I hated my mom when I was little.

My mom is always described as “ clever”, “capable” and “tenacious”. She seems good at everything: she has peerless charisma, manifold interests and even beautiful hand-writing. In this case, she has strong personalities and always has a high expectation on me.When I was a kid, she always scolded me for not getting the full score in my math tests. She always held a rule while I was playing the piano in order to punish me when I made mistakes. She was always angry by my not-well-coordinated body as I always dropped a cup or smashed a dish. As the result, I was afraid of her. I was jealous of other kids and regarded myself as a poor child who had never received my mom’s love.

Then I changed my thought when I was ten years old.
I was sent to a hospital because of hematuria, which means that my urine was mixed with my blood. The doctor told me parents that my kidney was inflamed by virus. My parents were shocked by how severe the disease was but still forced smiles and tried to console me.To make things worse, there was no enough wards in the hospital that night so I was arranged to stay in a tiny room with nothing but a bed in it. My mom decided to stay with me even the bed was too small for two people.

I woke up at midnight and wanted to make water.
My mom was sitting in the darkness. Her head drooped. Heard my voice, she stood up and quickly used her hands rubbed her face. I was told that there was no restroom so I could only use a water barrel.After that she held the barrel and went out of the room.
I still remember her disappointed face when she came back. She told me no one has been willing to let her use the washroom to pour the urine.
“Do not worry , I will go again.” She hugged me, patted my back softly and turned around.

I looked at her diminutive figure, the tears streaming down from my face.

Even though this happened long time ago, I still could not erase from my mind the poignant thought when I imagine my mom to hold that barrel and to beg everyone to help her. She was such a proud person bur at that moment she seemed so little and so tender. I felt ashamed by myself, for the rebellion that fostered in my mind towards my mom and the stupid thought that my mom did not love me. I realized her love is everywhere: in her instruction, in her hug, in her voice and even in her merciless criticism towards me. Even though she is no more than a common person, for me she is the greatest woman in the world. Her love is just like the sunshine, intangible but powerful, gives me life and energy and protects me up to now.