My mother's hands are small, but strong. They make my favorite meals when I'm back home- and I know they will always taste better because she made them. They give me relief when my legs are injured and in pain. My mother's hands are full of gifts. They deftly play Beethoven, Chopin, and Debussy on the grand piano. They are gentle and comforting around mine when we are both crying over the same Pixar movie.
My mother's words are fierce, but kind. She tells me that I need to find a man, to get married soon, to have children (while I roll my eyes). She reprimands me when she knows I can do better. But she tells me that she's proud of me when I feel like I've failed myself. She tells me she loves me in English, in Mandarin, and through the copious use of LINE emojis.
My mother's heart is just a human heart, but its capacity to love knows no bounds. Her generosity and self-sacrifice are ever prevailing- often times, to her own detriment. Her patience with me is limitless, though I am often impatient with her. She would give everything to me, and expect nothing in return.
Happy Mother's Day to my mother, my rock, my guiding star.
Iris Hsu, Co-founder