In my memory, it seems like I have never hugged my parents. Perhaps I did when I was a babe, but I am not so sure since there is no evidence.
I was born at home in the village and the midwife was my grandma (farmor). At that time, my father was working for local municipality with monthly salary around 30 kr and mother was a famer. My first picture in my life was taken when I was 3, or 4 years old. Maybe! Nobody could tell exact time when the picture was taken.
My mother got a job at municipality too when I was about 2 years old, and I got a little sister. They were so busy and had no time to take care of me, so they sent me to my grandma (mormor). My grandma lived on the top of a mountain with a lot of fruits trees and sunshine. Some memory pieces told me that I had a great time there with my grandma and other kids.
My grandma told me two stories when I was older. One is that I was playing with friends outside, she called us in and told me my father was coming. She wanted us to take a basket and go to the other side of the valley to pick some fresh apricots from the biggest apricot tree for my father. She said there were lots of ripe apricots on the ground which were blown down by the wind. We took the basket and went to the apricot tree. However, there was nothing on the ground. A few fruits were hanging on the tree, but the tree was too big. We could not climb up, neither hit with stones. Well, we could only wait and see if the wind would bring us something. Time went by, we brought home one green apricot until we heard grandma calling us from home. In the end we were told we went to the wrong tree.
Another story is that when my father finally could take a vacation to visit me in the village, I was playing on farmland with friends, dirty and totally tanned. And I couldn’t recognize my father. He was really sad and took me home with him.
I was really luck with such open-minded parents. I read so many books and could do whatever I wanted to do (good things of course) in my childhood. They give me the most trust parents could ever give. I always like to take my mother and father’s arm and talk when we walk.
I was good at school and left home for studying since 15 years old. They knew I would get further and further away from them when I grow older. They encouraged me whenever I miss home.
Now I am living in Sweden. I try my best to visit my parents and sister once a year. I learned to hug here. You hug almost every time when you meet your friends and families in Sweden. But not in China. Every time I visit my family, they come and pick me up from the airport, all three of them, never missing anyone anytime. Before I get out the airport, I always imagine how hard I will hug them. But as long as I see them, standing there at the exit and waiting for me, familiar faces with familiar smiling. It’s like I have never been away. No hug! I just take their arms, walking to the car parking and telling them stories from Sweden.
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