When I was 10, my mom was 32. She was a hard-working woman who spent her days teaching at a secondary school, from 7 am to 9 pm. I often read her books, mostly about literature and politics. I wished to one day be as wise as her. To me, she had life all figured out. She went to work, brought home groceries, cooked our meals, and handled everything effortlessly. Even when I made mistakes, like breaking her phone and lying about it, she always found the truth. She seemed to know everything.

Then one day, I woke up. I was 28, and she was 50. That morning, she called me, crying. She told me her boyfriend, the man she’d been seeing, already had a wife. She hadn’t known she was the mistress. For the first time in my life, we talked like friends. I am her best friend. She opened up about her past, about how she had me, and how hard it was to raise me. We talked for hours, and I realized something: even now, as an adult, she’s still figuring it all out, just like me, just like the rest of us.

That conversation changed the way I saw her. She was a person with her own fears, heartbreaks, and uncertainties. She carried the weight of being my mother so beautifully that I never thought to look beyond the surface.

After that day, our relationship shifted. We started talking more openly, sharing parts of ourselves we hadn’t before. She told me about her dreams when she was my age, how she wanted to travel the world, write a book, and learn to play instruments. I never knew that. Some dreams she had to let go of, others she still held onto. She admitted that being a mother sometimes felt like an act, like she had to pretend she always knew what she was doing because I needed her to.

Hearing that made me reflect on my own life. At 28, I often felt like I was pretending to have it together for the sake of appearances. But my mom’s honesty showed me that it’s okay not to have all the answers. No one does. We’re all going through life the best we can, sometimes making mistakes, sometimes finding our way, and always learning.

That realization didn’t make life easier, but it did make it more real. Now, when I look at her, I don’t just see my mom. I see a woman who’s lived a full, complicated life and still gets up every day, trying to figure it out. And when she looks at me, I hope she sees the same- a person who’s still growing, still searching, still human. Life isn’t about always knowing; it’s about showing up, trying, and being willing to learn from the unexpected.

Love, Be happy, Be present

Chang Le.