HW#1(Revised) Dumplings, mother and the coin

Being the most classical traditional food in China, dumplings have been blessed with various layers of meanings: togetherness, happiness and best wishes for the next year. As for me, they are not simply boat-shaped rolls which have delicious stuffing; instead they are the source of my confidence and the symbol of my mother’s love.

I can still vaguely recall that it was the time when Spring Festival was around the corner, every family was busy with buying flour, making dough and cooking dumplings with tasty filling, including pork, celery and cooked tomatoes, just name a few. Every single person seemed to enjoy the upcoming feast of dumplings and be immersed in the joyful atmosphere.

The only exception was me.

Back then, I was still a very shy girl who rarely dared to speak out my perceptions and perspectives. With a personality like this, I could hardly receive any compliments from my teachers or build friendship with my classmates. Due to all of these reasons, I eventually lost my confidence and couldn’t help thinking I was the most unfortunate girl in the world. I considered this as one of the most significant festivals of the Chinese as any other ordinary days in addition to some dumplings.

It was at that night when my mother called upon all of my family members and announced that from then on, we would initiate a new custom. The rule was simple: she would wrap a coin in one of the dumplings and whoever got this coin would be considered as the luckiest one in our family for the upcoming year.

“What kind of difference will that stupid dumpling make?” Being unsatisfied and skeptical about this idea, I just grabbed the plate from her hand and sat down.

Not blaming me for my rude interruption, my mother just smiled and handed everyone a plate served with hot and mouthwatering dumplings. With absolutely no interest in my mother’s childish little game, I just wanted to finish this plate and go back to my room as soon as possible. However, as I dug into my plate, my mother whisked away the plate in front of me, saying, “This is too much for you.” and handed out hers to me.

Quietness took hold of the rest of the meal, until my unexpected discovery broke this awkward silence. I felt a weirdly cold and hard object scratching my teeth.

It was that coin.

With great excitement and suspicion, I stared at my mother who already had “pride” written all over her face.

“My daughter will be the luckiest girl in this whole year!” She exclaimed, mixed with happiness and affirmation.

After I started to believe that I was the one who would be accompanied with good luck, I finally made a difference in my life. There is such a thing called confidence breaking into my life as time elapsed. Blessed by that magical dumpling, I could manage the interpersonal relationship and handle my school work much better. What is more, I began to look forward to the Spring Festival, the very beautiful occasion, and I could not wait to taste some of the excellent dumplings to find out if my luck could last.

Every Spring Festival, mom served us with dumplings.

Every year, she played this same little game.

Every year, somehow it was me who would always get the lucky dumpling.

Gradually, eating a lot of dumplings became part of life. Each time I felt depressed or lost, I would resort to dumplings to seek for comfort and power, regardless whether they had coins stuffed in them or not. But time by time, I accumulated experience and skills through these failure and success, eventually, I grew up to an age when I no longer needed the “magic” dumplings to build my confidence in life. My becoming mature and considerate urged me to doubt whether the “magic" could ever possibly happen.

Lying in the plate neatly, every single one of them looked like an exquisite piece of art work, glowing with the same charming pearl color and spreading the similar inviting smell. It seemed that these dumplings were nothing special. Nevertheless, the only difference is that there would always be one dumpling with a coin hidden in it appeared on my plate.

Last Spring Festival, just as the time when I decided to give up on the search of my mother’s little secret and lived in the peace with the small world that I was the most fortunate one, my mother invited me to her kitchen, the place where I had rarely stepped into because of various excuses. She was busy with going through all the preparations before making dumplings. All I did was standing there and watching her running back and forth. The process was tiring and time-consuming, nothing special. But as she started to cook the dumplings, I finally revealed the secret I longed to discover: She stuffed a well-washed coin into a dumpling, wrapped it up and boiled it in a separate little pot. By this way she could always ensure that special dumpling was served to me.

She placed the special dumpling onto my plate, smiled and handed it to me. Holding the plate in both hands, I was speechless; a simple “thank you” could never reward her effort. I was deeply touched by her dedication to rebuild my confidence through tirelessly adopting this intelligent method and being tolerant to me over the years. I felt an upwelling of emotion inside my chest and tears started to roll down on my cheeks, I handed the fortunate dumpling back to her carefully and gave her a hug which I had owed her for years.

There was no such a thing as lucky dumpling in the world. It was she who made the miracle happened to me. From then on, my favorite food was still the inviting dumplings, but I no longer need to eat the so-called “lucky” dumplings because I have already gotten mine, my sweet and beloved mother.





picture: 1."homemade dumplings" from xiapu.com http://www.ixiapu.com/bbs/attachment/47_148_daa083752b0a3a8.jpg 2."dumplings" by feixue from bbs.ssfeng.com http://bbs.ssfeng.com/bbs/attachments/month_0609/1a9yNfTo63Suw==_sktwNSzDwiy7.jpg