I came to Hawaii from a village in China when I was six. For a kid, Hawaii was great. Sun, beach, and lots of happy children running around. But my mom went from being a chemist to taking the bus everyday to the other side of Oahu, trying to find a job. I remember looking at friends, at their Barbies, and wondered why all I had in my backpack was a green notebook on sale earlier that week; ignoring the fact that it took my mom two weeks to earn enough money for it.
But that all changed one day in the 9th grade when I came home and found my mom crying because someone had threatened to fire her from her only employment of hand-sewing pieces of a sofa together. It was the first time I’d seen her cry and it broke my heart. I dropped my books and ran to her; some kind of raw, foreign, emotion I couldn’t even recognize swept through me. She looked up at me and said, “Sorry, I just got some dust in my eyes.” And that’s when I realized this dream of hers, for me to be given the opportunity to be happy, was for her, far more important than herself.
So yes, I realize I could write about the time when my mom and I got on the wrong flight and didn’t realize it until we were halfway around the country; or when she made me cookies after school and put salt instead of sugar, but then you wouldn’t really be getting a feel of who my mother really is. She's given up her happiness so that I would be given the opportunity to pursue my dreams, so I would be happy. And yet, despite the fact that she never complains, I see how she tears up from back-pain. She’s never set foot in a spa but I see how she eyes it from our window.
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen on this earth - she is the down-to-earth, natural, strong women that every daughter needs as an example in her life. And I think it’s about time she got some well-deserved recognition for it. Don’t you?
-Ke Chen, a sophomore at the University of Pennsylvania
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