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You are invited to explore the 100-year history of Chinese Students at the University of Washington, 1905-2005. Experience their personal stories and learn the cultural exchange between America and China through their lives.
Subject: 謹以此文獻給像我一樣流浪在外的子女們
遊蕩了這麼多年，從東到西，又從北到南，一年又一年，我在長大，知識在增加，世界在變小，家鄉的母親在變老。
二十一年前母親把我送上了火車，從那以後，我一刻也沒有停止探索這個世界，二十年裡，從北京到上海，從廣州到香港，從紐約到華盛頓，從南美到南非，從倫敦到雪梨，我遊蕩過五十多個國家，在十幾個城市生活和工作過。每到一個地方，從裡到外，就得改變自己以適應新的環境，而唯一不變的是心中對母親的思念。IP電話卡出現後，我才有能力常常從國外給母親打電話，電話中母親興奮不已的聲音總能讓我更加輕鬆地面對生活中的艱難和挑戰。然而也有讓我不安的地方，那就是我感覺到母親的聲音一次比一次蒼老。過去兩年裡，母親每次電話中總是反覆叮囑：好好再外面生活，不要擔心我，一定要照顧好自己，不要想著回來，回來很花錢，又對你的工作和事業不好，不要想著我……說得越來越囉嗦，囉嗦得讓我心疼，我知道，母親想我了。
母親今年七十五歲。
我毅然決定放下手頭的一切工作，擱下心裡的一切計劃，扣下腦袋裡的一切想法，回國回家去陪伴母親一個月。這一個月裡，什麼也不幹，什麼也不想，只是陪伴母親。
從我打電話告訴母親的那一天開始到我回到家，有兩個月零八天，後來我知道，母親放下電話後，就拿出一個小本本，然後給自己擬定了一個計劃，她要為我回家做準備。那兩個月裡母親把我喜歡吃的菜都準備好，把我小時候喜歡蓋的被子「筒」 好，還要為我準備在家裡穿的衣服……這一切對於一個行動不方便的，患有輕微老年癡呆症的75歲的母親來說是多麼的不容易，你肯定無法體會。直到我回去的前一天，母親才自豪地告訴鄰居：總算準備好了。
我回到了家。在飛機上，我很想見到母親的時候擁抱她一下，但見面後我並沒有這樣做。母親站在那裡，像一隻風乾的劈柴，臉上的皺紋讓我怎麼也想不起以前母親的樣子。
母親花了整個整個的小時準備菜，她準備的都是我以前最喜歡的。但是我知道，我早就不再喜歡我以前喜歡的菜。而且母親由於眼睛看不清，味覺的變化，做的菜都是鹹一碗，淡一碗的。母親為我準備的被子是新棉花墊的，厚厚的像席夢思，我一點也不習慣，我早就用空調被子和羊毛被了。但我都沒有說出來。我是回來陪伴母親的。
開始兩天母親忙找張羅來張羅去，沒有時間坐下來，後來有時間坐下來了，母親就開始囉嗦了。母親開始給我講人生的大道理，只是這些大道理是幾十年前母親反覆講過的。後來母親還講，而且開始對照這些道理來檢討我的生活和工作。於是我開始耐心地告訴媽媽，那些道理過時了。於是母親就會癡呆呆地坐在那裡。
情況變得越來越糟糕。我發現母親由於身體特別是眼睛不好，做飯時不講衛生，飯菜裡經常混進蟲子蒼蠅，飯菜掉在灶台上，她又會撿進碗裡，於是我婉轉地告訴母親，我們到外面吃一點。母親馬上告訴我，外面吃不乾淨，假東西多。我又告訴母親，想為她請一個保姆，母親生氣地一拐一拐在房間裡辟啪辟啪地走，說她自己還可以去給人家當保姆。我無話可說。我要去逛街，母親一定要去，結果我們一個上午都沒有走到商場。
每當我們討論一些事情的時候，母親總以為兒子已經誤入歧途，而我也開始不客氣地告訴母親，時代進步了，不要再用老眼光看東西。
