Dating another woman

和另一女人約會？ 結婚了廿一年後，我發現了一種別出心裁的方法， 可以讓愛的火花永保新鮮。 不久以前，我和另一位女士約會，其實那還是我妻子的主意， 有一天她說：「我知道你很愛她。」

我很驚訝，立刻爭辯說： 「但我愛的是妳呀！」「我知道，但你也愛她呀！」

我妻子要我去看的女士是我的母親。 她已經寡居了十九年，然而我忙碌的工作和身為二個孩子父親的責任，令我分身乏術， 以致很少有時間和她相聚。 那晚，我打電話給她，邀約她第二天和我一起吃晚餐和看電影。

「怎麼了，你還好嗎？」她問道。 母親是那種會認為晚上那麼晚打電話，又突然邀約她 ，一定不會有什麼好事的人。

「我想如果有機會和妳單獨約會，一定很有意思。」我回答。

她想了一會兒，然後說：「我非常樂意。」

那個星期五下班以後，我開車去接她時，心裡有一點緊張， 因為從未嚐試過這樣的約會。 當我到達她家時，我看她對這樣的約會，似乎也有一點緊張。 她在門內等著，身上穿著大衣，裡面那件禮服 還是最後一次慶祝結婚紀念日所穿的呢！ 她的頭髮還特意捲了一下，臉上的微笑像天使一般。

上了車後，她得意洋洋地說：「我告訴我的朋友，我要和我的兒子外出約會， 他們都好羨慕，迫不及待要聽聽我們約會的情形。」 
我們去一家雖不豪華，但十分雅致，溫暖舒適的餐廳。 我母親挽住我的臂彎，好像第一夫人一般。 入座以後，我必須幫她看菜單點菜， 因為她的眼睛現在只有大的字才看得見。 用餐一半時，我抬起頭來，看到母親正在凝視我， 嘴角帶著懷舊的笑容說：「記得當你小時候，總是我為你看菜單的。」 「那現在妳正好可以休息，輪到我來為妳服務了。」我回答。

一面享用晚餐，我們一面聊天，聊得很愉快， 談了許多最近幾年來，各自生命中的一些事。 我們聊得太久了，所以趕不上電影。當我送她回到家門口， 她說「我要再和你一起外出，但下次讓我作東好嗎？」我答應了。

回家後，妻子問我：「你的晚餐約會如何？」 
「非常有意思，比我想像的好多了！」~我回答。

 幾天以後，母親因心臟病猝發而去世。這事發生得太突然了， 讓我完全措手不及。

 不久以後，我收到一封信，裡面是上次我和母親約會的那家餐館的一張收據，上面有一 張字條寫著： 「我已先付了賬，因為我確定自己不可能再有機會去了，但我還是付了兩人份的賬──你和你的妻子。 你絕對想不到那一晚的約會對我有多大的意義，我愛你。」

從那一刻起，我深深體會，一定要及時說： 「我愛你」，並且要常常撥出時間給我們所愛的人。 世上沒有任何事比自然如來因緣和你的家庭更重要， 多花時間和他們在一起，因為這事絕不能拖延到「以後有時間時?」。

「樹欲靜而風不止，子欲養而親不待」是人生一大憾事。

聖經不是也告訴我們嗎？ 「凡事都不可虧欠人，惟有愛，要常以為虧欠， 因為愛人的，就完全了律法。」 Continue reading...

手是要这样子用的

Continue reading...

母親，我怎麼讓你等了那麼久?

树欲静而风不止，子欲养而亲不在。 朋友们，多点回家吧。。 [转载自佳佳的部落格]

母親真的老了，變得孩子般纏人，每次打電話來，總是滿懷熱誠地問：「你什麼時候回家？」

且不說相隔一千多里路，要轉三次車，光是工作、孩子已經讓我分身無術，哪裡還抽得出時間回家。母親的耳朵不好，我解釋了半天，她仍舊熱切地問：「你什麼時候能回來？」

幾次三番，我終於沒有了耐心，在電話裏衝母親大聲嚷嚷，她終於聽明白，默默掛了電話。隔幾天，母親又問同樣的問題，只是那語調怯怯地，沒有了底氣。像個不甘心的孩子，明知問了也是白問，可就是忍不住。我心一軟，沉吟了一下。母親見我沒有煩，立刻開心起來。她欣喜地向我描述：「後院的石榴都開花了，西瓜快熟了，你回來吧。」

