a wish for me

Oh my mama is getting old.
Since I left Taipei, however, she has appeared younger and younger with a more and more beautiful smile on her.

She was not prettier than me when she was at my age. Because she just had my brother and was fat.
But now she can fit into more hot shorts and jeans than me.
Jeans tell all about the body, enhancing the most impressive part if the body is gorgeous, revealing the most appalling part if the body is nothing sweet to be looked at.
Which is why I like to see guys with jeans. That's how I judge their rear end.
Appreciating a woman's body in jeans is a different kind of judgment because women usually wear jeans fit. Thus, belly and thighs are taken into account too. Which makes it more difficult to look great in jeans for women. Which also makes it more profitable if someone designs a pair of jeans that make all women happy.
The point is my mama can wear jeans at the age of 53. Women in her age are jealous. How fabulous. I am not only very proud of her but also very happy for her that she is very happy about all the compliments about her shape. This is all superficial and all important. Any person needs compliments, even on superficial subjects, strengthening self-esteem a whole lot. Then she will display a smile like an endless horizon barely separating the sky and ocean, embracing everything on the earth.

She never smiles like a flower.
That's her charm.
She has a kind of quality that I never found an English word for it. The Chinese word says it all. But how can I express it in English? It's like the quality you find in Juliette Binoche or Maggie Cheung. It is a way a woman carries herself. Not particularly in any mood, but when people see her, people remember her image with that quality. That quality makes "beautiful" so superficial and "elegant" so phony.

Don't get me wrong. She is not perfect like a unreachable goddess. She can be crazy. Tearfully huge laughs. Hysterical angers. Heartbreaking cries. She makes weird faces and says the most inappropriate thing at odd situations. If she allows herself, she dances and sings well.

Life has taught her something profound that I won't be able to understand until reaching her age. Probably I will never fully understand because I don't know what my life will teach me yet.
She is so fearless and independent. But she is also so lovable and dependable.
Her uniqueness is not because of what happened to her, which I can write several books for her, but because of how she dealt with what happened to her. I've seen much of her in horribly shitting situations. She has been crashed into pieces, but always put herself back together. She never escapes but absorbs.
Some people just grow old but never grow wisdom. Their romantic excuse is keeping their spirits young. Right, but being young doesn't mean being childish/unrealistic/irresponsible/arrogant.
Cruel life experiences enable my mama to be childlike, humble, tough, and confident. She never stops growing up to the next level of maturity. Mamas are amazing, especially mine.

When I said happy birthday to her some hours ago, I found my wish redundant. Of course she would have a happy birthday. I called anyway because I wanted to hear her happy voice.
Happy birthday sounds more like a wish to myself. I am happy because of her birthday.