和母親在一起的下半個月，我越來越多地打斷母親的話，越來越多的感到不耐煩，但我們從來沒有爭吵，因為每當我提高聲音或者打斷母親的話，她都一下子停下來，沉默不語，眼睛裡有迷茫——母親的老年癡呆症越來越嚴重了。
我要走前，母親從床底下吃力地拉出一個小紙箱，打開來，取出厚厚的一疊剪報。原來我出國後，母親開始關心國外的事情，為此他還專門訂了份《參考消息》，每當她看到國外發生的一些排華辱華事件，又或者出現嚴重的治安問題，她就會小心地把它們剪下來，放好。她要等我回來，一起交給我。她常常說，出門在外，要小心。幾天前鄰居告訴我，母親在家看一曲日本人欺負中國華人的電視劇，在家哭了起來，第二天到處打聽怎麼樣子才能帶消息到日本。那時我正在日本講學。
母親吃力地把那捆剪報搬出來，好像寶貝一樣交到我手裡，沉甸甸的，我為難了，我不可能帶這些走，何況這些也沒有什麼用處，可是母親剪這些資料下來的艱難也只有我知道，母親看報必須使用放大鏡，她一天可以看完兩個版面就不錯了，要剪這麼大一捆資料，可想而知。我正在為難，這時那一捆剪報裡飄落下一片紙片。我想去撿起來，沒有想到，母親竟然先撿了起來。只是她並沒有放進我手裡的這捆剪報裡，而是小心地收進了自己的口袋。
「媽媽，那一張剪報是什麼？給我看一下。」我問。
母親猶豫了一下，把那張小剪報放在那一疊剪報上面，轉身到廚房準備晚餐去了。
我拿起小剪報，發現是一篇小文章，題目是「當我老了」，旁邊的日期是《參考消息》2004年12月6日（正是我開始越來越多打斷母親的話，對母親不耐煩的時候）。文章擇選自墨西哥《數字家庭》十一月號。我一口氣讀完這篇短文：
當我老了
當我老了，不再是原來的我。請理解我，對我有一點耐心。
當我把菜湯灑到自己的衣服上時，當我忘記怎樣繫鞋帶時，請想一想當初我是如何手把手地教你。
當我一遍又一遍地重複你早已聽膩的話語，請耐心地聽我說，不要打斷我。你小的時候，我不得不重複那個講過千百遍的故事，直到你進入夢鄉。
當我需要你幫我洗澡時，請不要責備我。還記得小時候我千方百計哄你洗澡的情形嗎？
當我對新科技和新事物不知所措時，請不要嘲笑我。想一想當初我怎樣耐心地回答你的每一個「為什麼」。
當我由於雙腿疲勞而無法行走時，請伸出你年輕有力的手攙扶我。就像你小時候學習走路時，我扶你那樣。
當我忽然忘記我們談話的主題，請給我一些時間讓我回想。其實對我來說，談論什麼並不重要，只要你能在一旁聽我說，我就很滿足。
當你看著老去的我，請不要悲傷。理解我，支持我，就像你剛才開始學習如何生活時我對你那樣。當初我引導你走上人生路，如今請陪伴我走完最後的路。給我你的愛和耐心，我會抱以感激的微笑，這微笑中凝結著我對你無限的愛。
一口氣讀完，我差一點忍不住流下眼淚，這時母親走出來，我假裝什麼也沒有發生，母親原本是要我帶走後回到海外自己再看到這片剪報的。我隨手把那篇文章放在這一捆剪報裡。然後把我的箱子打開，我留下了一套昂貴的西裝，才把剪報塞進去。我看到母親特別高興，彷彿那些剪報是護身符，又彷彿我接受了母親的剪報，就又變成了一個好孩子。母親一直把我送上出租車。
那捆剪報真的沒有什麼用處，但那篇「當我老了」的小紙片從此以後會伴隨我……
現在這張小紙片就在我的書桌前，我把它鑲在了鏡框裡。現在我把這文章打印出來，與像我一樣的海外遊子共享。在新的一年將要到來的時候，給母親打個電話，告訴她你一直想吃她老人家做的小菜……
2004年12月28日
Having wandered for years from East to West, from North to South, year after year I am growing and my knowledge is increasing. The world is becoming smaller. Mom in my home village is growing older.
