五岁时,母亲就是你的一切。她养育你,照顾你,跟你做朋友,当你的倾听者。她是唯一一个你可以将期望、梦想、恐惧和愿望都毫无保留统统托付的人。母亲就是那个你跌倒擦伤膝盖时会跑去找的人,因为你知道她会在那里用一个拥抱为你减轻伤痛。她念书给你听,当她给你盖好被子时,你知道第二天清晨她就会在你身边,无论发生什么。然而对我来说,情况却不是这样。 At age five, mother is everything for you. She nurtures you, takes care of you, is your friend, your listener. She is the only one who can deliver expectations, dreams, fears, and desires without reservation. The mother is the one who ran when you fell and rubbed your knees, because you knew she’d be there to relieve the pain with a hug. She reads to you, and when she covers your quilt, you know she’ll be with you by the very next morning, no matter what happens. However, for me, this is not the case.