Walking in this night surrounded by a strong nostalgic atmosphere, looking at the vague sadness on the faces of my neighbors, my heart was touched by a colorful cloud in the distant sky, and a burst of melancholy came to my mind, and I couldn't help but whisper, "Mom!"
"Mom", this is a call from the bottom of my heart, but I will never hear the gentle response. All my thoughts about my mother have turned into strong and indelible homesickness, which has filled my life with endless memories. Let me send my feelings to the paradise in my heart, hoping that the Buddha will bless me and my relatives, lovers and friends!
However, there is a kind of sadness in my heart. I have been a mother for 20 years, and I am amazed at my daughter's ideas. I can't understand why she doesn't understand that what I ask of her is entirely out of a mother's love for her. I don't understand why no matter how much I have done for her, she can't be grateful. I don't understand how children can yell at their parents nowadays. I don't understand why she can't care about her parents and elders like her parents. I silently ask myself, ask heaven, and ask my mother who is separated from me by yin and yang. However, it seems that these are unsolved problems, and I am still surrounded by confusion.
I think of my mother. When have our brothers and sisters ever made our mother cry? As long as I can remember, we never talk back to our mother, never go against her words, never be lazy, always try our best to share the housework for our mother, and we never refuse what our mother asks us to do! In the era of material scarcity, every family lives a poor life, and only when there is a holiday will they improve their lives. However, in my memory, there are six brothers and sisters. Every year, my mother always cooks eggs and noodles for us, but the "birthday girl" will have two more eggs than others. As long as six children and my father are at home, each of them will always have a bowl of egg noodles, but my mother just smiles at us and eats with relish, but never makes herself a bowl. We always give her some, but her mother gives us noodles and eggs back. When the child's filial piety is unbearable, her mother will leave a soup for herself and then drink it happily in front of the child. So our family had a happy day.
Thinking of this, I saw that happy photo again, which represented my childhood. My childhood was soaked with my mother's love. In this ocean of love, my young heart knows how to cherish and be grateful, so I just want to be good to my mother and never lose my temper with her even if I am unhappy.
Mother always talks in the drizzle. She never tells us what to do. Every child of ours is her heart, including my father, and she always whispers to him. Sometimes, I think it is my father's love that makes my mother more gentle, or is it because my mother's natural gentleness that makes us even more afraid to speak ill of my mother? Therefore, our home is always surrounded by warmth. Although life is hard, we feel very happy, and our neighbors envy the warmth of my home.
However, in the outside world, especially in that special historical period, my father was dragged by the rebels to fight in the upper reaches of the street, and no one could imagine my weak mother. She often rushed forward to block the whip for her father, and sometimes she took out a woman's "splashing" strength to scold the streets with those in power who are black and white, which often made those arrogant people lose face and the criticism would go away. So at that time, even if my father wore a few "counter-revolutionary" and "two-faced" hats, we could still enjoy the warmth and beauty of our family when we got home.
Mom is fragile', she can't tolerate others yelling at her, but mom is strong. In those days when right and wrong were reversed, her mother used her weak body to carry those literary attacks and wars, just to safeguard her dear man-my father's unyielding soul and his dignity as a man! Many years later, when I think about my own fate and recall the deep affection of my parents after the bloody case, I know that the only success or failure in life lies in whether I have the truest and most sincere love! So I am more eager for a true love to accompany me through all the seasons.
Walking in the evening of the city on the eve of Tomb-Sweeping Day, the paper dust floating in the air turned my thoughts into enduring memories, and I seriously thought about the precious wealth left by my mother-the virtue of being a woman. I think this is an invaluable treasure given to me by my mother, a precious spiritual wealth that many people in the contemporary era lack, and a wealth worthy of my life's treasure and utilization, but my daughter cannot inherit it. I'm glad I have such a mother, but I'm sorry I can't be the mother my daughter loves.
At this moment, with joy and regret, looking at the colorful clouds set off by the neon of the city on the horizon of my hometown, my heart is full of infinite nostalgia, which makes me just want to go back to the past and the childhood my mother gave me. ...