An Awakening

I was travelling with my friend in Jeju, South Korea, when a message from my mom popped up, “I am now at the hospital.”

My heart dropped immediately. Tons of thoughts crossed my mind. “What happened? Was there an accident? Is she okay? Should I take the earliest flight back to Hong Kong? Will I lose my mom forever?”All these thoughts disappeared at the moment she sent me another message: “I fell accidentally and broke my arm.”

As soon as the plane landed in Hong Kong, I rushed to the hospital to see her. In the ward, monitors were beeping rhythmically, and nurses flitting around. I looked for my mom inside the ward and found her in the corner, her figure seemed thinner than a stick. There she was, lying on the bed, taking rest after she had had a surgery. Seeing her, I could finally relax. My mom started interrogating me with endless questions:

“Did you enjoy your trip in Jeju?”

“How is the weather outside? Is it any cooler?”

“Did you bring me some fruits?”

“How is work?”

She asked all these questions in one go, like a little girl curious about everything outside the ward. I answered all her questions one by one while I was making sure the cabinet next to her bed was clean and tidy. 

I started visiting my mom every day. Once, the old lady next to my mother opened her cabinet, and the odour hit me in my face. I took a glimpse: inside the cabinet, there were only damp towels and a few brown, wrinkled, near-rotten apples. Mom later told me that they were from her daughter, who brought the grandma a few things and never visited again. Yet, the old lady refused to throw the apples away.

During her stay at the hospital, mom became incredibly clingy: she kept texting me; she asked for my schedule every day; she placed an order of things for me to bring; she sent pictures of her breakfast, lunch, and dinner… I knew that all of them were urging me to visit on time. Whenever I received these messages, I would smile and recall the days when I was in kindergarten, begging my mom to pick me up on time and reward me with snacks. 

I was amazed at how I had become a mother-figure, and my mom a vulnerable, needy little girl.

My mom has fully recovered, and we have become even closer. Secretly, I have made up my mind that I will never let my mom’s apples rot. No, not under my watch.