By+Anonymous

Almost every night， I go into my parentsroom and tuck my mom into bed. Ill lie next to her until my father comes upstairs or until homeworkcalls.

Well sit there and talk， and Ill play with her hair， and poke fun at her. She pokes right back. Illturn out the light， kiss her forehead， pat hershoulder，andtellhergoodnight.

Her presencein mind and body is one of the mostpreciousthingsinmylife.

I remember it was an aberrantly warm day in February. The grass was especially green， and the sun was pleasantly golden， suspended in a cloudlesssky.

I skipped off the school bus to find her car in the driveway. I knew then that something was wrong. My chest throbbed； leaden feet eventually broughtmetothedoor.Shewascrying.

My mother looked at me through raw eyes and said，“I have breast cancer.”We cried， we hugged，andIsatonherlap.

I was in fifth grade， scared and confused， justleavingbehindtheyearsofbedtimecuddles.

Five years before， my grandmother had had the same cancer. Was that going to happen to my mom？

We cried a lot as my mom told relatives and arranged appointments and bought a wig for when chemo began. She stayed strong for us during this time and I have come to associate withtears.

It was March when Mom went to the hospital to have the tumor removed. I went to school， needing the distraction. Dad called my teacher during the morning with updates. Then， duringour silentreading time， my teacher smiled andsaid，“Shesoutofsurgery.”

When chemo began， the warrior scarves and the pink ribbons came to mean something more than“support the cause”and became“support my mom”. That was also the time that our family hairdresser， a close friend of Moms， came over with trimmers. In no time Moms hair wasahalfinchlong.

Soon that half inch of fuzz fell out too， and she was left with a smooth， shining， pale scalp. Around the house shed wear a wrap on her bald head. It took me a while before I could think of herbaldwithoutcrying.

She became distant， both in mind and body. I remember Dad telling my brother and me to playquietlybecause“Mommyneedstorest”.

I didnt feel like I had a mom that summer. Sheisabsentinthosememories； simplynotthere. She continued to work， despite the chemo and radiation，butshewasalwaysexhausted.

At home she was either asleep or on“chemo！brain”. Shed laugh off her new"found absentmindedness， saying she might even lose her head if it wasnt attached. Even though she would look at me and try to listen， she often wasntabletounderstandwhatIwassaying.

This spring， my mom is five years cancer free.Herhairhasgrownbackwavyandnotgray，as she had feared. She claims to still have“chemo# brain”somedays，butnowitreallyisjustajoke.

The wig is sitting on my shelf. Our warrior scarves are collecting dust. We still have pink ribbons everywhere. The remains of her war against cancer are spread throughout our lives like battle scars to bragabouttotheworld.

After that difficult year of tears， mymomis back and here to help me through the simple problems of high school.

So I dont fight with my mom. I dont ignore her intentionally， nor do I talk about her negatively. She is healthy and strong and present ineverysenseoftheword.Shesmymomagain.

Every night， I tuck her in， turn out the light， and kiss her cheek because I know that we are lucky； there are plenty of girls out there whose momsdidntfindtheirlumpsearlyenough.

Never before have I been so thankful for my motherandsogratefulthatsheisherewithme.

幾乎每天晚上，我都会走进父母的房间为妈妈盖好被子，让她安睡。我会躺在她旁边，直到爸爸上楼来，或者我不得不去做家庭作业。

我们会坐在那儿聊天，我会拨弄她的头发，开她的玩笑，她也会反过来调侃我。我会关掉灯，亲亲她的额头，拍拍她的肩膀，和她说晚安。

无论心灵还是肉体，妈妈的存在都是我生命中特别珍贵的事情之一。

记得那是二月里异常暖和的一天，草特别绿，宜人的金色太阳悬挂在万里无云的天空。

我跳下校车，发现妈妈的车停在家门前的车道上。我当时就知道有什么不对劲了。我的心脏怦怦直跳，灌了铅似的双脚终于把我带到了门口。妈妈在哭。

妈妈用红肿的双眼看着我说：“我得了乳腺癌。”我坐在她腿上，我们相拥而泣。

那时我上五年级，才刚刚告别睡前抱抱的岁月，因此感到恐惧和困惑。

五年前，姥姥就得了乳腺癌。那种事也会发生在我妈妈身上吗？

妈妈通知了亲戚们，安排了各种预约，还买了一顶假发以供化疗开始时用。这段时间里，我们哭了好多次，但为了我们，她一直坚强地挺着，而我也渐渐习惯了与眼泪为伴。

三月的时候妈妈去医院切除肿瘤。我需要分散一下注意力，于是去了学校。做手术那天的上午，爸爸打电话给我的老师，报告最新消息。接着在我们默读时，老师微笑着告诉我：“她做完手术了。”

当化疗开始时，勇士围巾与粉红丝带就有了比“支持防治乳腺癌事业”更多的意义，变成“支持我妈妈”。也正是在那个时候，我们家的美发师———妈妈的一个密友———带着理发器来到了我们家。转眼间，妈妈的头发就只有一厘米多长了。

很快那一厘米多长的头发也掉落了，只留下平滑锃亮的苍白头皮。在家时，她会在光头上戴个头巾。我花了好长时间，才做到不会一想到她的光头就哭。

她与我们渐渐疏远，无论是心灵上，还是身体上。我记得爸爸告诉过我和弟弟要安安静静地玩，因为“妈妈需要休息”。

那年夏天，我感觉自己就像没有妈妈一样。那些记忆里没有她，她就是不在那儿。她尽管要做化疗和放疗，但还是继续工作，不过总是疲惫不堪。

在家的时候，她不是在睡觉，就是处于“化疗脑”状态（！"！#$%&（）*+，-./012345678 9）。对于她新发现的这个健忘症，她总是一笑了之，还打趣说她的脑袋要不是长在身上，她可能都会把脑袋弄丢了。尽管她也会看着我努力倾听，但她经常不能理解我在说什么。

到今年春天，妈妈摆脱癌症有五年了。她的头发已经长回来了，是卷发，而且没有像她担心的那样变成灰白色。有些时候她声称自己仍有“化疗脑”，但现在这真的只是个玩笑而已。

那顶假发就放在我的书架上，我们的勇士围巾则不断积聚着灰尘。我们家到处都还留着粉红丝带。她与癌症作战的这些残迹如今遍布在我们的生活中，像我们借以向全世界炫耀的战斗伤疤。

在那以泪洗面的艰难的一年后，我的妈妈回来了，在我身边帮助我解决高中那些简单的问题。

所以，我不会和妈妈争吵，我不会故意不理她，也不会说她的不好。她现在身体健康、强壮，任何意义上都存在着。她又是我的妈妈了。

每天晚上，我会为她掖被子，关掉灯，亲亲她的脸颊，因为我知道我们是幸运的———世界上还有很多女孩，她们的妈妈没能及早发现自己得了乳腺癌。

我从未对我的妈妈如此心存感激，从未对她就在我的身边如此感恩。