The Eternal Sunny Place

By Qiao Ye

On a spring afternoon, I came home from work for lunch. Seeing my mother was airing her quilts, I was inspired to air my own.

I carried my quilts out in my arms, and aired them at the ends of the clothesline. After lunch, I went to work directly.

When I came back in the late afternoon and stepped into the doorway, I was greeted by my quilts still hanging there. However, they were in a different place than they were at noon—they had been moved to the sunniest place. The snowwhite linings of the quilts were gently gilded by the setting sun while my mother’s quilts were hanging dully and solitarily at the ends of the clothesline. On them, the shadows of the house were drawing their tedious and inerratic geometric patterns.

Walking in front of my quilts, I stroked them. They felt warm.

They were warm indeed, as warm as mother’s palms.

I also touched my mother’s quilts. They felt cool.

They were cool indeed, as cool as the back of Mother’s hand.

All of a sudden, a stream of bygone scenes floated before my eyes: the bed-sheet with thefinest quality in my home, the room in the best position, the potted flower in its lovely bloom, the most delicious dishes, and even the bowl printed with the most delicate patterns—all these were mine, just as the sunny spot where I stood.

I know that all these scenes were prepared intentionally by my mother, not just a coincidence.

In one’s short yet long life, it might be your friends who can give you joy; it might be your lover who can make you happy;and it might be your career that can enrich you. However, it must be your mother who makes you warm and cozy. With the backs of her hands, she shelters you from hardships as much as possible;with her warm palms, she keeps shining on you.

Mother is the eternal sunny place.

春季的一个中午，我下班回到了家里，看到母亲正在晒被子，便也想把被子晒一下。

我把被子抱出来，晒在了晾衣绳的两端。吃过午饭，我便上班去了。

下班回来，我一进家门，便看到了我的被子。与中午不同的是，它们已经被晒在了阳光最好的地带，夕阳将雪白的被里镀上了一层浅浅的金色。而母亲的被子却寂寞地待在晾衣绳的两端，房屋的阴影默默地在它们身上画着单调而规则的几何图形。

我走到自己的被子面前，用手抚摸了一下，它们是温暖的。

它们当然是温暖的，温暖得如母亲的手心。

我又抚摸了一下母亲的被子，它们是清凉的。

它们当然是清凉的，清凉如母亲的手背。

我的眼前忽然呈现出了往昔的许多情节：家里质地最好的那条床单，方位最佳的那个房间，开得最漂亮的那盆鲜花，做得最好吃的那盘菜，甚至吃饭时图案最精致的那只碗……这些事物如我身处的这段阳光地带一样，都是我的。

我知道，对母亲来说，这些情节不是偶然。

在人生短暂而漫长的征途上，给你快乐的也许是你的朋友，让你美丽的也许是你的爱人，令你充实的也许是你的事业。但使你温暖的必定是你的母亲。她用自己的手背尽可能多地为你阻挡着风霜，她用自己的手心为你释放着绵绵不绝的温暖阳光。

母亲是永远的阳光地带。