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Return To ShopMom, I’m Home: A Touching Short Emotional Story
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one
Li Jianguo was known as a sensible child in the village since he was a child.
His family lived in a small village in the mountainous area of southern Sichuan, nestled against green mountains and facing a muddy river. His mother, Xu Cuilan, raised him single-handedly. When he was three years old, his husband was injured in a work accident and became disabled. After that, the family relied entirely on this woman to support them.
Xu Cuilan was a woman of few words, but incredibly diligent. She would get up before dawn, feed the pigs and then the chickens, before going to the vegetable garden to pick some scallions to stir-fry with rice. Every morning when Li Jianguo opened his eyes, the kitchen was already filled with the aroma of scallions. He would get dressed and sit at the table, his mother would bring in a bowl, place it in front of him, and say, ” Eat, you’ll be late. “
This is the most common communication between the mother and son.
Li Jianguo was a good student, ranking first in his class every year. His teacher stopped his mother and said that this child had a knack for studying and would be successful in the future. His mother smiled, lowered her head, wiped her hands on her apron, and said, ” Then we’ll have to rely on you. “
When she got home, she told Jianguo, “You must study hard, our family is counting on you.”
Jian Guo knew his family was poor, so he never spent money recklessly. He survived three years of high school on scholarships and rarely even went to classmate gatherings. Later, he was admitted to a university in the provincial capital, becoming the second college student from his village. The first one, it is said, never returned after leaving.
On the day he went to university, his mother stuffed the only five hundred yuan in the house into his hands, saying that it was what she had saved for two years. Jianguo held the crumpled stack of bills, his hands trembling violently. He said, “Mom, I don’t want it.” His mother said, “I’ll feel uneasy if you don’t take it.”
He took it, got on the car, and didn’t look back.
Because he knew that if he turned back, he wouldn’t be able to leave.
two
After graduating from university, Jian Guo stayed in the provincial capital.
At first, finding a job was difficult; he did all sorts of jobs, from construction sites and warehouses to restaurant waiters. Later, he met a fellow villager who introduced him to a sales position at a building materials company, and he slowly started earning an income. He worked very hard, getting up at six every morning to make phone calls to attract customers, and not returning to his rented room until eleven or twelve at night, where he would wash his face and go straight to sleep.
At first, he called home every week. His mother didn’t talk much. She would ask him if he had eaten, if he was cold, and if he had a girlfriend. He would say he was fine, and his mother would say that was good.
After hanging up the phone, Jianguo stared at the ceiling of his rented room, feeling a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite describe.
Gradually, the phone calls decreased, from once a week to twice a month, and from twice a month to once a month. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but he was busy, tired, and sometimes he didn’t know what to say when he picked up the phone. It was the same with his mother; she never complained, just asked if he had eaten. He always felt that once he earned money and was settled, everything would be easier to discuss.
Three years later, he bought a small apartment in the provincial capital with a mortgage. The monthly loan payments were a significant burden, but he felt it was worth it. After buying the apartment, he thought about bringing his mother to live with him so she could enjoy a few days of comfort. He called home excitedly and said, “Mom, come over!” His mother declined, saying she was used to living in the village and wouldn’t know anyone in the area. She also mentioned that his father had difficulty walking and that there was no one to feed the pigs and chickens.
Jianguo said they could sell it, but his mother said no.
He didn’t quite understand at the time, muttered a few words to himself, and didn’t insist any further.
Later, he met his current wife, Chen Xiaoli, and after dating for two years, they got married. When they returned to his hometown for the wedding, his mother came out to greet him from the village entrance with a big smile on her face. But when Jianguo looked at her, he was shocked — he didn’t know when, but his mother’s hair had turned completely white, her back was hunched, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes were as deep as if they had been carved by a knife.
The mother in his memory was the woman who stood in front of the stove every morning frying scallions, with thick, black hair.
He choked up for a moment, then called out “Mom!” His mother smiled and said, “Coming, coming! Come in, the food’s all warm.”
After the wedding banquet, he stayed at home for three days before leaving. Chen Xiaoli had to go to work, and he also had projects to finish. Before he left, his mother gave him a bag of cured meat. He said, “Mom, don’t take so much.” His mother said, “It’s not heavy, just a few pounds. You can’t buy this kind of flavor in the city.”
That was the last time he spent the night at home.
three
The accident happened last winter.
Jianguo was negotiating a contract with a major client when his phone rang. It was a neighbor from the village, an older woman. Thinking it was nothing serious, he waved for the client to wait and went outside to answer the call.