Twenty-one years ago, Mom saw me off on the train. Ever since then, I haven’t stopped to explore the world. In the twenty-one years, from Beijing to Shanghai, from Canton to Hong Kong, from New York to Washington, from South America to South Africa, from London to Sydney, I’ve wandered in over fifty countries. I have worked and lived in over a dozen cities. Every time I arrive at a new place, I change my entire being inside out to adapt to new surroundings. One thing that never changes is my memory of Mom. Once IP telephone cards appeared, I was able to call her often from overseas. On the phone, Mom’s excited voice would make it possible for me to lightheartedly face the difficulties in life and all its challenges. What worried me was the feeling that my Mom’s voice was becoming older and older. In the last two years, Mom always told me repeatedly to take good care of myself, not to worry about her, to live well abroad, not to think of going home to the village because that would cost too much money and that going back home would not be a good move for my job and my career, and not to miss her. She became more and more nagging, so nagging that my heart ached listening to her. I know Mom missed me.
Mom is seventy-five years old this year.
I decided to put aside what I was doing, and to postpone all plans; so as to be able to go home to keep Mom company for one month. I decided that within this one month at home, I was not going to do or think about anything else but to devote myself solely to be with Mom.
From the day I called to inform Mom of my homecoming decision to the day that I actually would be home was a period of 2 months and 8 days. Later I learned that as soon as Mom finished listening to my call, she took out her little book in which she wrote down a plan for all the preparation that she wanted to make for my return. In those two months, she would prepare all my favorite food, make a new duvet cover, and prepare some clothes for me to wear at home. All this work was no simple task for someone who could not move about easily and who suffered from mild Alzheimer’s disease. No one could or would appreciate all her efforts. Finally, the day before my return, Mom proudly announced to her neighbors that she had finished all the preparation.
I arrived home. On the plane, I thought when I saw my Mom I would give her a hug, but when we saw each other, I didn’t hug her. Mom stood there like a wind-dried piece of wood with wrinkles on her face which made it impossible for me to recall her former appearance.
Mom spent hours preparing food for me that I used to love before. But I knew I already didn’t like what I loved before. Moreover, Mom’s vision was blurry, and her sense of taste and smell had changed. The dishes she made were either too salty or too bland. Mom prepared the new duvet for me with new cotton. She stuffed in a lot of the cotton so the duvet was really thick which I was not used to. I had long switched over to electric blanket. But I didn’t say anything because I came home to be with Mom.
During the first two days of my visit, Mom was so busy doing things for me that she had no time to sit down. When she finally had time to sit down, she started to nag me. Mom started to tell me how to live with all her life theories. These theories were the same ones that she repeated over and over again for the last few decades. Later, Mom even started to use these life theories to evaluate my life and work. So I patiently told Mom that those theories were passé. Mom sat there quietly in a dazed manner.
Situations turned worse. I discovered that Mom didn’t have good eyesight. When she cooked, she wasn’t hygienic. In the rice and dishes, I found little bugs or flies. If rice fell in the cooking areas, she would pick up the rice and put it back into the bowl. I suggested to her gently that we could go out to eat. Mom immediately told me that food outside was not clean and fake food was plentiful. I told Mom that I would like to hire some housekeeping help for her. Mom got angry and limped away. She proceeded to inform me that she could be someone else’s housekeeper. I had nothing more to say and I wanted to go out. Mom wanted to come along with me, and finally we didn’t manage to go to the mall at all.
Every time we discussed a topic, Mom always thought I had gone astray on the wrong path. I became impatient and told her that times had changed and that she should not be judging everything with her old ways of thinking.
