I came to United States years ago. At countless night, I dreamed about my parents making dumplings for me. Two years later, I visited my parents and realized that they got older and older. The night before my flight back to US, my dad woke up in the middle of the night. He started to mix the flour and told my mom to add more shrimp into the dumplings. My dad said that they were getting older and there would not be many chances they could make dumplings for their beloved son. I cried like a baby on my bed. I still can remembered their conversations by heart. After that visit, I was too busy to visit my parents for a few years. My mom and dad took a long flight to come to visit me. On the day they flew back home, I made the dumplings for them and packed them a big box. I told them to eat the dumplings on the plane as they might not like the food there. In the airport, my dad held the box tight with his hand sitting on the wheel chair.
Next year, my dad was very sick. I immediately flew to China to visit him. In the hospital, he told me to go back home to help my mom to make the dumplings. And he asked me to take them to the States and we shall never be separated again. When I carried the homemade dumplings back to the hospital, my dad left us forever. Over the years, dumplings translated as my love to my parents. I wanted to deliver this message to generations over generations.