Me at Fifty

My name is Hanna Lynn. I'm fifty-eight years old and was the head of the language teaching and research group at the city's key high school before retiring. Chalk dust has whitened my temples, and years of teaching have forged my backbone for nurturing and educating. My spouse passed away when my daughter, Stella Scott, was ten—an acute heart attack, without leaving a single last word. I held his cold hand and sat on a bench in the hospital corridor all through the night. The next day, with red eyes, I taught morning self-study to my students. From that moment on, I became both father and mother, raising Stella into adulthood. Stella was determined and got accepted into the local teachers' college. After graduating, she became a homeroom teacher at an elementary school. Her job was stable, but her temperament resembled her father's—gentle and lacking decisiveness. Now she is eight months pregnant, her belly proudly rounded, and she has to support her back when she walks. This should be the happiest time for the whole family, yet my heart feels heavy, like a stone suspended in the air that won't settle. The source of my unease is my son-in-law, Mario Young. Mario Young was Stella Scott's college classmate from a remote rural village. After graduating, he didn't look for a proper job but instead followed the trend and became an internet celebrity. Every day, he films little snippets of family life in front of the camera. His image is that of a 'struggling youth from the countryside,' always calling everyone 'family.' His tone is so sweet it's almost sickly, especially when he talks to me—'mom this' and 'mom that.' But that smile always feels like a mask stuck to his face, hiding a sharpness in his eyes I can't quite decipher.