The mother used the needle and thread in her hand to make clothes for her long-distance son. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. Who can say that a filial child like the weak can repay his mother's love like the sunshine in spring?
Mother turned on the dim oil lamp and the light immediately filled the humble room.
In the light, mother trembled and aimed at the eye of the needle again. Again, again, again, again ... mother used that thin needle and long line to get through the hard days day after day.
Every stitch, be careful; Every line is full of affection. Looking at my mother's silver hair and her face washed away by the wind and rain of the years, tears can't help overflowing my tender cheeks. After sewing, my mother tried it again and felt very satisfied. Then she put it on me and buttoned it one by one. My mother choked up and patted me on the shoulder with trembling hands: "Remember the way home, son ..."
I know, I am a native grass, a simple grass in spring. My mother's sunny eyes covered my life. No matter how far I drift, the dim oil lamp in the dark will always be the only direction and concern in my life.
Love is speechless, and I choked again.