Telling with tears: loneliness of old Canadian immigrants

The first time I flew to Vancouver, I connected directly to his home through a friend. I met his wife and two daughters when I was a child. At lunchtime, there are four dishes of green seasonal vegetables on the table, surrounded by a big, red and fat shrimp. When fresh shrimps are wet and reflected in the village, the plates of seasonal vegetables are greener.

"We planted it ourselves-"said the daughter-in-law.

"Grandma fertilizes the fields with our perfection" Hee hee-"His big girl smiled while covering her mouth.

"I'm in China on business and want to grow vegetables from my mother. We never put monosodium glutamate in our house. You should eat more-"Following my friend's eyes, I noticed my mother in front of me.

She is nearly 70 years old, serene and honest, with a slightly bent back and a short figure. An old-fashioned bun put her sparse gray hair behind her head. She is wearing a big-breasted white cloth coat, but at her feet are a pair of worn-out Nike women's shoes. This head-to-tail contrast is a bit like in front of her glamorous son and daughter-in-law: "This is the distance before and after liberation!" (Please forgive me for this metaphor)

"Mom, you also eat!" I said to her.

She was absorbed in our conversation and responded immediately, leaning over and lifting the floor curtain behind her. "Wow!" I saw that their backyard was full of all kinds of vegetables, and long and round vines hung on a frame with flowers and leaves. How beautiful!

"I seem to see the frost and tender thorns on the melon, thin. Is that the cucumber we ate?" I'm a little excited. What makes me sigh even more is that the rows of loofah racks, cucumber racks and pumpkin racks are all scattered and orderly, and the vegetable gardens are all combed by her. The afternoon sun shines deeply and shallowly, and there is no shadow between plants. They thrive in photosynthesis.

"The vegetable garden is better than the flower garden, extraordinary and unique." I am in awe of my mother in front of me!

After dinner, I visited the front and back of his house, surrounded by colorful flowers. I don't even know their scientific names. These scientific names are only local. Two girls, like two flowers, are flying with the color of a large piece of flowers! The most energetic thing is the pigtails on their heads. They jump with the flow of children and fly like colorful flags, which makes my eyes full of expectation.

The knitting machine lists the hair bands, hairpins and hair bands of Chinese and foreign symbols on the heads of two girls. Older girls comb Xinjiang girls' heads, and dozens of braids are all flowers. The little girl combs the braids of southern girls, braids them on the left and right foreheads, and then puts them together at the back of the head.

Romantic girl's romantic head: "This comb is a masterpiece. How early does their mother have to get up to finish such a big workload? " This is my sigh when I first arrived, and now I finally understand that it is grandma who refurbishes the heads of her two granddaughters with her hands serving the vegetable garden every day. This is the big "mom is special!" " "Matt" is a compliment my daughter often gives me when she is impressed by my originality. At that moment, I seemed to have returned to my childhood village and my hometown where my mother and I grew vegetables together. How do you feel in Vancouver? ! How can this be Canada in a foreign country? !

In a trance, my mother has put the watermelon on the table. I feel that she is always moving and in a hurry.

"Mom, what a clever hand you have!" I looked at her and said. Who knows, she doesn't even understand Mandarin. She understood my admiring eyes, dialed a few times in the fruit bowl and picked a seedless melon slice and handed it to me. "This grandmother doesn't like to talk" is the deepest impression she left me.

Because I want to eat her food from time to time, I often accept their invitations. More contact, more understanding. Every time we entertain guests or go out to play, we want to invite her along. However, none of our friends turned us down because of her motion sickness.

Once we went to her house, she wasn't there, so we called my friend. He said positively, "You will find her by the pond in the Woods." "There are towering shrubs everywhere. Where can there be ponds?" Just as I was getting more and more scared, suddenly with a splash, I saw a quiet small pond, with ripples of "bang, bang, bang", and then "bang", stone by stone, and the wilderness was teased by the man who bombed Shui Piao with stones. "Ha ha ha-big mom! Why do you still have this unique skill? "

I was shocked! I laughed till I burst into tears, and then I realized the bitterness of these tears. A stone stirs up a thousand waves, not a thousand waves!

Mother's loneliness is unprecedented. She doesn't know any language outside her hometown, and the southern dialect is very regional. What she said is hard for China people to understand, what's more, she has no neighbors. Her two granddaughters don't understand her dialect, but they are used to speaking English and can't communicate with her.

(They were all born in Vancouver)

She doesn't speak a word of English, but all she can watch is English TV. She doesn't let the Chinese channel land at home because she is afraid that she will concentrate on watching TV and ignore the children. Only his son can talk to her at home. However, his son is too busy (sincere to others, often embarrassed by other people, disturbed by chores that come to your door, not to mention the two daughters' love for their father is particularly strong, and he has to do everything). Granddaughter is cared for by everyone, son is divided by everyone, but mother is greatly ignored, ignored in her silent silence. She is a machine that never slackens, uses wear and tear as energy consumption, and sticks to it silently. Because of her love for her son, she will never walk out of the end of love. She said less and less until she nodded and shook her head to express her feelings. "She is in prison for her son's deep affection!" This is my superfluous words.

I just walked through her water town today, and the willows by the pond withered and turned green again. Year after year, whenever I pass by the pond, I can't help bending down to pick up stones-I look forward to a "diving" competition with my quiet mother when I go to Vancouver again one day. I hope that the folk game of "Drifting Water" can become a competitive game in Vancouver, and "Mama Te" is the ever-victorious general in the elderly group. I hope that one day she will return to China with the championship trophy. I pray that all the contestants will lose to her forever.