The Beautiful Scar

I light up some incense as I offer to my beloved mother. Placing a plate of assorted fruits on the left, and a vase of flowers on the right side of her alter. Today marks ten years since she left this world. The day that reminds me deeply of the devotion of a mother's eternal love. My mother was a kind and humble human being. She was an aspiration for many people and that significantly includes me, her only daughter. As I sit facing her alter, just high enough to clearly observe her image. I remember that very moment, twenty years ago, that made me realize and changed the way I perceive my life, and most importantly the way I perceive my dear Mother.

“PLEASE GO SOMEWHERE ELSE?” I yelled furiously to the old lady covering half her face with a piece of worn black cloth. She appeared similarly whenever I saw her, dressed in brownish ragged clothes, with countless uneven coloured patches. Her white honeycomb slippers that have now turned into the colour of dust was ripped like a lifeless beehive. She was sweeping dust on the moldy green cement grounds that hundreds of students pass by each day. It was her job perhaps, I could never understand the reason for this filthy meaningless job. She was ignored by passers, and I barely acknowledged her. A few friends with me were giggling as I continued, “Please get out of my sight!” The old Lady did not utter a word, in silence, she walked away facing the ground and continued her sweeping. I could feel that she wanted to express something, but I ignored it anyway and turned to my friend.

“Why are you acting like that?” Linh asked with a curious look on her face.

It was probably the first time she ever saw me react so unpleasantly to someone. She was my best friend since fifth grade, and I was known to be the kindest student in school. “I-I don’t know” I hesitantly answered, “I just don't like her,” I continued, rushing my friends back to class and at the same time trying to change the subject.

“RINGGGGG!!” The familiar sound of the school bell rang vigorously as every student excitedly packed their bags to go home with their beloved ones, like birds escaping their cages. As for me, I felt like I was the only bird with a broken wing. It was the time of the day I disliked the most. As I walked home lethargically, doubting my own life. Each footstep was filled with anger and sorrow. Passing the deserted rice fields and old trails that only remained a few visible strands of grass. Nothing was appreciating to me, not my life nor my surroundings. I always wanted to escape this dreadful life.

Like every other day, I arrived to the doorsteps of my house. “ SQWEEKKK” as I opened the broken door which was missing a hinge on one end, and barely holding on the other. As I looked into my “so called home.” The only thing I could see from the sun rays shining through the cracks of the wooden walls was a familiar shadow of the same person waiting for me to arrive home safely everyday. She was the person I was supposed to call “Mother”.

She slowly walked towards me revealing parts of her face. As she came closer to me, I stumbled a few steps back. Despite the number of times I’ve seen it, but I was still terrified of the black patches on half of her face. It looked like layers of burned wood and uneven grounds of the forest. Streaking brown rough lines that looked like the old bumpy trails I walk past each day. At some areas remained pinkish dried skin as if it was rubbed by a brush for a long time.

“Please have dinner with me, I just finished making your favourite dish my dear,” she said in a motherly yet powerless voice. As if she knew what my answer was.

”NO!” I yelled with a stubborn look on my face.

Without second thoughts, I stormed into my room and slammed the cracking door right in front of her. “I WILL NEVER EAT WITH YOU, NEVER!”I shouted through the walls. I heard nothing but silence, the silence I never cared to acknowledge. Like always, I came out one hour later to eat a simple meal she prepared, white rice and a few slices of meat and vegetables. Sometimes, I wondered why she only cooked just enough for me to eat, and later on I would assume she only liked eating sweet potatoes. After all, I still ate all the meals she cooked and wondered how my life would be if I was born into a wealthy family. I was never satisfied with this life of mine, I blamed my mother for everything that went wrong in my life and how poor we were.

One month later, the day I dreaded the most was “Parent-teacher Conference” day. It was an inevitable event I can never miss, this was mandatory and my mother was my only family. I was scared that my friends and other people would know about her appearance. So I would always stick to my one and only plan was to beg for the earliest appointment possible. Even when it meant for me to wake up very early in the morning.

It was a foggy early morning as my mother and I walked through the school grounds. Hardly anything could be seen, the green coconut trees were white and the sun did not yet rise. I was not able to see my mother in front of me. Being extremely cautious to walk at least ten steps distant behind her, not daring to go any closer. I was afraid that someone would see. Finally, her hardened hands turned the knob and she walked through the door frame of my classroom.

“Good morning Mrs. Huynh, it is a pleasure to meet you. Please feel comfortable and have a seat,” Mrs. Lien invited my mother with a gentle voice.

“Thank you,” my mother replied in a shaky deep tone.

