Today was another day at the gift shop.
It stayed busy from the moment I walked in. One customer was collecting a parcel, another was asking about fish oil, someone else wanted to send vitamins to China. Before I finished helping one person, another was already waiting.
Just before lunch, a lady in her forties came in with her phone in one hand.
"I need fish oil, CoQ10 and calcium," she said.
As we walked around the shelves, she kept taking photos of the products and sending them through WeChat.
A minute later, her phone buzzed.
"Mum says yes to this one."
Then another photo.
Another reply.
Another bottle into the basket.
By the time we packed everything into a shipping carton, it was almost full.
I smiled and asked, "Anything else?"
She looked around for a second before shaking her head.
"No, that's everything."
I hesitated for a moment.
"Nothing for yourself?"
She laughed.
"I'll get mine another time. These are all for my parents."
I carried the box to the shelves at the back, printed the shipping label and sealed it with tape.
For the rest of the afternoon, I kept thinking about that conversation.
Almost every day, someone comes in looking after somebody else.
Parents.
Children.
Relatives back in China.
People never seem to hesitate when it's for family.
When it's for themselves, somehow there's always a "next time."
By the time I got home, my daughter was already at the dining table.
Her maths books, calculator and rough paper had completely taken over one end of the table.
"How was your day?" she asked, without looking up.
"Busy," I said.
"How's maths?"
She sighed dramatically.
"Still maths."
That made both of us laugh.
Dinner didn't take long.
A few Korean side dishes I'd picked up after work, rice from the rice cooker, and soup left over from yesterday.
Simple was good enough.
While we were eating, she started telling me about a question she finally understood after tuition.
I couldn't follow most of the maths.
But I could tell she was pleased with herself.
That was enough.
After dinner, she went straight back to studying.
I packed away the leftovers, rinsed the dishes and wiped down the kitchen bench.
The house was quiet again.
Only the sound of pages turning drifted in from the dining room.
I thought about the lady in the shop.
This morning, she was choosing supplements for her parents.
Tonight, I was making sure my daughter had dinner before another evening of study.
Life feels a little different at this age.
You're still someone's daughter.
You're already someone's mum.
Some days, you spend the whole day quietly moving between those two roles.
Before going upstairs, I looked towards the dining table one more time.
She was still doing maths.
Tomorrow morning, I'd probably call Mum.
There was something I wanted to remind her of.
I couldn't remember what it was.