When Mother came to Guangzhou for eye surgery, my elder sister took night shifts; my younger sister took leave and flew to cook congee. I cared for her afterward. My brother never showed. At my place, she urged me to have another child. “Try for a son.” I remembered how my parents hid in the mountains to evade China’s one-child policy, until they had him. I asked, “Where’s yours?” Her married daughters weren’t the “spilled water” she claimed. Mother said, “Sons are your insurance.” After everything we gave, I saw it now: Her scale was never mine to answer to.
Huina Zheng either writes as an admission coach at work or writes for fun after work.