Hello everyone,

Today, I want to share a story from my childhood with you.

This memory feels both vivid and blurry — like an old film playing in my mind, with flickering light, faint sounds, and a bittersweet feeling in my heart

哈啰，大家好。

今天想和你们分享一段我童年的故事。

这一段记忆对我来说，既真实又模糊，

像一部老电影，在脑海里有光、有声音，也有心里的一点酸。

When I left northern Taiwan, I had just entered my second year of elementary school.

My family moved to Kaohsiung, and from then on, life became a little unstable — like a snail without its shell, wandering everywhere looking for a place to rest.

离开了北部的生活，那年我刚升上国二。

我们全家又搬到了高雄。

从那时开始，生活变得有点颠簸，

像一只没有壳的蜗牛，到处找地方落脚。

By that time, my parents were already living separately.

My mom would visit two or three times a week,

while I stayed with my dad, living in a tiny storage room at his friend’s place.

It was located behind a fire station — small and dark.

There was a little glass window on the ceiling, and light would trickle in through it.

My dad and I shared one bed.

I remember often praying toward that little skylight —

it was the same moment I mentioned in my episode “The Broken Bone Miracle.”

那时候，爸爸妈妈已经分开住了。

妈妈一个礼拜会来看我两三次，

而我，跟着爸爸住在他朋友家的小储藏间。

那地方在消防局后面，很小、很暗。

天花板上有一块小小的玻璃，光会从那里透进来。

我和爸爸就睡在同一张床上。

我还记得，我常常对着那个小天窗祷告——

那也是我在《断骨奇迹》里提到的那个时刻。

My dad drank every day back then.

My daily task was to cross the street and buy him half a dozen bottles of rice wine or beer.

At night, his friends would come over to drink, chat, and discuss work.

Sometimes, the policemen or firefighters next door would play mahjong right beside our room.

Strangely, I didn’t mind the noise.

Only when my dad got drunk and his voice suddenly grew loud would I frown a little — but I stayed quiet, just being there.

爸爸那时每天都喝酒。

我每天的任务，就是去对面的小店帮他买半打米酒头或啤酒。

晚上，爸爸的朋友会来找他喝酒、聊天、谈案子，

有时候，隔壁的警察或消防员会在我们房间旁边打麻将。

奇怪的是，我并不觉得被打扰。

只是爸爸喝醉的时候，声音会突然变得很大。

那一刻，我总会轻轻皱一下眉头，但还是默默待着。

We didn’t have our own toilet.

If I needed to pee, I had to go to a corner of the water-storage room outside.

For number two, I had to walk through the kitchen and the living room to get to the bathroom.

There were so many rats and cockroaches there.

Once, a rat even crawled across my face while I was sleeping — I was terrified.

After that, we set traps and sometimes could smell the dead rats afterward.

But whenever we found one, my dad would take me out to a restaurant to celebrate.

Looking back, it was absurd and somehow adorable —

our own little “ritual” together.

我们没有自己的厕所。

如果要上小号，就要到外面的储水室角落解决；

要上大号，得穿过厨房、经过客厅，才能到达马桶。

那里老鼠和蟑螂超多，

有一次，一只老鼠竟然从我脸上爬过去。

那一刻，我真的吓坏了。

后来我们放了捕鼠器，

有时还能闻到老鼠尸体的味道。

但只要找到尸体，爸爸就会带我去餐厅庆祝。

现在想起来，那样的日子既荒谬又可爱。

那是我和爸爸之间，默契的“小仪式”。

Although that period of time was very dark, I always knew —

my parents’ love for me never faded.

Even though they were busy and emotionally distant, they still loved me in their own ways.

I had a lot of freedom: I could run and play with the neighborhood kids, or wander off to explore on my own.

When Mom came, she always brought me delicious food.

When I broke my arm, she visited every day to massage it or remind me to take more calcium and vitamin B.

Dad sometimes went away for a week on work trips, and without Mom around, I had to take care of myself.

Before leaving, he would hand me a thick wad of cash — ten thousand NT dollars as pocket money.

To me, that felt like a fortune.

I’d use it to buy little things I liked, or treat my friends to ice cream and movies.

That sense of having control over my tiny world made me feel so happy and free.

虽然那一段时间非常黑暗，但我始终知道——爸爸妈妈对我的疼爱从未少过。

即使他们各自忙碌、情感疏离，却仍然以他们的方式爱着我。

我拥有许多自由：可以和邻居的孩子们在巷子里追逐玩耍，也能自己到处探索。

妈妈来的时候总是会为我带好吃的，

我骨折后手弯弯的期间，妈妈每天都会来帮我的手臂按摩或者提醒我要吃更多的钙片和维生素B；

爸爸偶尔要出门工作，一走就是一个礼拜，没有妈妈的陪伴，我就得一人打理自己的生活，

他总会在离开前塞给我一叠钞票——一万元的零用钱。

那时候的我觉得这是一笔巨款，

我会拿着它去买自己喜欢的小东西，或是请朋友吃冰、看电影。

那种自己掌握小世界的感觉，让我感受到前所未有的快乐与自由。

我的网站：flywithlily.com