2025年5月21日
我依然清晰地记得，小学放学的时候，班主任总要进来讲一段话。但我和几个小伙伴早已心不在焉，彼此对视着、蓄势待发，只等冲出教室去抢占学校唯一一张石头砌成的乒乓球桌。球网？我们只有几块红砖。可我们可以从放学一直打到天黑，浑然不觉疲惫。就算下雨，也浇不灭那份热情。
是这些小伙伴让我感受到了“热爱”——一种无所保留、全情投入的热爱。后来，我把这份热爱带到了足球场上，带到了《星际争霸》里。每当放学的铃声响起，心跳就不由自主地加快，老师的话还没讲完，我就已经想往外冲。而我身边，总有一群同样热血的小伙伴陪伴左右。
这种爱，也延续到了我对人的感情上。还记得小学时，大家对“喜欢”还懵懵懂懂。每当喜欢的女孩举手回答问题时，我也心潮澎湃，仿佛她的每一个动作都能点燃我全身的神经。第一次与喜欢的人接吻的感觉，至今仍铭刻在心——那一刻，整个世界仿佛静止，只剩下奇妙与悸动。
长大之后，我有了自己的孩子。第一次触碰到他们柔软的肌肤时，那种感觉竟和初吻一样奇妙。记得一个黑夜，我在North River Road上以80迈的速度疾驰，另一个黎明时分，又在I-94上以120迈飞奔向医院——感谢老天给了我这么多机会，让我练习“去爱”。
餐桌上，我父亲小心翼翼地为我的孩子挑着鱼刺，一根一根地剔出来，轻轻放进碗里。我依稀想起自己小时候，家境并不富裕，吃鱼是难得的奢侈，但父亲总是把最好的部分夹给我。直到长大，我才明白，原来那些带着温度的饭菜，藏着深沉的爱。我很庆幸，在这个外卖随手可得的时代，我的家人仍然在一次次地练习“被爱”。
高中时，我的女友住校，而我走读。每天晚上我们用公用电话通话，一直聊到她寝室熄灯。电话挂断后，我还会写信给她，第二天夜里再读她的回信，兴奋得辗转难眠。那一字一句，仿佛都能透出她的爱。现在，我的孩子偶尔也会搂着我说：“I love you, Daddy.” 感谢老天，又一次让我练习“被爱”。
爱与被爱，都是需要练习的。可在人生这场长跑中，我们往往用时间划出一个个目标节点，匆匆向前，忘了停下脚步练习这最基本也最珍贵的能力。而讽刺的是，要实现这些目标，我们最需要的，恰恰是成熟——而成熟，来自于我们会去爱、敢去爱，也愿意接受爱、感恩被爱。
May 21, 2025
I still vividly remember how, after school in elementary school, our homeroom teacher would always come into the classroom to give a little speech. But my friends and I were already tuning out, exchanging glances and bracing ourselves to dash out the door—racing to claim the school’s only stone ping pong table. As for a net? We just used a few red bricks. But we could play until dusk without feeling tired. Even the rain couldn’t stop our joy.
It was those friends who helped me discover what it means to love something passionately—with full commitment and unreserved joy. I later carried that same passion into soccer and into the game StarCraft. Every day after school, my heart would pound with excitement, and I could barely wait for the teacher to finish speaking. There was always a group of buddies charging out with me, full of the same energy.
That love extended into my feelings for people as well. I remember in elementary school, we were just starting to be aware of feelings toward the opposite sex. Whenever the girl I liked raised her hand to answer a question, my heart would race, and all my senses felt heightened. That first kiss with the girl I loved is something I'll never forget—it was as if the entire world had vanished, leaving only wonder and magic.
As I grew older and had children of my own, I felt a similar sense of wonder the first time I touched their delicate skin. I recall one night driving 80 miles per hour on North River Road, and another morning at dawn, speeding at 120 mph on I-94 to reach the hospital. I thank the heavens for giving me so many chances to practice love.
At the dinner table, my father gently picked out the bones from a cooked fish, one by one, and placed the meat into my children’s bowls. I suddenly remembered how he did the same for me when I was a child. Though we didn’t have much money and eating fish was rare, he always gave me the best parts. Only as I grew up did I realize that the food shared in a family carries deep, quiet love. I’m so grateful that, even in this age of ubiquitous takeout, my family still has chances to practice being loved.
In high school, my girlfriend boarded at school while I commuted. Every night we spoke on a public phone until her dorm lights went out. Afterwards, I would write her letters, and the next night I’d read hers—too excited to sleep, savoring every word, feeling her love in each one. Today, my kids sometimes hug me and say, “I love you, Daddy.” I thank the heavens again—for letting me practice what it feels like to receive love.
Loving and being loved both require lots of practice. But in the long marathon of life, we often define it by time and milestones, rushing from goal to goal, forgetting to stop and practice these most essential and precious abilities. Ironically, to truly achieve our goals, we need maturity—and maturity comes from knowing how to love, daring to love, accepting love, and being grateful for it.