When I was born, material life was not abundant. At home, a radio became everyone’s source of entertainment. Especially on Saturdays, after dinner, the whole family would gather in the living room to listen to radio dramas. One particular story still stands out vividly in my memory to this day.

The story is about a lonely veteran, referred to as a “big black bear” because of his dark skin and strength, who made a living by pulling a rickshaw. He came home late and left early every day. One stormy night, because the weather was so bad, he decided to return home earlier than usual. As he passed by a narrow alley, he noticed a small figure lying on the ground in the distance. Curiously, he stopped the rickshaw, got off to take a closer look, and found an almost lifeless woman. With no other choice, he brought her home. This woman was so small, she looked like a little mouse. The little mouse was simply hungry, and after a few days, she regained her health. She began cleaning the messy house, cooking meals, and doing laundry for the veteran. Naturally, she stayed. The big black bear now had a companion and enjoyed the warmth of a family, living happily. Not long after, the little mouse became pregnant. The big black bear worked even harder pulling the rickshaw, smiling widely, and eagerly anticipating a bright future.

One day, when he returned home, everything was surprisingly quiet. He found the little mouse lying on the bed. After asking, he learned that the little mouse had accidentally fallen and miscarried their child. The big black bear completely lost control of himself. He beat the little mouse, calling her a “curse.” He rushed outside, screaming madly, “Heaven, why are you so unfair to me?” From then on, he came home drunk every day and no longer cared whether the little mouse lived or died.

Then, one day, he discovered that the little mouse was gravely ill and on the brink of death. He suddenly realized how serious the situation was. He picked her up and placed her in the rickshaw to take her to the doctor. It was another stormy night. Rain and tears streamed down his face as he pedaled the rickshaw, crying out in pain, “Little mouse, you can’t die!”

As a child, I was completely immersed in the story, and its impact stayed with me. I kept asking my mother, “Will the little mouse die?” My mother patted my head, smiled, and said, “Don’t take it seriously, it’s just a story. Go to sleep now.” That night, I couldn’t fall asleep.

Reflecting on this story from my childhood, I began to understand a deeper lesson about life, one that has since become evident in my own experiences. When we have nothing, life is simpler. But when we experience sweetness and then lose it, it becomes a test. Especially for people like the veteran, who live simply without expecting much, ‘gains’ are rare, but ‘losses’ are unbearable.

The most valuable lesson I’ve learned is that parenting ends when children grow up—a fundamental law of nature. Letting go of my children wasn’t just about giving them the freedom to fly—it was about acknowledging my own fears of losing something precious. My daughter once said to me, “If you don’t trust me, then you’re not a good mother and didn’t teach me well.”

Now, as I age, I’ve come to realize that ‘gains’ are not always a blessing, and ‘losses’ are not necessarily bad. The most dangerous thing is when the fear of gains and losses unconsciously controls our thoughts and causes us to forget the original reason for our actions. What’s truly important is learning to cherish what we already have. If we maintain a grateful heart, we will feel abundant, and life will be much calmer and happier. Just like that small radio that accompanied me through countless nights, it left a beautiful mark on my childhood.