The summer vacation has begun. At the crowded high-speed rail station, I carried all the luggage on my shoulders. I was accompanying my parents and children on the train back home.
The high-speed rail station was full of children returning to their hometowns to visit relatives during the summer vacation. Some were taken by grandparents, some were taken by parents, and there were also travel agencies organizing summer camps or study tours for the pupils. The noise of children was everywhere.
I’ve been to train stations countless times in the past few decades. At any time, at any train station, I seem to be carrying a thick bag with all kinds of emotions which are so heavy that, no matter how the appearance of the train changes, no matter how the speed of the train increases, there is always nowhere to put my emotional baggage.
I stood on the platform, and watched them board the train. My heart was at ease at that moment, but the emotions that followed were mixed — such as reluctance, worry, and concern.
When I was young, I never saw a train. It was not until I was 18 that I had to leave my hometown and go to another very distant city. I got the opportunity to take the train, which in those times were still very slow.
When I was young, I had a dream, which was to become a literate person and to write many famous articles. I thought that the articles should be printed officially, and that my name should appear under the title of the articles.
When I was in elementary school, I often tried to mail my articles to the call centers of various magazines, but always failed. With no response time after time, I gave up.
Although I still love writing, I no longer care about whether my work will be published, because it seems to be an impossible task.
I am not obsessed with writing, I just regard it as a hobby, and have no specific goals. My life goals are still very superficial: just to live and live well, which is not particularly special in the eyes of others.
As a person who came from a rural area, I can now live and work in the city, have my parents and children by my side, give my children a good education. That’s already an amazing achievement.
Thinking about my father’s generation, they were farmers with nothing.
When my mother was young, she worked the land all day and every day. She never seemed to have any ambitions for her future. Her only simple wish was to raise her children and provide them with a bright future.
My mother thought that after she raised me, she would be free.
She must have never imagined that when she got old, she would continue to take care of children, my children.
If I’m going to keep my job, I don’t have time to take care of the kids. If my mother wants me to have a job, she needs to come and babysit for me. Otherwise, I can’t have the bright future she wants me to have.
Depending on my mother
I used to naively think that when I grew up, I would no longer need my mother’s support. Unexpectedly, for most of my life, I have been a person who depends on her mother.
But even if she doesn’t come to take care of my children, she will live alone in a rural area, and we can’t go back to visit her often.
She will become one of the “empty-nesters” living in the countryside who actually seem to be lonelier and more helpless than those who take care of their grandchildren in the city.
Alas, thinking about it in this way makes me feel a little less guilty. Maybe life is like this, and no matter what, it will make people feel at a loss.
I think my ideal at this moment is to be able to work hard like my mother, balance the relationship between family and work, and then have more time to spend with my children and help them get a bright future.
I firmly believe that the most important education comes from within the family, and the mother will always be the teacher who plays the biggest role.
The train departed, and everyone on the platform was gone. The bustling platform returned to calm in less than 10 minutes.
I looked in the direction where the train was slowly leaving — the same direction from where I came, where my emotional baggage is stored.
“Take care of yourself!” I yelled from a distance.