My youth was cut short by my mother.

Having lived in Hanoi for almost two years, witnessing this alternating pattern of sunshine and rain has gradually become commonplace. On days like these, I often feel heavy-hearted and miss the sea breeze of my hometown. Walking slowly along the familiar street, I see newly planted trees being propped up to withstand the weather, a few clumps of flowers that were vibrant this morning, displaying their beauty in the morning sun, but by evening have withered and been crushed by the weight of the downpour. Suddenly, a thought crosses my mind: how fleeting life is! Is the most beautiful and vibrant cycle of a flower perhaps like the youth of a human life? Just as fleeting and quickly gone?

“Youth”… I often hear people talk a lot about it. There’s nostalgia, regret, joy, and sadness… But has any of us ever truly understood what “youth” is? Or have we ever met our own “youth”?

For a girl who has just turned 20 – an age no longer filled with dreams but with many thoughts. Thinking about life will no longer be seen through rose-tinted glasses with a bright blue sky full of ease and hope. Instead, it will be about experiences and the painful first stumbles of life. If at 18 I felt talented, capable of doing anything in the world, with enough energy, passion, enthusiasm, and a willingness to contribute – then at 20, I wonder where I am in these days, where I stand in relation to my ideals in life.Where did you spend your youthful years? Where did you go? What did you accomplish? Who did you love? How did you live? And did you have...happy Are not?

I've read many quotes about "youth." I wonder, is "youth" really that enigmatic and diverse? What is youth that requires so many conventions to define it? Can youth be held in one's hand or measured? What is the taste of youth that makes it so unforgettable?

That's right, I've asked so many people about youth. I kept searching for what my youth was and wondering why I hadn't yet experienced it. And now, at the age of 20, I've realized that my youth isn't something abstract, nor something too difficult to understand, and certainly doesn't need flowery language to describe it. Because for me, youth is simply called Mother.

My youth was filled with happiness thanks to my mother's love. Perhaps my childhood wasn't complete, lacking a warm and loving family, and I never truly experienced a father's affection. But I never considered that a misfortune. Because my mother's love, worry, and care for me were immense. She dedicated her entire youth to loving and caring for me, and this love will likely never end.

My youth was filled with days of eating and studying. My mother's youth was spent toiling to provide for me in the most comprehensive way possible. My youth was spent sitting in a cool, air-conditioned room amidst the harsh summer heat, while my mother's youth was spent toiling in the fields under the scorching sun, her skin burning, all for the sake of giving me a comfortable, worry-free life. Yet, I took my mother's youth for granted. I was oblivious to all her hardships. I even used the youth that my mother protected so diligently to cry, to grieve, and to think about strangers who didn't deserve it.

Spending time scrolling through Facebook makes me realize how much we can spend hours visiting someone's profile, writing a long status update. We spend all our free time waiting for a message or a call, not knowing if it will ever come. Even now, no guy has ever called me 30 times, I've never missed a call, no guy has ever sent me more than 30 messages. No guy has ever left me a voicemail that moved me to tears. Never, never, never… But Mom is always like that. She might call me many times a day, each time for a brief 5-7 seconds just to ask if I've eaten, or if I'm tired. And yet, I only used those youthful days to wait for unrealistic things, unaware that Mom was also longing to receive a call from her child.

Growing up and living far from home made me understand all of my mother's hardships. At home, she took care of me, ensuring I had plenty of nutritious meals. Studying far from home, I could only eat hastily, unable to take care of my own health. There were days when I missed home, missed my mother's cooking, and tried my best to cook a meal as delicious as hers. But after finishing, looking at the meal, I wished my mother were there to eat with me. That's what youth is like; it's a trade-off, not a demand for perfection. It's just that my mother's love is so great, her heart so boundless, that it has protected and nurtured me, giving me the most fulfilling youth possible.

My youth was a sacrifice made by my mother. While others may be luckier than me with a happy and materially comfortable family, I am more fortunate to have a loving and self-sacrificing mother who ensured I had everything I needed. My mother sacrificed her youth, enduring the pain of childbirth and raising me to be who I am today. She suffered all kinds of physical and mental anguish, hoping only for my health and success in life. My youth may have been happy and fulfilling, but I understand that it was bought with my mother's endurance and loneliness. My youth was about soaring freely in the vast ocean, while my mother's youth was perhaps only about being by my side, supporting and worrying about me. My youth was about growing up and developing, while my mother's youth was about a bent back and graying hair. My mother's youth was about sacrificing both her health and spirit so that my youth could be healthy and happy.

That's right, my mother dedicated her entire youth, her whole life, to me. My youth was beautiful because of my mother, and it was only complete because of her. I just want to say that you shouldn't worry about searching far and wide for your youth; start with the smallest things. Don't waste your youth; realize the true value and meaning of the youth you need to find, and live it to the fullest, cherish it, and give your all for it. Youth is beautiful. Don't let it pass by quickly and meaninglessly. I think everyone has their own youth and their own thoughts about it. So, what is your youth? As for me, my youth is my mother, and the days of my youth began with my mother's youth…