I remember when I was a child, you dressed up in front of the mirror and your dexterous hands danced up and down your long hair. I called you, and you looked back with a smile. The moth's eyebrows are pale and her eyes are bright. Your lips slightly open to answer me. Purple clothes, like clouds on the temples, have become the beauty that will be fixed forever in my heart.
However, time and tide wait for no man, and the original young woman finally became the housewife who ran the family. A word difference makes you lose light makeup and fancy clothes. Time has brought you wrinkles, spread them evenly on your flowery face. You are no longer young. Youth has put away the gift she gave you, and your beauty has turned yellow.
I am very upset about this. Your beauty has always been my pride in front of my companions, but you began to nag and ask some trivial things.
I don't know when I began to hate breakfast. However, you think your cooking is not delicious enough, so you find many recipes: nutritious meals and appetizers, and present me with exquisite breakfast in different ways every morning. But I am ungrateful and still have no appetite for a table of food. One morning, you finally changed your gentle face and became angry with me. Spoiled, I suddenly felt wronged and raised my hand to knock over a table of vegetables. The expected "storm" is coming. You just have to go into the kitchen, pick up the cooker and start cooking again. The kitchen is sultry in summer, and I can clearly see that the wrinkles on your forehead are covered with sweat. Shining in the light stings my eyes.
I suddenly feel very sorry for you. No matter how I lost my appetite, I always had a full breakfast. Gradually, I have meat on my face and look fat.
Looking at some slim girls in the class, I feel a little overweight and can't help complaining to you again.
Until one day, a female classmate in the class didn't come to class. "I often skip breakfast and get stomach trouble." This is the doctor's diagnosis of her. It suddenly occurred to me how much you objected to my skipping breakfast, and I realized your good intentions. I'd rather be fat than suffer from stomach trouble.
I decided to apologize for knocking over the food.
I went home, put down my schoolbag and went to the kitchen. When I call you, you turn around quickly, frowning and sweating: "What are you doing in the kitchen? There are watermelons on the table in such a smoky place. Go to eat, finish your homework quickly, review later, and go out! " You talk too fast and always stop me from apologizing. I glanced at you again before I went out. You wipe the sweat off your head with greasy hands.
You are really not beautiful anymore. You traded your youth for my beautiful youth, but I found a kind of beauty in you that has nothing to do with looks: you selflessly exhausted everything for me just to watch me grow sturdily. Your sternness and gentleness are for me, for your daughter!