Selina Xu

Not too long ago I stumbled upon a funny meme on Rednote: if you’re a filial South Korean, bring your parents to Zhangjiajie, a national park in China that’s famous for inspiring the floating Hallelujah mountains in Avatar. So popular is the saying that signage everywhere is in Mandarin and Korean.

This month I went with my parents for a quick three-day trip. Most of my recent travels to China have either been about AI or history, which is why the country’s incredible nature offerings took me by surprise: soaring mountains that resembled fingers thrusting into the sky, a natural hole formation in the mountain like a doorway to the heavens, 999 stairs up some stretches of the mountains (or alternatively, for those with weak legs, five different escalator rides), and carpets of lush greenery for as long as my eyes can see from the mountain peaks.

Now that I’ve turned 28, traveling with parents feels different. I’m still their baby princess; they still give me advice about life, love, and work; they organize everything. But maybe it’s because I finally feel psychologically like an adult, I see the full depths of their sacrifice and my own shortcomings. My dad, who no matter how busy his work is, has always been fully present for me, for every late-night call, every family trip, every important life decision. My mom, who put me first in the prime years of her life and nurtured me with full devotion, knows me better than any other living human (she’s witnessed every single moment of my growth)—an intimacy that isn’t inevitable between mother and child.

On this trip, I awakened to the weight of the choices they made: my mom, who gave up her job to focus on me; my dad, who bore the responsibility of being the sole pillar of the family’s finances. And of the selflessness of parenthood, of nurturing without expecting return, of letting go after a lifetime of sacrifice. We live in inversions in time: their day, my night. We see each other in units of days each year.

I falter even thinking about being able to do the same. I feel in awe at the feat and courage of their love. They were, after all, around my age when they had me.

So thank you, Mommy and Daddy. ❤️