During the second half of my stay, I found I was constantly cutting off my Mom when she talked. I grew increasingly impatient with her. We never fought because every time I raised my voice to cut my Mom off, she would stop talking and remain silent. She would have this glaze over her eyes – Mom’s Alzheimer’s disease had become more and more serious.
Before I left, Mom struggled to drag a paper carton out from under the bed. She opened it to take out a thick wad of newspaper clippings. I discovered that Mom paid very close attention to what was happening outside China ever since I left home. She subscribed specifically to some reference publication. Every time she read about incidences of discrimination of overseas Chinese abroad, or if there’s any serious security problem, she would carefully cut out the newspaper article and put it away. She wanted to save these to give to me whenever I returned home. She always insisted that I must take very good care of myself when I was alone by myself abroad. Her neighbors told me that one time Mom saw on television some news about Japanese bullying Chinese, she started to cry. The next day, she asked the neighbor how the news could be brought to me in Japan where I was lecturing.
Mom took the carefully cut and tied up pile of newspaper clippings and handed the heavy bundle to me as if it’s the most important treasure. I was faced with a dilemma because I did not want to take this useless bundle of old newspaper clippings with me, and yet the difficult task she took on herself to cut these out could only be understood by me. I knew Mom had to use a magnifying glass to read the newspaper. In one day, she might possibly have read only two pages. To have collected this thick wad of newspaper clippings must have taken her a long, long time. This was really putting me on a spot. I could not possibly take this back with me. While I was thinking for a way out, a loose piece of paper fell out from the pile. I headed to retrieve it, but Mom picked it up first. However, she didn’t put this particular piece of paper back into my bundle. She carefully put it in her own pocket.
“Mom, what was on that piece of paper? Let me see.” I said.
Mom hesitated for a little while, then she put it on my pile of clippings. She then went into the kitchen to prepare dinner.
I picked up the little piece of paper and saw that on it was a poem entitled “When I Turn Old”, dated December 6, 2004 – the date that I started getting impatient with Mom and the date I started to cut her off mid-sentence whenever she started talking. The poem originated in Mexico from the November issue of Digital Family:
When I turn old, when I am not the original me:
Please understand me and have patience with me.
When I drip gravy all over my clothes, when I forget to tie my shoelaces:
Please remember how I taught you what not to do, and how to do many things by hand.
When I repeatedly tell you things that you’re tired of hearing:
Please be patient and listen to me. Please don’t interrupt me. When you were young, I told you the same story over and over again until you were sound asleep.
When I need you to help me bathe:
Please don’t scold me. Do you still remember how when you were small I had to coax you to take a bath?
When I don’t understand new technology:
Please don’t laugh at me or mock me. Please think how I used to be so patient with you to answer your every “Why”.
When my two legs are tired and I cannot walk anymore:
Please stretch out your powerful hands to lend me a hand, just like when you were a baby learning to walk I held both your hands.
When I suddenly forget what subject we are discussing:
Please give me a little time to recollect. Actually, it does not matter what we are talking about; as long as you are by my side, I am so contented and happy already.
When you see the old me, please don’t be sad:
Please understand me and support me, just like how I was with you when you were young and were just learning to face life. At the beginning, I guided you to the path of life. Now I ask you to keep me company to finish this last leg of my life. Give me your love and patience, I will give you a grateful smile, and crystallized in this smile is my endless love for you.
When I finished reading the poem, I was on the brink of tears. Mom walked out of the kitchen, I pretended nothing happened. Originally, Mom wanted me to read this poem after I had left. I put the poem on the thick pile of clippings. I opened my suitcase and took out an expensive suit to make room for this bundle of newspaper clippings. I saw that Mom was especially happy as if the newspaper bundle would guard me for life and as if I had returned to be the former good little child. She saw me all the way to the rental car.
That newspaper bundle was of no use, but the little piece of paper with the poem “When I Turn Old” would be with me from now on wherever I go.
This piece of paper is now on my desk in a frame. I want to publish this essay to share it with all overseas wandering sons and daughters. In this New Year before Chinese New Year, do call your Mom and tell her that you’ve been longing to eat her homemade dishes …
December 28, 2004