Love always here

Simon

My child's name is Simon.

In the morning I got up, stood in front of the mirror, changed my clothes and repeated the rendition in an attempt to find out what it feels like to be a mother.

I used to have no vision of marriage, let alone children. Faced with the suddenness of it all, I would often stare in the mirror, hoping to see a little change in myself. Yet, there was none.

When my mother saw me, she smiled and gave me her approval, "Looking good."

As I walked out the front door of the hotel, I realized it was raining, spots of rain falling on my jacket.

The car that came to pick us up was a black RV, the newest model of Mercedes if I remember correctly.

The driver was the same man who had accompanied the lawyer to me. The car was quiet and I kept enjoying the scenery along the way.

After about an hour, the car stopped in front of a classic European style manor in the suburbs.

Get off the car and look at the surrounding environment, the manor is surrounded by two rolling hills, not far from a lake.

With the mountains at the back and the water at the front, it is close to nature.

We walked along a pebble path, through a large lawn, stepped into the manor.

The garden is planted with various kinds of valuable flowers and trees, and you can imagine the vibrant scene here when spring comes.

Chris was waiting for us at the gate.

This is an extravagant palace, full of romantic, luxurious European classicism aristocratic atmosphere. In the bright hall, the terrazzo marble floor echoes the crystal chandelier on the ceiling, and part of the walls are mirrored, with the reflection of the mirrors reflecting the general splendor of the palace. More notable is the lion-skin carpet on the floor, rendering the classical European charm.

A noblewoman wearing a deep purple velvet gown stood under the magnificent light. Her features were very delicate, the kind that could not be picked out at a glance, and her skin was fair, giving people a feeling of dignity and softness.

Just by looking at her appearance, it was impossible to guess her age.

"Have been waiting for you guys for a long time, please have a seat." She smiled faintly, giving off a feeling like a spring breeze.

"I want to see Simon first." I knew it was rude, but I didn't want to wait any longer.

Probably not expecting that response from me, she was stunned for a moment.

"That's fine, let the nanny take you guys up."

You guys go up first." My father said to my mother and me.

"Oh." I replied.

My mother and I followed the nanny and stepped onto the revolving staircase.

"Why didn't father come up with us? Isn't he curious?"

"Your father comes to see the boy once a year." Mother whispered.

I see, I thought to myself.

Arriving at a white door on the third floor, the nanny gently pushed it open.

They must have loved the boy very much, you could tell by the decor of the room.

The room used a riot of colors. The cosmic landscapes of stars, constellations, and nebulae painted on the ceiling made it seem as if one was in space, roaming among the stars. On the wall, there are pictures in cute frames, recording the child's growth. There are also a lot of toys piled up in the corner.

My heart settled down, it seemed that my child had a good life all these years.

The child was lying quietly in a cartoon colorful bed.

Probably awakened by our arrival, he opened his hazel eyes.

"Hello." He opened his mouth, seeming to be an educated child.

"Hello ." I looked at him with a smile.

"Who are you?" He looked at me with wide eyes.

I'm your mom, almost blurted out.

"She's one of your sisters who likes you and came to see you." The nanny replied in a rush.

Sister? I frowned a little at the name.

"Uh-huh." He responded.

"What's your name?" Despite knowing it, I still wanted to hear it from him in person.

"Simon," he stopped talking and just quietly surveyed me, and my mother behind me.

I looked at him quietly as well, trying to find one similarity to me in his face. Other than noticing that the eyelashes were long and a little like mine, there was nothing else. Maybe his dad has long eyelashes too.

Honestly, I don't feel anything special about this kid. I just think he's a poor sick kid.

The whole time the mother didn't say a word, looking at the boy as quietly as I did.

"He's like you when you were a kid." When I left the room, my mother said this to me.

Hearing it, the feeling of triumph came over me.

The book said that a child is like a replica of its parents, and that no matter how many times the genes mutate, the parents can be seen in the child. With a replica in my life, I suddenly felt not alone any more.

"Maybe he'll look like me when he grows up." That's what I said to myself.

The nanny explained to us that the child is still in the early stages of the disease, and given that chemotherapy has a great impact on the child's body and mind, medication is still the main control at this stage. Fearing that the child would not adapt to the hospital environment, he stayed at home .The doctor comes every morning to diagnose the child.

"Simon is a very smart child, he is very musical, he started learning piano when he was three years old, and now he has passed the fifth grade of piano."

Sitting on the elegant European sofa, I listened to the lady in front of me leisurely recounting the child's story.

"At dinner time, he occasionally plays a tune or two for us, which is really pleasing to the eye."

"Does he like cartoons?" I popped up with this one.

After asking, I also felt a bit regretful, as if it was a bit inconsistent with those noble hobbies of my child.

"Of course, the favorite is Peppa Pig," the lady said with a smile in her eyes.

Paige, I remembered that there was a Paige doll on his bed.

It was secretly delightful to hear that my child had the same childhood favorites as I did.

"Charlotte loved cartoons when she was little too, and sang a lot of cartoon theme songs." My mother said thoughtfully.

Talking about children always brings back a lot of memories for parents.

Leaning against the rococo style fireplace, sipping fragrant black tea, listening to the bits and pieces of their children growing up.

It was about noon before we left.

In the car on the way back, I kept trying to remember everything I had heard about my child.

"An easy-going person." Mother said lightly.

I knew she meant the dignified lady.

At night, I lay in bed and kept imagining.

Imagining every slice of my child's growth, and then like a movie, playing it over and over in my mind. One year old, two years old, three years old. And then extrapolate that to him today. Then visualize him at seven, eight, nine.

I want this child to grow up healthy and to have my presence every day of his life.

I told my parents about the decision and they were silent.

Yes, it would take time for them to come to terms with the change as well.