感恩有您——寫在感恩節前夕

感恩有您——寫在感恩節前夕

每到感恩節前夕，心裡總會變得特別柔軟。

一年又一年走過風雨，我愈來愈明白：

今天我還能站在這裡寫字、做夢、呼吸，都不是理所當然，而是無數「您」默默托著我往前走。

首先，我要感恩的是美國這塊土地。

還記得剛來的時候，我們拎著簡單行李，英文說不好，路也看不懂，只能一邊摸索一邊硬撐。

然而，就是在這片陌生的土地上——

我們找到第一份工作、開了第一間小店、交到第一批朋友。

這裡或許不是我們的出生地，卻成了讓我們東山再起的地方。

它讓一個「什麼都沒有」的移民家庭，

可以靠雙手翻轉命運；

讓孩子可以抬起頭，輕聲說一句：

「這裡，也是我的家。」

感恩父親與家人——背影與燈光

接著，要深深感恩的是我的父親與家人。

如果說，美國給了我「重新開始」的舞台，

那父親，就是那個在台下默默守候、不肯離席的人。

想起童年時之奔波流離之日子中,他也許沉默寡言、不善表達，

卻總是在我們看不見的角落，

一次又一次把重擔扛在自己肩上。

母親和家人，更是生命裡最柔軟卻最堅韌的存在。

外面的世界冷得像冬夜時，

他們用一桌熱菜、一句「回來啦」，

讓我們記起自己不是孤軍奮戰。

也許他們不會說漂亮話，

卻在我們失敗時，願意陪我們一起流淚；

在我們成功時，眼眶比我們更容易泛紅。

原來，所謂家人，

就是那群即使被我們誤解、嫌棄、頂撞，

卻仍然在心裡為我們留一盞燈的人。

感恩愛人牽手——在人海中，有一個人和你同方向

在這個特別的日子裡，

我更想深深地感恩——一路牽著我手的那個人。

那是一雙不一定華麗，卻最讓我安心的手。

當年初到異鄉，語言不通、人生地不熟，

口袋裡的錢算著用，未來像一片霧。

是你站在我身旁，輕輕握住我的手，

好像在說：「別怕，我們一起。」

風大一點沒關係，

因為有一個人，和你一起往前走。

我們一起在超市細算每一分錢，

一起為房租、學費、孩子的未來煩惱，

也一起在小小的廚房裡煮一鍋熱湯，

告訴彼此：「日子再苦，只要有你，就不算輸。」

有時候，我倔強、固執、脾氣大，

你卻選擇用沉默的包容，把風浪化成波紋；

有時候，你疲憊、心酸、不說話，

我只想在你身旁，輕輕握緊你的手，

讓你知道：

這一生，我不是路過你，而是要和你一起走完這一條路。

我們牽著手走過窮日子，

牽著手熬過病痛與失眠，

牽著手看孩子長大、父母老去。

有時只是在黃昏一起散步，

什麼話也不說，只聽腳步聲一起落在地上，

那種安靜的踏實，就是我心中最大的幸福。

在人山人海裡，

不過是多了一雙你熟悉的手，

卻能讓你在最黑的夜裡，

仍然相信明天會亮。

所以，在所有的「感恩有您」之中，

有一個位置，永遠是為你保留的：

謝謝你，一直牽著我的手，

陪我從無到有，從青澀到白頭。

感恩每一個「您」——貴人、朋友、甚至是傷害過我的人

還有太多人，我想一併說聲：感恩有您。

感恩那些給過我機會的貴人——

也許只是一句鼓勵、一通電話、一個肯定，

卻在我最想放棄的時候，

替我把人生的門又推開了一點點。

感恩一路同行的朋友與同事——

在迷惘的時候，拉我一把；

在得意的時候，提醒我別忘了初心。

有些人陪我們走得久，有些人只出現一小段，

但每一段相遇，都是命運偷偷安排的禮物。

甚至，我也想感恩那些

曾讓我受過傷、流過淚的人。

是他們讓我學會看清自己、看懂世界，

讓我知道什麼值得堅持，什麼該放下，

讓如今的我，雖然有傷痕，

卻也多了一份成熟與溫柔。

在感恩節前夕，輕聲說一句：感恩有您

今天，當我寫下「感恩有您」，

心裡其實浮現的是一張又一張臉孔：

父親佝僂的背影、母親忙碌的身影、

愛人溫暖而緊握的那雙手、

孩子天真的笑聲、朋友真誠的眼神、

還有這片土地上，

無數與我擦肩而過、卻曾在某一瞬間

照亮我人生的人。

在感恩節來臨之前，

我想用最真誠的一句話，

獻給所有出現在我生命中的「您」：

感恩有您。

Grateful for You — Written on the Eve of Thanksgiving

As Thanksgiving approaches, my heart always grows softer.

Year after year, walking through wind and rain, I’ve come to understand something more deeply:

The simple fact that I am still here—writing, dreaming, breathing—is not something I achieved alone.

It is the result of countless “you’s” quietly lifting me up along the way.

⸻

Grateful for This Land That Gave Me a Second Life

First, I am grateful for this land called America.

