I was recently at a week-long summer camp in China. A bunch of kids and teenagers like me received military-boot-camp-like training every morning; for the remainder of the day, we would go out and explore the culture and rich history of China, and we would attend classes at night. These classes were taught by professors from Tsing Hua University and Peking University, though they taught subjects that aren't found in college curricula. Rather than teaching us academics, they taught us about lifestyles: good habits, positive mindsets, motivation, work ethics, appreciation, love, and gratefulness. The last night at camp, we had a class on how grateful we are to our parents.

The class consisted of a professor from Peking University, our camp's counselors and military trainers, and 150 students crying in their seats. Before camp started, all parents wrote their child a letter to be opened during this class, and in it had the words they always wanted to say to their child. It was a very emotional class. The teacher recommended that we write our parents a letter in response when we got a chance. Since I can't express my thoughts as well in Chinese, I thought to write my response letter here.

Dear Mommy and Daddy,

I love you. I love you both so incredibly much, more than I love anyone or anything else in this world. I don't show it as often as I should, and sometimes I give you more attitude than I give other people that I don't love as much. I apologize for this, but for some reason, in my mind, I reason that no matter how badly I talk to you, somehow you still know that my love for you exceeds everything else.

I don't really know how to begin this letter, so I'll start by saying thank you. It'll be a quick one, because not even all the words in the English language put together can express how thankful I am to you. You guys really do it all; you raised Leo and me to be the people we are today, and I wouldn't want it any other way. Even with all the obstacles we face, you manage to unite our family and give me strength, hope, and love--thank you for that.

I feel the need to say a quick apology as well--for all the times that you've lost sleep over me when I stayed up arguing with you about things that I was obviously wrong about but too stubborn to admit it, for all the times that you've had to go way out of your way to drive me somewhere that was minuscule in importance compared to whatever you were doing, for all the times that I've taken you for granted and treated you any less than you deserve. Sorry about all that; I know you have forgiven me, though. I still can't understand why you forgive me time and time again, even though I don't deserve your forgiveness at all. I know it's your love to me; it's like a debt I can't ever repay, but it's okay because it doesn't need to be repaid--because it's love.

The professor during our gratefulness class talked about your hands and feet. He asked us if we really took a chance to look at our parents' hands; he said that as we students grew up, you guys got older. Though your once-young hands now have wrinkles and scars, they are still the same hands you have always had from my childhood--the ones that embraced me when I had nightmares, the ones that helped me up from the concrete when I fell off my bike, the ones that cooked my favorite eggs-rice-and-tomatoes dish for dinner every night. The professor told us we should all wash our parents' feet for them once in a while so we can really feel how hard you work. As we wash the dirt and grime off your feet, we learn to appreciate all that you do. You use this very pair of feet to hit the gas pedal to drive me to school, to dance, to cross country. You use this very pair of feet to walk over to my homework desk to ask me how my studying is going. You use this very pair of feet to stand up for our family and me, both figuratively and literally.

There's a phrase in Chinese: 辛苦, or xīn kû. I don't exactly know of an English translation that encapsulates its meaning, so I'll just try to explain it. It means when someone has worked incredibly hard, when they've put in all their effort. They're tired, very tired. But they don't complain, they don't wish to do any less. In China, it's typical to tell someone that they're "辛苦" when they come home from work, but it's not used as much as it should be when talking about parenting. Being a mom or a dad is probably the most "辛苦" thing on Earth, because not only is it physically tiring to run after your children all day and night, it's mentally exhausting. Mommy and Daddy, I know you're constantly thinking about my brother and me, whether it be worrying, missing, or just wondering what we're up to. I probably don't deserve all the brain cells you kill by thinking about me, but you do it anyway. I probably don't deserve all the white hairs you've grown pondering my health, but you do it anyway. I probably don't deserve all the times you've been scared out of your wits worrying about me, but you do it anyway. The Peking University professor said that at the end of the day, one line can give you more comfort than we children think. So, here it is: 妈妈，爸爸，你们辛苦了。(Mommy, Daddy, you guys are "辛苦.")

My mom said that there's a Chinese legend that when you die, you drink a magical soup that erases your memory of the entire life that you just lived so you can move on to your next life as a clean slate. She says that it's not a choice whether to drink this soup or not--you just have to. But I don't ever want to drink this soup; I don't ever want to forget you, Mommy and Daddy. I don't ever want to forget the time we had together, the joy you've brought me, the smiles that you've helped put on my face when I wasn't feeling my best. I don't even want to forget all the times I've cried in your face about some petty thing I wouldn't put down, or all the times I've crossed my arms in annoyance at how much you asked about my day because you cared about me. I want to always remember this; I want to remember Mommy, I want to remember Daddy, I want to remember Leo, I want to remember this family. I'm selfish and protective, no doubt; I won't give up my memories this easily. I won't let go of all the road trips we've taken, whether it be happy ones to the beach and dueling with sticks on hiking trails, or tense ones to Chicago and arguing at the Field Museum and Science Museum. All of it, I want to keep forever--because I wouldn't want to change it to be anything else. If something happens and I do drink this soup when I die, I will make sure to be your daughter in the next life--heck, I want to be your daughter in every life I ever live.

Mommy, Daddy, you've given me the gift of life and love, and I think it's perfect with all its ups and downs. A mere letter isn't enough to say thank you, or to say how much I love you. But at least now you have an idea.

Love,

Your forever daughter, Irene