我為難地說：「那麼忙，怎麼能請得上假呢！」她急急地說：「你就說媽媽得了癌，只有半年的活頭了！」我立刻責怪她胡說，她呵呵地笑了。小時候，每逢颳風下雨，我不想去上學，便裝肚子疼，被母親識破，挨了一頓好罵。現在老了，她反而教著女兒說謊了，我又好氣又好笑。這樣的問答不停地重複著，我終於不忍心，告訴她下個月一定回去，母親竟高興得哽咽起來。可不知怎麼了，永遠都有忙不完的事，每件事都比回家重要，最後，到底沒能回去。電話那頭的母親，仿佛沒有力氣再說一個字，我滿懷內疚：「媽，生氣了吧？」母親這一回聽真了，她連忙說：「孩子，我沒有生你的氣，我知道你忙。」

可是沒幾天，母親的電話催得越發緊了。她說，葡萄熟了，梨熟了，快回來吃吧。我說，有什麼稀罕，這裏滿大街都是，花個十元八元就能吃個夠。母親不高興了，我又耐下性子來哄她：「不過，那些東西都是化肥和農藥餵大的，哪有你種的好呢。」母親得意地笑起來。

星期六那天，氣溫特別高，我不敢出門，開了空調在家裏呆著。孩子嚷嚷雪糕沒了，我只好下樓去超市買。在暑氣蒸騰的街頭，我忽然就看見了母親的背影。看樣子她剛下車，胳膊上挎著個籃子，背上背著沉甸甸的袋子，她彎著腰，左躲右閃著，怕別人碰了她的東西。在擁擠的人流裏，母親每走一步都很吃力。我大聲地叫她，她急急抬起滿是熱汗的臉，四處尋找，看見我走過來，竟驚喜地說不出話來。

一回到家，母親就喜滋滋地往外捧那些東西。她的手青筋暴露，十指上都纏著膠布，手背上有結了痂的血口子。母親笑著對我說：「吃呀，你快吃呀，這全是我挑出來的。」

我這沒有出過遠門的母親，只為著我的一句話，便千里迢迢地趕了來。她坐的是最便宜、沒有空調的客車，車上又熱又擠，但那些水靈靈的葡萄和梨子都完好無損。我想像不出，她一路上是如何過來的，我只知道，在這世上，凡有母親的地方就有奇蹟。

母 親只住了三天，她說我太辛苦，起早貪黑地上班，還要照顧孩子，她乾著急卻幫不上忙。城裏的廚房設施，她一樣也不敢碰，生怕弄壞了。她自己悄悄去訂了票，又 悄悄地一個人走。才回去一星期，母親又說想我了，不住地催我回家。我苦笑：「媽，你再耐心一些吧！」第二天，我接到姨媽的電話：「你媽媽病了，你快回來 吧。」我急得眼前發黑，淚眼婆娑地奔到車站，趕上了最後一趟車。

一路上，我心裏不住地祈禱。我希望這是母親騙我的，我希望她好好的。我願意聽她的嘮叨，願意吃光她給我做的所有飯菜，願意經常抽空來看她。此時，我才知道，人活到八十歲也是需要母親的。

車子終於到了村口，母親小跑著過來，滿臉的笑。我抱住她，又想哭又想笑，嗔怪道：「你說什麼不好，說自己有病，虧你想得出！」受了責備的母親，仍然無限地歡喜，她只是想看到我。

母 親樂呵呵地忙進忙出，擺了一桌子好吃的東西，等著我的誇獎。我毫不留情地批評：「紅豆粥煮糊了；水煎包子的皮太厚；滷肉味道太鹹。」母親的笑容頓時變得尷 尬，她無奈地搔著頭。我心裏暗笑，我知道，一旦我說什麼東西好吃，母親非得逼我吃一大堆，走的時候還要帶上，就這樣，我被她餵得肥肥白白，怎麼都瘦不下 去。而且，不貶低她，我怎麼有機會佔領灶台呢？

我給母親做飯，跟她聊天，母親長時間地凝視著我，眼裏滿是疼愛。無論我說什麼，她都虔誠地半張著嘴，側著耳朵凝神地聽，就連午睡，她也坐在床邊，笑咪咪地看著我。我說：「既然這麼疼我，為什麼不跟著我住呢？」她說住不慣城裏的高樓。沒呆幾天，我就急著要回去，母親苦苦央求我再住一天。她說，今早已託人到城裏買菜了，一會兒準能回來，她一定要好好給我做頓飯。縣城離這兒九十多里路，母親要把所有她認為好吃的東西都弄回來，讓我吃下去，她才能心安。從姨媽家回來的時候，母親精心準備的菜餚，終於端上了桌，我不禁驚詫──魚鱗沒有刮盡、雞塊上是細密的雞毛、香油金針菇裏居然有頭髮絲。無論是葷的還是素的，都讓人無法下箸。母親年輕時那麼愛乾淨，如今老了竟邋遢得這樣。母親見我挑來挑去就是不吃，她心疼地妥協了，送我去坐夜班車。

