"When I was little, my mum cradled me tightly. In her eyes, I was always tiny, soft, and fragile. It seemed that if she loosed her grip slightly, I'd be blown away.
Though it was comfortable to stay in her embrace, I always dreamed of growing up speedily, and the symbol of being grown-up was not to be in her arms anymore. When I was a teenager, mum often tried to hold me back, while I tried to escape.
But changes took place quietly. As the years passed, I felt mum was getting old. It was time for me to support her. Then one day, I put my hand around mum's shoulders and held her tenderly. She just stood there and smiled.
I left home when I was 18. I gave mum a good hug then walked into my university without looking back. Tears filled my eyes, hers as well.
Then we were fifteen hundred kilometres apart. We only told happy news, hid our emotions. When I went back home, I felt a distance between us. I was no longer her little baby, but a respected adult.
Now I am on one side of the world and she is on the other. Mum is always spirited in the phone calls but I know she weeps after putting down the receiver. I realize that she has been preparing to set me free since the afternoon I learned how to walk. She just wouldn't let me know, it was so painful to take me out of her arms. "