Sometimes I doubted whether love existed between my parents. They were always busy earning money to pay for my brother's and my tuition. They never acted in the romantic ways I saw in books or on TV. Saying "I love you" seemed too luxurious for them, and Valentine's Day flowers were out of the question. My father, tired from work, often had a short temper.
One day, as my mother sewed a quilt, I sat beside her.
"Mom, can I ask you something?" I said after a while.
"What?" she replied, not looking up.
"Is there love between you and Dad?" I whispered.
My mother stopped sewing and looked up, surprised. She remained silent, then bowed her head and continued her work.
I was worried I had hurt her and felt deeply embarrassed, unsure what to do. Finally, she spoke thoughtfully:
"Susan, look at this thread. Sometimes it shows, but most of it is hidden within the quilt. It's what makes the quilt strong and durable. If life is a quilt, then love is the thread. You can't always see it, but it's always there. Love is inside."