天很黑，母親挽著我的胳膊。她說，你走不慣鄉下的路。她陪我上了車，不住地囑咐東囑咐西，車子都開了，才急著下去，衣角卻被車門夾住，險些摔倒。我哽咽著，趴在車窗上大叫：「媽，媽，你小心些！」她沒聽清楚，邊追著車跑邊喊：「孩子，我沒有生你的氣，我知道你忙！」

這一回，母親仿佛滿足了，她竟沒有再催過我回家，只是不斷地對我說些開心的事：「家裏又添了隻很乖的小牛犢；明年開春，她要在院子裏種好多好多的花。」聽著聽著，我心裏一片溫暖。

到年底，我又接到姨媽的電話。她說：「你媽媽病了，快回來吧。」我哪裡相信，我們前天才通的話，母親說自己很好，叫我不要掛念。

姨媽只是不住地催我，半信半疑的我還是回去了，並且買了一大袋母親愛吃的油糕。

車到村頭的時候，我伸長脖子張望著，母親沒來接我，我心裏忽地就有了種不祥的預感。

姨媽告訴我，給我打電話的時候，母親就已經不在了，她走得很安詳。半年前，母親就被診斷出了癌症，只是她沒有告訴任何人，仍和平常一樣樂呵呵地忙裏忙外，並且把自己的後事都安排妥當了。姨媽還告訴我，母親老早就患了眼疾，看東西很費勁。

我 緊緊地把那袋油糕抱在胸前，一顆心仿佛被人挖走。原來，母親知道自己剩下的日子不多了，才不住地打電話叫我回家，她想再多看我幾眼，再和我多說幾句話。原 來，我挑剔著不肯下箸的飯菜，是她在視力模糊的情況下做的，我是多麼的粗心！我走的那個晚上，她一個人是如何摸索到家，她跌倒了沒有，我永遠都無從知道 了。
母親，在生命最後的時光裏，還快樂地告訴我，牽牛花爬滿了舊煙囪，扁豆花開得像我小時候穿的紫衣裳。你留下所有的愛，所有的溫暖，然後安靜地離開。

我知道，你是這世上唯一不會生我氣的人，唯一肯永遠等著我的人，也就是仗著這份寵愛，我才敢讓你等了那麼久。

可是，我真的有那麼忙嗎？
Continue reading...

An Experiment about Perception

I got this in my mailbox a couple of weeks ago.

Washington, DC Metro Station on a cold January morning. A man with a violin plays six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time approx. 2 thousand people passed through the station, most of them on their way to work. After 3 minutes a middle-aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.

4 minutes later:
The violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

6 minutes:
A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

10 minutes:
A 3-year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced their children to move on quickly.

45 minutes:
The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.

1 hour:
He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin valued at $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the price of seats averaged $100.

This is a true story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities. The questions raised: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made... what else are we missing?
Continue reading...

Father Forgets

Too often we are quick to criticize others. It is always easier to find fault in others than to admit we ourselves have blundered.

I once hissed and spat venom towards a close friend, to defend and to protect myself. It was impulsive. But it was wrong. I then apologized and we were back on good terms (luckily). Was the initial outburst necessary? No.


"Father forgets" was written by W. Livingston Larned. It is such a wonderful piece that it should act as a constant reminder for all of us to think twice, if not thrice before criticizing or scolding someone, especially our children:

Listen, son: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.

There are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, “Goodbye, Daddy!” and I frowned, and said in reply, “Hold your shoulders back!”

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive - and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. “What is it you want?” I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightended with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding-this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: “He is nothing but a boy - a little boy!”

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.

Continue reading...

Love is not a zero-sum game

We are all gamers. We play games everyday.

A game is being played whenever people interact with each other. Men and women play courting games. An employee and his boss negotiating his pay raise are playing a bargaining game. When an internet user logs in to Ebay to bid for his favourite item, he is playing a game with the other bidders of that item.

On a chess board, the player's sole aim is to checkmate his opponent. With that move, he claims complete victory, thus becoming the winner. Like most other games, chess is a zero-sum game. If you don't win, you lose.

Zero-sum game, as explained in Wikipedia.

In game theory and economic theory, zero-sum describes a situation in which a participant's gain or loss is exactly balanced by the losses or gains of the other participant(s). If the total gains of the participants are added up, and the total losses are subtracted, they will sum to zero.

Then, is love a zero-sum game?


Trapped in a period of sulking after exiting my previous relationship, I was inclined to believe love is a zero-sum game. I remember feeling bitter during that time. While she has found bliss, I was in a bad shape.

Of course, I was duly wrong.

I realized that after shifting to a different mindset. When there is no light at the end of the tunnel, breaking up would be a better solution. This is not a win-lose situation, it is win-win for both of us.

The Game of Love isn't a zero-sum game. That's for sure. Continue reading...

End of the Road

There's always something waiting at the end of the road. If you're not willing to see what it is, you probably shouldn't be out there in the first place. Continue reading...

