Talking to Ina

（這是一段和Ina的對話，我永遠都不要忘記。）

This is about one of my conversations with Ina (mom), one which I intend to remember forever.

Last weekend, I attended a two-day seminar called "Revisit Your Childhood"（走訪童年）. The lecture was great, so was the group of participants. In two days, we were shown how formative preschool years may shape a child's personality in the future:

Born~Year 1: Children learn to trust, to love and be loved.

Year 1~Year 3: Children learn about boundary and learn to respect boundary.

Year 3~Year 6: Children learn to tell from imagination to reality, from falsehood to truth.

Year 6~Year 12: Children learn about responsibility and cooperation.

For the last thirty-something years of my life, I've had real difficulties in trusting people's feelings about me, always doubting and always hiding behind my absurdly high wall of insecurity, chewing on my own woes. So, a few days after a psychiatrist sentenced me to depression, I started to wonder if my childhood had been a joke; if I was even tossed to the street to feed dogs, so that I become this impossible nowadays. 

Finally, on the evening of 26th October 2015, I  decided to confront Ina about my doubt on the phone: 

Yedda: Ina, when I was little, did you ever really love me and take care of me?

Ina: Of course! You were my first baby! I was very young and nervous; I had you next to me almost every day. I was even so protective of you that one time you caught measles, your vuvus (grand-moms) told me to keep you from wind, so, knowing no better, I wrapped you in layers of blanket. Unfortunately, your temperature grew; you had fever. We had no idea your eye muscles cramped during your fever. When you finally woke up, your right eye never looked the same anymore. You had divergent strabismus. That is something I can never forgive myself with.

Oh, dear Ina, please stop feeling guilty. Please forgive yourself, because when people look at me, they always notice my eyes and they always say my eyes are pretty!

Oh, please forgive me, dear Ina, for being such a spoiled prick who doesn't know she's cherished and loved, but tries to blame her problems elsewhere than fixing her own head. 

Thank you so much, Ina! Love is too short of what I feel for you.