Their conversation continued on as I was hiding behind the greyish door eavesdropping every word they were saying. “Thuong is a very intelligent student, and is loved my her teachers and friends very much” Mrs. Lien said proudly. “No words can express the gratitude I have towards you, Mrs. Lien, ” my mother replied in a tone of voice I never heard before. She sounded as if she was very emotional. “Thank you very much for educating and loving Thuong as you do.”

Before I heard the next line, my eyes started to get drowsy and my body started to loosen. I lost conscious of their conversation, likely because I woke up early that morning.

One hour passed, the conversation ended. The next thing I knew was my mother standing up to go home, before leaving, she apologized,

“I’m very sorry for meeting with you at such an early time, please accept my apology”.

A sudden pause occurred. Mrs. Lien then asked with a stuttering voice, in a way of hesitation

“Mss-Mrs. Huynh, before you leave, may I ask you a question?”,

“Yes, of course,” my mother answered quietly.

“Thuong is a very kind child. I can see where she inherited it from. Everything about her is worth to be proud of. I realized during class discussions, whenever “mother” was mentioned, I feel like she is discouraged and self conscious. I truly believe a feeling she should not have”.

There was a long awkward pause, a pause that made my body trigger, heated the palms of my hands and teared my forehead. My mother inhaled a deep breath then said.

“She hates herself for having an ugly mother. I intend on telling her about the truth but she doesn't ever dare come near me because of the scar on my face. Even though we are family but I am ashamed of myself for not being able to communicate with my own daughter. When the time comes I will tell her”.

“Can you tell me Mrs. Huynh?” asked Mrs. Lien in a quiet toned voice. It almost sounded like she wanted to cry. My mother continued.

“It happened about thirteen years ago. I came home from the rice fields about three kilometres away. Before my own eyes, I saw vicious flames catching every centimeter of my precious home, and even more precious was my child still sound asleep in her straw made crib. Despite how dangerous it was I immediately ran straight into her room and fully embraced her out in my arms. Before I could escape safely, a base log to support the ceiling fell straight towards my face, and with all my strength I used to protect my only baby. I don’t regret what happened, all I wish for is Thuong to be healthy and grow up to be just like other children her age, not missing out in life. What fulfills me the most is the fact that she is loved by her teachers and friends, that is enough to make me happy. That is why I named her “Thuong” (means love). Hoping wherever she goes, she is loved by everyone she encounters.”

My hands started to shake, my eyes tearing up like an endless river. All I felt was the feeling of regret running through my veins and my heart felt like it was poked by a thousand needles. I was not able to stand on my own two feet, and collapsed to the tiled floor.

The door suddenly opened, and I knew it was her, my mother. I didn’t dare look at her. This time it wasn’t because I was ashamed of my dear mother, but because I could not handle the feeling of regret towards her. All I knew at that point was the warmth of her wrinkled hands embracing me tight, like the time she rescued me thirteen years ago, the time she risked her own life for me. Her tears flowing along my tears, and her warm cheeks on mine. I finally understood my mother's silence, her unsaid words.

A few days later, I had support from my teacher to hold a special day for my mother. It was a very meaningful day for me, the day I proudly introduced her to my classmates. Unlike the other times, my mother walked in without covering half her face with the black cloth, and it was my turn to express my unsaid words.

“Mother, my dear Mother. From the depth of my heart I apologize it took this long to call you Mother proudly. I’ve always been blinded by my own limited thoughts. Thinking you were not valuable in my life. Thinking you were not pretty enough in my eyes, yet not realizing if it wasn’t for your sacrifices, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. You wore old ripped clothes for me to wear beautiful fine clothes. You didn't eat the same meals as me, instead, you ate the sweet potatoes because that was all you could afford. You swept dust every day near my school because you knew that was the only time you can observe me solely, I was so ignorant to avoid you whenever I could. Everything you did was for me and yet now I realize it. I am sorry it took me so many years until I can see your face clearly, the definition of Mother’s eternity love and sacrifice. “Mother” I love you very much, and I am sorry for the way I mistreated you, please accept my sincere apology”.

The letter ended in tears of happiness. I embraced my mother like I have never before. We both, dwelling in the happiness of the presence of each other.

The memories slowly fades away as I come back to the present moment. Still facing the altar and observing my mother's image. As a child, I have learnt to appreciate my mother as how she is. Behind her unfortunate scar was a great sacrifice of a mother, and the discovery behind her unsaid words was the immense love she has carried within her delicate heart. Through the chance of learning the truth, it has resulted in a significant change in my life. It has made me feel like the luckiest child ever to have such a beautiful mother and feel grateful for the life I had. Despite being poor, I was able to swim in eternal love my mother offered me. This encouraged me to live life as a good person and be loved as my mother's wishes. She will forever remain in my heart.