I still remember arriving here with a few suitcases and a heart full of uncertainty.

My English was broken, the streets were unfamiliar, and everything felt foreign. I had to feel my way forward, one hesitant step at a time.

Yet it was on this unfamiliar soil that we:

found our first job,

opened our first small business,

and met our first circle of friends.

This may not be the land where we were born,

but it became the place where we rose again.

It gave a “family with nothing” the chance to rebuild their lives with their own hands.

It gave our children the courage to stand tall and say,

“Here… is my home, too.”

⸻

Grateful for My Father and Family — The Back and the Light

Next, I want to bow deeply in gratitude to my father and my family.

I remembered in my early teenage 

my father is the one who has sat in the audience all this time,

never leaving, always watching, silently cheering.

He may be quiet, even strict at times,

but he is the one who, from the shadows where no one can see,

kept lifting the heaviest burdens onto his own shoulders.

Before dawn, he had already left the house;

long after midnight, he would return softly, not wanting to wake anyone.

When he said, “It’s okay, we’ll get through this,”

behind that sentence were countless days and nights of gritted teeth and silent struggle.

My mother and my family are the softest yet strongest part of my life.

When the outside world felt as cold as a winter night,

they welcomed me home with a hot meal and a simple, “You’re back.”

They might not speak in grand speeches,

but when I failed, they were the ones who sat beside me and cried too;

when I succeeded, their eyes were the first to fill with tears.

I’ve come to see that family means this:

They are the people we sometimes misunderstand, push away, or even argue with,

yet in their hearts, they always keep a light on for us,

waiting for our return.

⸻

Grateful for the One Who Holds My Hand — In This Crowd, You Walk My Way

On this special occasion,

I am especially grateful for the person who has been holding my hand all along.

Those hands may not be delicate or decorated,

but they are the hands that calm my soul the most.

When we first came to this foreign land,

we didn’t know the language, didn’t know the streets,

counted every dollar and worried about tomorrow.

You stood by my side, gently taking my hand,

as if to say, “Don’t be afraid, we’re in this together.”

It doesn’t matter if the wind is strong,

as long as there is someone walking forward with you.

We counted coins together at the supermarket,

worried about rent, tuition, and the children’s future,

and then went home to a tiny kitchen

where we cooked a simple meal and told each other:

“Life may be hard, but as long as I have you, I haven’t truly lost.”

There were times when I was stubborn, impatient, even unreasonable.

You chose to respond not with anger, but with quiet acceptance,

turning storms into gentle ripples.

There were times when you were exhausted, hurt, or silent,

and all I wanted was to stand beside you,

to hold your hand a little tighter,

so you would know:

In this lifetime, I am not just passing through your story — I am here to walk the whole road with you.

Hand in hand, we walked through the days of having almost nothing,

hand in hand, we endured sickness, sleepless nights, and worry,

hand in hand, we watched our children grow and our parents grow old.

Sometimes we are simply walking together at dusk,

saying almost nothing,

just listening to the sound of our footsteps falling in unison.

That quiet sense of peace

is what I call happiness.

In a sea of strangers,

it may seem like just one more pair of hands,

but when they are the hands you know by heart,

even the darkest night becomes bearable,

because you believe that morning will come.

Among all the people I want to say “thank you” to,

there is a place that belongs to you alone:

Thank you for always holding my hand,

for walking with me from nothing to something,

from youth all the way toward gray hair.

⸻

Grateful for Every “You” — Mentors, Friends, and Even Those Who Hurt Me

There are still so many people

to whom I want to say: I am grateful for you.

I am grateful to the mentors and benefactors

who once opened a door for me—

with a word of encouragement,

a single phone call,

or a simple decision of trust—

especially at those moments when I was closest to giving up.

I am grateful to my friends and colleagues

who walked by my side.

When I was lost, they pulled me back;

when I was proud, they reminded me to stay humble.

Some walked with me for many years,

others only appeared for a short stretch,

but every encounter was a gift secretly arranged by fate.

And yes, I am even grateful

to those who have hurt me.

They forced me to see myself more clearly,

to understand the world more deeply,

to discover what is worth fighting for

and what is better left behind.

Because of them,

I stand here not without scars,

but with a little more maturity,

and a lot more gentleness.

⸻

On the Eve of Thanksgiving, a Soft “Thank You”

Tonight, as I write the words “Grateful for you,”

faces rise one by one in my mind:

My father’s stooped back,

my mother’s busy silhouette,

my partner’s warm and steady hands,

my children’s innocent laughter,

my friends’ sincere eyes,

and all those people on this land

who crossed my path and, if only for a moment,

lit up my journey.

On this eve of Thanksgiving,

I want to offer the most sincere words

to every “you” who appeared in my life:

Thank you. I am truly, deeply grateful for you.

Grateful for this land that gave me a second life.

Grateful for my parents and family,

who never abandoned me even in the hardest times.

Grateful for the friends, colleagues, and benefactors

who have walked with me along the way.

Grateful for the loved one

who walks through the crowd hand in hand with me.