I'm my mother's third girl. When I was born, the doctor gently explained to my mother that my left arm was missing, below the elbow (肘). Then she gave her some advice, "Don't treat her any differently from others." And she did.
There are five girls in my family, and we all had to help out. Once when I was about seven, I came out of the kitchen, "Mum, I can't peel potatoes. I only have one hand." "Get back to peel these potatoes, and don't ever use that as an excuse for anything again!"
Of course I could peel potatoes — with my good hand and my other arm. "Jenny, if you try hard," she said, "you can do anything."
Once in the second grade, our teacher had each of us race across the monkey bar (攀爬架).
When it was my turn, I said no. Some kids laughed. I went home crying.
The next afternoon Mum took me back to the school playground. "Now, pull up with your right arm." She advised. She praised me when I made progress. I'll never forget when I was crossing the bar, the kids were standing there with their mouths open.
It was the way with everything. Mum had the courage to face anything. And she taught me I could, too.
