With first sunrise shimmering in her hair, Mother arrived at my gate with one oversized suitcase, filled with food and guilt. ‘Have more sleep, I will bring breakfast to your bed.’
‘I am already awake, let’s eat together.’ As Mother hurried into the kitchen, I smelled soft jasmine soap, and fresh black hair dye. Soon, steam rose from my favourite rice porridge. Mother left Father when I was little. Every misstep I made, she blamed herself. We sat and ate warm white porridge from bluewhite porcelain bowls. A blue painted girl at the bottom of each bowl.
离婚第一天
清早, 母亲站在了我家门旁, 阳光洒满她依然浓密的黑发, 超大旅行箱中满是我爱的食材，与她的负罪。‘多睡会儿，做好早饭端到你房间。’ 她说。
‘我早醒了，一起吃吧。’我答。母亲匆忙去了厨房。转身间，我闻到她发端熟悉的茉莉花香，还有新鲜染料的味道。很快，裹着米香的水汽，从浓稠的米粥中幽幽升起。母亲很早离开了父亲，女儿所有的不如意，都是她的错。我们面对面坐着，喝着温润的米粥。青花女孩端坐于碗底。
translation by the author, Vera Hua Dong, with Ting Yu
The first day of my divorce
Vera Hua Dong discovered the joys of writing and gardening three years after she moved from Shanghai to Kerikeri, where she has lived with her husband and two children since 2013. Her writing deepens her sense of childhood in China and opens her mind’s eye to the beauty of living in rural New Zealand. She writes prose and poetry in both Chinese and English.