写在前面的话： 

  今年是红花四十八大寿，本命年。今年，我身边的人都忙碌不在身边，尤其是两个孩子，都走进了大学，而我本人也正式进入女人的所谓“空巢期”。但是，今年的这个本来普普通通的生日，却让我这个女人过得格外有意义。早在三个月前的夏天，我回国参加同学高中三十年聚会，就有老同学为我提前三个月庆生。葡萄架下，月色皎洁，欢歌笑语，温馨满溢，让我感怀在心，却无言以表。如果不是顾念旧情，同学们又怎么会对我如此之好？

  在我的家，我一直教导孩子要心怀感恩。因为懂得感恩，才会知足，才会产生幸福感。感恩父母的养育之恩，是所有感恩的一种，是孩子必须学会做的功课，而且要养成习惯。每年孩子他爹过生日，我的生日，孩子们都被我要求写一封信，表达对父母的教养之爱。从前，是我要求孩子们写，这么多年走下来，孩子们渐渐养成了习惯，即使学业再忙，偶尔会有忘记，但只要我稍有暗示，两个孩子必心领神会，欣然答应。

  我们做父母的，为孩子付出的爱无条件。即使在过生日这一天，不奢礼物，不求贺卡，但是，写一封信表达心意，还是应该的，也是必须的。这是我给孩子们立的约。

  有些读者对我说：“你有必要这么夸张吗？好像别人都不过生日似的，又是闺蜜送花吃饭，又是朋友晚宴大餐，又是儿女写心表达爱，。。。是不是因为缺乏才要刻意炫耀呀？” 

  我当然是一笑了之。每一个人对待表达情感有各自不同的处理方式，你可以爱在心底口难开，我可以写成文字抒发出来，白菜萝卜各取所需。我是一个普通女人，生活平淡，一日三餐。但是，如何让平淡的生活冒出一点小浪花，则在我的心态。

  今年我的生日，孩子们依旧沿袭我们家有点“二”的作风。我呢，不管是孩子肉麻往他们的妈妈脸上贴金，还是好不避讳大书“我娘今天四十八”，我都满足接过。有点“二”，这才是遗传我的基因，当之无愧红花的娃嘛。

（请读者原谅，等我日后有时间再译成中文）

My mom is Forty-Eight

Written by K.C

  Forty eight. That’s a small number. Forty eight is only six more than forty two and twenty eight more than my age, twenty. Forty eight is twelve times four. This means this year, 2013, is the year of the snake. Forty eight has a nice sense of roundness and completeness to it. It is a multiple of one, two, three, four, six, eight, twelve, sixteen, twenty four, and forty eight. That’s quite a few factors to forty eight.

  My mom will probably get very upset at me for expounding on her age to such an extent. But with every year that passes by and every article that my mom wants me to write for her, my mom grows more and more into the matriarch that she was made to be.

  With forty eight years underneath her belt, two children in her care, one husband in her heart, and one God in her eyes, she inspires all who are graced with her presence.

By bearing up her home and fighting for the stirring of love, hard work, and wisdom in her children, she has shown me what kind of woman I want to wed someday.

By working hard and loving her husband and friends well, she has shown me what I wish all women would ultimately know as beautiful womanhood.

  This summer, I reread（重读） the book 《East of Eden》 by John Steinbeck.（约翰·斯坦贝克 － 美国当代作家） 

  In his novel, Steinbeck divulges from his main narrative to wonderfully show us his family and, specifically, his mother, Olive Hamilton. In Chapter Fourteen, an entire chapter is devoted to Olive Hamilton, and although the entirety of East of Eden as a whole is magnificent, the chapter alone on Olive Hamilton made me smile, cry, and love.

  Olive Hamilton’s chapter is my favorite chapter. To me, it is the pinnacle of Steinbeck’s incredible ability to show the humanity of a single person and her effect on her household and children.

I really wish I could capture Olive Hamilton in a few paragraphs here, but that would not be sufficient. To all that wish to know Olive Hamilton, read Chapter Fourteen of East of Eden. My mother, in short, is to me as Olive Hamilton was to John Steinbeck. A majestic woman that was both fierce for and compassionate with her family and friends.

  A woman that would not compromise to dilapidation, apathy, or disillusionment, my mom knew what she wanted in her legacy and fought fervently for it. Often she would scream and kick at the difficulty and spend late nights working towards her ambitions, but she always achieved what she set out for. She would not bend for what she did not believe in. What she knows is right is therefore right, and she would not have it any other way unless God Himself told her. She had fears and weaknesses, but that only magnified her humanity and never once did those weaknesses detract from her excellence.

  My mom is a grand woman. I am happy to say that she is forty eight. That is a hefty amount of time for wisdom and strength to fill a person, but also a small enough amount of time that she can pour it all back out to the people she cares most about.

  Happy Birthday Mom. Forty eight is a beautiful age for a beautiful woman. 

2013年夏，意大利 － 维罗娜 － 罗密欧与朱丽叶的故乡