Mom doesn't say too much. But I remember she said, "When winter comes, we'll go home."

Home, China, the other side of the earth, ten thousand miles away.



The last few days of their staying in Pittsburgh were warm and sunny, yet full of sorrow.

We walked up again to the flaghill in Schenley Park, my parents' favorite.

Ginco trees were as bright as sunshine, grass still green, sky pale washed-blue.



I asked my mom to pose for a picture.

"Mom, could you move your head a little back?" She did that with a smile.

Through the lens, I saw mom's face in the sun, calm as usual.
Through the lens, my mom looked at me with warmth.



I felt helpless sorrow at the time I pressed the button.

I captured the moment of mom. The moment only stays in the tiny frame. Within four days,
she went back to China.