《英文随笔》金昔吖

7、A Thorn in the Flesh

　　Every time I trace back to those good old days spent with my mother, though most of it looks like a red rose, I can always find a wormhole in it which can never be repaired.
　　It was the day before the second Sunday of May. The weather was rather good with peonies and Chinese roses blossoming along the flower bed. I was a poor junior high school student who had sere hair and unbecoming garment at that time, having only a few coins in my pocket. But since I had already decided to buy my mother a gift with all the money I had, I still mustered up my courage to go to the pedestrian street to search for a perfect souvenir for her.
　　After searching for a long time, I realized that so impecunious I was that I couldn’t buy a decent gift for my mother. Full of disappointment, I tried to go to some cheaper grocery stores because I still thought that maybe a small gift could also convey great affection. Finally, I spent ten yuan buying a necklace which was no doubt made of some cheap and false materials and another 3 yuan buying a relatively exquisite gift box to store the necklace. In my mind, that gift cost all the money I had, so it was far away from cheap.
　　The next day, I was very happy to see the necklace embracing the neck of my mother and she looked very happy, too. I thought that must be a wonderful gift for her.
　　However, only two days later, I saw the necklace was laying on the drawer with one chain broken. “Maybe the necklace has a poor quality—that happens sometimes when you buy something cheap.” I thought to myself and didn’t think it was a serious thing since I knew how much I spent on this necklace.
　　Several days later, I irritated my mother with some unknown reason, and with the eyes full of contempt scowling at me, she shouted: “You liar, the only thing you can do is to sell seconds at best quality prices.” I was startled for I thought she should have known the price of my gift. I stood silently in front of her with nothing to say. A rose in my hand was regarded as a weed in her eyes.
　　Sometimes I console myself that she still loves me, and maybe that is because she thought the necklace I bought was so cheap that made her lose face, so she abused me like that. But her voice still echoes in my mind, and every time I buy her something as a gift, it reminds me of that scene. It is like a thorn in my flesh, aching sometimes and having no way to remove it.