The aunt said on the phone, “Jianguo, your mother is hospitalized in the county hospital. They say she had a cerebral infarction.”
Jianguo’s mind went blank for a moment. Without thinking clearly, he said, “I understand,” and hung up the phone.
He went back to the client, who was still waiting, the contract still lying on the table. He sat in the chair for a full two minutes, then stood up and said, “I’m sorry, something happened at home, I can’t talk today, let’s reschedule.” He then picked up his bag and left, the client calling after him, but he didn’t turn around.
On the way, he called his dad while driving. His dad said that his mom suddenly complained of a headache in the morning and then swayed as she walked. He was so scared that he quickly called a neighbor to take her to the hospital. The doctor said that it was a cerebral infarction and that she needed to have surgery as soon as possible. He asked a family member to sign the consent form, but his dad said that his hands were shaking and he couldn’t sign properly, so the neighbor helped him sign.
As Jian Guo stepped on the gas, he felt like he was floating.
He drove for four hours straight, and by the time he rushed into the hospital, his mother had already been wheeled out of the operating room.
Lying in the hospital bed, his mother looked even smaller than he remembered. An IV was stuck in the back of her hand, her face was sallow, and her mouth was slightly crooked. The doctor said the surgery was timely and there were no major problems, but some aftereffects were inevitable; her speech might be slurred, and her hands and feet might be somewhat clumsy, requiring rehabilitation training.
Jianguo sat down by the hospital bed, held his mother’s hand, and called out, “Mom.”
His mother slowly opened her eyes, her lips moved, and she squeezed out each word, one by one: ” You … have come …”
Jian Guo said, “I’ve arrived.”
He buried his face in his mother’s hands, and tears streamed down his face uncontrollably.
He suddenly remembered what his mother’s last birthday was and whether he had called home in the past few years — he thought for a long time but couldn’t remember.
He couldn’t remember.
Four
Since then, the nation has changed.
He brought his mother from his hometown to the provincial capital and settled her in his home. His father couldn’t refuse, so he came along too. With two more elderly people in the house, the small apartment felt a bit cramped, but Jianguo felt it was worth it.
His mother goes to the hospital for rehabilitation every morning, and Jianguo personally takes her there unless he’s away on a business trip. Taking the bus requires two transfers, and since his mother’s legs aren’t very strong, he helps her walk slowly. His mother tells him to go ahead and do his work, that she can manage, but he says it’s alright, he has nothing to do today.
Actually, he had something to do and canceled all the meetings in the morning.
He started learning to make scrambled eggs with scallions because his mother said she wanted to eat it, but she didn’t have the strength to control the pan. The first time he made it, he didn’t get the heat right and it burned. His mother sat beside him, laughing, and said it was okay, just eat it. Jianguo tasted it; it was bitter. He said, “Mom, don’t eat this.” His mother said it was fine.
Jianguo threw away the plate of eggs and made a new one, which turned out much better.
His mother took two big bites and said it was delicious, but that there should be more scallions.
Jianguo remembered these words, and from then on, he always added extra scallions when making scallion and egg stir-fry.
One evening, his mother sat beside him on the balcony, overlooking the bustling night view of the provincial capital, the neon lights turning the sky orange-red. His mother said, “Jianguo, when you were little, my biggest fear every morning was that you’d be late, so I’d get up before dawn to cook.” Jianguo said, “I know, I remember.” His mother said, “Do you know, back then, after you finished eating and went out, I’d stand at the door watching you until you reached the corner and disappeared from sight before I went back inside.”
Jianguo paused for a moment and said, “Mom, you never told me this.”
His mother said, “What’s there to say? It’s just what a mother should do.”
Jianguo didn’t say anything, but lowered his head and placed his hand on his mother’s knee, gently covering it.
The street outside the window was bustling with people and brightly lit, a lively scene. But he felt that the best moment of his life was right now, sitting here, listening to his mother tell those old stories.
He asked himself if he could have stayed with her like this a few years earlier.
There is no answer.
Some things, once missed, are missed forever; there are no “what ifs”.
But some things can still be done. His mother is still alive, his father is still alive, and there’s still a long way to go.
He thought that even if he made just one more phone call or came back one more time in the future, it would be good.
He took out his phone and set a fixed monthly reminder : ” Call home . “
Then he raised his head and looked at the endless lights in the distance. Something slowly loosened in his heart, and something slowly filled in.
He wanted to say: Mom, I’m back. This time, I’m really back.
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