[Life] Three years old! Walk thirteen miles of mountain road!Author: JEFFI CHAO HUI WU Time: 2025-7-07 Monday, 3:19 PM ········································ [Life] Three years old! Walk thirteen miles of mountain road! There is a memory that I have never forgotten. At that time, I was about three years old, living in a remote mountain village surrounded by mountains, and we had to walk to get in and out. That day, my mother was feeling very unwell, her face pale and she didn't say much. I remember she sat by the bed all day, wiping sweat with a handkerchief, moving slowly and breathing a bit heavily. The mountain village has no doctors, no pharmacies, and even less fever-reducing medicine. She dragged on for a day, feeling increasingly unwell. In the evening, she finally made a decision: to go to the county town to see a doctor. The county town is thirteen miles away over the mountain road. It was already dark, and Dad was not around. There was no phone at home, and no one to help. She thought for a moment and realized she couldn't leave me alone at home, so she had no choice but to take me with her. I remember her squatting down to look at me, gently saying, "Hui'er, let's go find a doctor." Her voice was calm, but I knew she was gritting her teeth and holding on. She wrapped herself tightly in her apron, picked up the old flashlight that had long seen better days, shone it on the road, and then turned back to take my hand. We have set off. The mountain road at night was pitch black, with only the weak flashlight in her hand flickering light, illuminating the stone path a few steps ahead. Surrounding us was darkness, occasionally pierced by the sound of insects chirping. I remember that night the wind was particularly cold, cutting against my face like a knife. My mother held my hand with one hand and gripped the flashlight with the other as we walked forward step by step. I don't remember how long we walked. I spoke for the first time and said, "Mom, I'm tired." That was the only complaint I made that night. She didn't say anything, stopped in her tracks, squatted down to pat my head, and looked at my shoes, saying, "Just a little longer, and we'll be there." I don't know how far "just arrived" is, but I didn't cry or act spoiled. I just kept following her. Later, we sat down by a big rock; she took off her coat and wrapped it around my legs, saying the wind was too strong and I shouldn't get cold. She sat in the wind herself, her lips a bit pale, but said nothing. That night, the sky was particularly dark. I remember a stretch of road where I could see a few clusters of blue-purple lights in the valley from a distance, like floating fire points. At that time, I didn't know what they were, but I felt very scared. She glanced at them, said nothing, and just held my hand a little tighter. I didn't cry or make a fuss. I just walked with my head down, following her side. She is already very weak, I can feel it. Her hands are getting colder and her steps are slowing down, but she has never stopped. I don't know what she is afraid of, but she seems more afraid of collapsing and leaving me behind in the mountains. We walked on like this, continuously. The night grew deeper, and the wind became stronger. At every uphill and downhill stretch, I held her hand tightly. A few times, her legs wobbled, and she almost fell, but she managed to hold on. She said nothing, didn’t complain, and even kept her breathing very light, afraid of startling me. Finally, a glimmer of light appeared on the horizon. I remember that moment very clearly. She stopped and looked at the outline ahead, her eyes a bit moist. I couldn't tell if it was dawn approaching or if she was utterly exhausted. I looked at her, and she turned back to smile at me, saying, "Hui'er, we're almost there." She has been walking all night, her physical limits long since surpassed. I know she is hungry, thirsty, cold, and has a fever, but she hasn't stopped for a moment. She just holds my hand, pulls me along, and walks step by step. When we walked into the county town, the sky had just brightened. The streets were still very quiet, and there was a faint smell of cooking smoke in the air. Mom finally stopped in front of a clinic that hadn't opened yet, squatted down, and held me tightly. At that moment, she didn't say a word; she just leaned her head against my forehead, breathing softly. Her forehead was still hot, and her body was almost trembling, but her embrace was very warm. I could hear her heart beating fast and heavy. She gently called out, "Hui'er..." I leaned in her arms, not saying a word. At that moment, I felt no fear, just a deep calm. I didn't know if that was what they called "a sense of security," but I knew we had made it through. After that night, my mom kept telling others about it. She said I was particularly sensible, not crying or making a fuss the whole way. She said that she could hardly move that night, but just thinking of me by her side made her push through. She also said that it was a night road she would never forget in her life. But she doesn't know that I have never forgotten either. I remember her squatting on the stone to keep me warm, I remember the tone in which she said "We're almost there," I remember the light from her flashlight shaking, I remember her hand getting colder and colder. I also remember that I didn't cry. Not because I was strong, but because I knew she needed me to quietly walk this path to the end. Many years later, I have gone through many difficulties and walked many "mountain paths in the dark night." But I always remember that night when I was three years old, she was sick, and we walked thirteen miles in the night. She walks ahead, and I walk beside her, not missing a step. After that night, my childhood was no longer the same. Mom often said later: That is, relying on each other for life! Who Can Depend on Each Other (The poem I wrote years later) Accompanying my mother to the countryside, our fates intertwined. Seeking medical help in the wild, especially at night. Enduring hunger and thirst for thirteen miles Three years of asceticism, tears have not fallen. Source: https://www.australianwinner.com/AuWinner/viewtopic.php?t=696737 |