感恩有您——写在感恩节前夕

感恩有您——写在感恩节前夕

每到感恩节前夕，心裡总会变得特别柔软。

一年又一年走过风雨，我愈来愈明白：

今天我还能站在这裡写字、做梦、呼吸，都不是理所当然，而是无数「您」默默托着我往前走。

首先，我要感恩的是美国这块土地。

还记得刚来的时候，我们拎着简单行李，英文说不好，路也看不懂，只能一边摸索一边硬撑。

然而，就是在这片陌生的土地上——

我们找到第一份工作、开了第一间小店、交到第一批朋友。

这裡或许不是我们的出生地，却成了让我们东山再起的地方。

它让一个「什麼都没有」的移民家庭，

可以靠双手翻转命运；

让孩子可以抬起头，轻声说一句：

「这裡，也是我的家。」

感恩父亲与家人——背影与灯光

接着，要深深感恩的是我的父亲与家人。

如果说，美国给了我「重新开始」的舞台，

那父亲，就是那个在台下默默守候、不肯离席的人。

想起童年时之奔波流离之日子中,他也许沉默寡言、不善表达，

却总是在我们看不见的角落，

一次又一次把重担扛在自己肩上。

母亲和家人，更是生命裡最柔软却最坚韧的存在。

外面的世界冷得像冬夜时，

他们用一桌热菜、一句「回来啦」，

让我们记起自己不是孤军奋战。

也许他们不会说漂亮话，

却在我们失败时，愿意陪我们一起流泪；

在我们成功时，眼眶比我们更容易泛红。

原来，所谓家人，

就是那群即使被我们误解、嫌弃、顶撞，

却仍然在心裡為我们留一盏灯的人。

感恩爱人牵手——在人海中，有一个人和你同方向

在这个特别的日子裡，

我更想深深地感恩——一路牵着我手的那个人。

那是一双不一定华丽，却最让我安心的手。

当年初到异乡，语言不通、人生地不熟，

口袋裡的钱算着用，未来像一片雾。

是你站在我身旁，轻轻握住我的手，

好像在说：「别怕，我们一起。」

风大一点没关係，

因為有一个人，和你一起往前走。

我们一起在超市细算每一分钱，

一起為房租、学费、孩子的未来烦恼，

也一起在小小的厨房裡煮一锅热汤，

告诉彼此：「日子再苦，只要有你，就不算输。」

有时候，我倔强、固执、脾气大，

你却选择用沉默的包容，把风浪化成波纹；

有时候，你疲惫、心酸、不说话，

我只想在你身旁，轻轻握紧你的手，

让你知道：

这一生，我不是路过你，而是要和你一起走完这一条路。

我们牵着手走过穷日子，

牵着手熬过病痛与失眠，

牵着手看孩子长大、父母老去。

有时只是在黄昏一起散步，

什麼话也不说，只听脚步声一起落在地上，

那种安静的踏实，就是我心中最大的幸福。

在人山人海裡，

不过是多了一双你熟悉的手，

却能让你在最黑的夜裡，

仍然相信明天会亮。

所以，在所有的「感恩有您」之中，

有一个位置，永远是為你保留的：

谢谢你，一直牵着我的手，

陪我从无到有，从青涩到白头。

感恩每一个「您」——贵人、朋友、甚至是伤害过我的人

还有太多人，我想一併说声：感恩有您。

感恩那些给过我机会的贵人——

也许只是一句鼓励、一通电话、一个肯定，

却在我最想放弃的时候，

替我把人生的门又推开了一点点。

感恩一路同行的朋友与同事——

在迷惘的时候，拉我一把；

在得意的时候，提醒我别忘了初心。

有些人陪我们走得久，有些人只出现一小段，

但每一段相遇，都是命运偷偷安排的礼物。

甚至，我也想感恩那些

曾让我受过伤、流过泪的人。

是他们让我学会看清自己、看懂世界，

让我知道什麼值得坚持，什麼该放下，

让如今的我，虽然有伤痕，

却也多了一份成熟与温柔。

在感恩节前夕，轻声说一句：感恩有您

今天，当我写下「感恩有您」，

心裡其实浮现的是一张又一张脸孔：

父亲佝僂的背影、母亲忙碌的身影、

爱人温暖而紧握的那双手、

孩子天真的笑声、朋友真诚的眼神、

还有这片土地上，

无数与我擦肩而过、却曾在某一瞬间

照亮我人生的人。

在感恩节来临之前，

我想用最真诚的一句话，

献给所有出现在我生命中的「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.