A Walk to Remember

Retracing his steps over and over again in the house, his thoughts drifted back to a year ago…

He was lying on his bed, with his head buried deep into the pillow. He was weeping. Never in his life had he cried so hard until the pillow was soaked with tears. For two days, he concealed himself inside his room, refusing any contact from the outside world. Amidst his absence at work, his boss tried to call him, only to be greeted with a dead ringing tone.

“I have moved on, and you should too.” The girl told him blankly. There wasn’t any heated argument. After months of cold war and knowing that it was already too late to save the relationship, he left the room without uttering a word.

On the third day, he approached his boss to tender his resignation letter. He thought it would be best for him to leave the sad memories behind to start anew, but little did he know how impossible that task would be for him in future.

In the following weeks, he accidentally got to know that the girl was in fact in good terms with another man. In a state of shock, he went into denial mode and tried to comfort himself, “She can’t possibly find herself a new boyfriend in such short interval!”

Nevertheless, the evidence was all written on the wall. Eventually, he confronted her and asked for her confirmation. He wanted the answer from her own mouth.

The girl admitted.

Needless to say, he, with all his male testosterone, was furious. He felt cheated, and betrayed. As rage cruised through his veins, he sent out a hate mail to the girl. After few exchanges, then only he realized that he has not acted rationally and apologized to her.

For days, he would take a stroll in the park. Round and round the park he walked, in the middle of the night. His thoughts dwelled long into the past, he recalled about himself and the girl. Yes, they have had some wonderful time. However, the love between them has been fading away fast lately. They had cold war for days without talking to each other. Somehow, they were like two different entities taking on two diverging paths.

“What has gone wrong?” he questioned himself. Indeed, he was grumpy and insensitive. But she wasn’t without her faults.

“How did the other man get the slightest chance to chip in?” he realized, “If the relationship was not troubled in the first place.” He finally realized that his ignorance and inaction were the deadliest blow to their relationship, and he knew that this truth alone will haunt him forever. As he laid himself on the cold hard cement floor beside the fountain, the falling rain ran over his face, washing away his tears.

After he moved all his belongings into his car, the girl brought their beloved toy poodle to bid farewell to him. It was agreed earlier that she would have the custody of the cute little pooch. He patted the dog. He wanted to give her a hug, but somehow he suppressed the urge and boarded the car after saying goodbye to her. He regretted after that.

Coming back to the present, he stared blankly at the phone. He called her moments ago to wish her happy birthday. Although she did not call him during his birthday, he wanted to do it. He has told her they will be friends forever, and it’s a promise he’s determined to keep.

He bears no grudge against the other man. But he doubts he will ever like the man.

Two years ago on the same day, he wrote her a poem.

My sweet little angel,
I am enamored by you,
By your laughter and your smile,
I could not help but fall deeply in love with you,
You who ensnare my heart.

I still could recall,
That late night on the hill.
The world freezes around us.
I tried to force my lips to move,
To say the three magic words,
To show the feelings I cannot hide,
But words didn’t come so easily,
Although I tried so desperately,
And made a fool of myself.
Then suddenly you nodded,
And I ‘m glad you did,
For I could never find one such as you,
You who make my life worthwhile.

I will always remember,
The day we journeyed through the woods,
Beyond the giant pond,
The path winding up,
Making way for us.
And in these woods we strolled,
Darkness surrounded us,
Brisk cold air embraced us.
There you took my hand,
And I smiled as your fingers,
Danced with mine.

Up on the tallest mountain,
We paused to catch our breath.
As I gazed up above,
Into this blanket of stars,
That reigned overhead,
I felt insignificant, microscopic, trivial,
Then from the corner of my eye,
I viewed a momentary image of beauty,
A falling start, a promise of bliss,
I glanced to my side and your smile,
Warmed my heart and tickled my soul,
I came upon true realization,
Beneath the constellations,
That my life would not be the same,
Without this angle to match the stars.

I move closer and hold you tight,
Looking deep in your eyes to find,
The chemistry that would make us forever bind,
But you shy away and make me miss.
You place a soft hand to my face,
Which cause my heart to pound and race,
You bring your breath so close to mine,
Then whisper only one small line,
You say, “I love you”.
I plant my lips on yours,
As I feel your delicate skin beneath mine.
You slowly blow into my ear,
I grab you by the waist, and bring you near,
As I stroke my hand through your silky hair,
Such pleasure to touch and so soft.

I picture us holding hands,
Walking through this wondrous world,
For suddenly I have no fear,
‘cause I have found the one I search through my life,
The one so lovely, warm and kind,
The one I thought I’d never find.
Yes, heaven is missing an angel,
‘cause you are here with me.

Today, what he has is his memories. The memories seem to cling onto him, or is he refusing to let the memories go.

“Maybe it’s time to let go.”

“No, I definitely must let it go.” he mumbles to himself.

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