My mother is in bad health these days. I know it’s my blame. I am old enough to take on a great deal of work from mother, but I am so obstinate to accept the reality that I must fail to wash clothes, mop the floor or cook dishes—though I’ve only tried successfully to get up early every day for the first time.

I thank my friend, also a sufferer, that she helps me to adjust my mood by untiring chats with me. I am ever so thankful that she may be the only one who has patience, or even tolerance, to listen to my abject words.

These days I learn a philosophy: a kind of affluence is being content. When in middle school time, I was an A student, but I was also a frog in the well who doesn’t see the real sky. Pride was my suit, until I entered the best class of the best high school, and I became the bottom one. I am not telling a story. The point I want to make is that to pull through this, I changed all my state of mind. I allowed myself to be rather the tail of the phoenix than the head of a cock. From the second year, I naturally ranked the middle.

So I think I should take another view of my present life. What should I expect? If I am not content with the current situation, with the current belongings I possess, I will not have the real perseverance to go for what I still don’t have. Progress is sometimes made in a tricky way, which you are not aware of because you do not extravagantly hope for it.

Now I have confidence to live an easy life, with much less depression. I will help my mother to live restfully, and catch up with my friend who has been much better than me in mental conditions. But eventually I should enjoy what I’ve already had, and wish tranquilly for the gift in the future.