neck and his head resting on a pillow. Though his eyes were open, they appeared a little dull.
"My boy", Mrs.Wang said while touching him gently ont the shoulder, "we have some guests."
The man lifted his head and one shoulder slightly in what I was to learn was the limit that he could maneuver his body, and then he fell back peacefully onto his pillow and his bed.
Mrs. Wang led us into the yard where she told us of her struggle in caring for her son since her husband had died 30 years ago. "My friends urged me to give up and institutionalize him", she said, "but I refused. I just didn't think anyone else could take care of him as well as I could."
"What dedication!", I thought to myself. "She has been completely selfless over a very long period of time."
Mother asked Mrs. Wang what we could do for her, and to my surprise she said, "You came to visit us. That has made us very happy. That's enough."
When we left her home and got in the car, I found myself staring straight ahead, and I suddenly felt the problem of unfinished homework shrink in importance. Over the years, Mrs. Wang must have often felt overwhelmed, frustrated and even exhausted, but she has held on and has shown all of us her unusual inner qualities.
A mother's love is selfless, persistent, and unconditional.