Mother has never been a virtuous woman, or the name "Xia Xia" is more suitable for her. Therefore, in order to match the "chivalrous demeanor", whenever I do something wrong or break the "rules", I don't have to talk nonsense and wait on crutches.
I'm really scared of her. Actually, my mom doesn't have to do it. All she needs is a classic quotation of more than ten years: "After a long time, my skin is thick and I feel itchy. I really want to fight!" I dare not say a word. ...
Still the only girl in the family, she has time rules every time she goes out. Sometimes it's only a few minutes away. I'm already on my way, and my cell phone rings just right. "It's still a few minutes away, hurry back!" At my mother's command, I ran with my heart in my hand. ...
However, after the warm red sun went down, there was a change of cicada singing in the quiet and clear moon-no matter whether "Woman Xia" is a woman or not, let alone a mother. This weekend, my "Woman" mother showed her femininity again.
Spring is the season of influenza. That night, the cold suddenly eroded my body, and a cold shiver and sneeze swept me.
"Wear clothes when you are cold." Mother shouted downstairs as usual.
Soon, my body began to burn, my head rose and sank, and my eyelids seemed to be heated by smoke. Seems to feel that something is wrong with me, my mother "jingled" step across and touched my forehead. "Ah, I have a fever!" Mother was surprised. "Stop doing your homework and go to bed early!"
"But there are many benefits ..." I retorted feebly.
"Special circumstances are handled specially!" My mother stopped me with a word, and her tone was full of blame, but her frowning brows were real worries.
How can you not listen to your mother? I have to go back and lie down. Dry mouth is like pinching my neck, torturing me and making me restless in my sleep. However, I always feel that there is a hazy figure sitting around me, which seems to be virtual and real; I always feel a hand reaching out to my forehead, which seems unreal and true. Even though I have a splitting headache, I don't know how painful it really is, but at the moment I really feel like a bird tearing its feathers in despair and want to scream. However, that figure, that thick palm, like a clear spring, soothed my restlessness all night.
The next day, my mother woke up early with rice porridge, and her bloodshot but smiling eyes were looking at me gently, as if to overflow. She said hoarsely, "The fever is gone. Have some rice porridge. Lighter is good for your health. " The voice is soft, as if afraid of scaring me.
I looked at those eyes and waited for a while. I was sleepy and swollen. I didn't seem to sleep well, but something was coming out. I choked up and couldn't say a word. I even thought, is this my mother? The "woman" who only yells at me? I have mixed feelings, as if I were wronged and excited.
I still cried, because my mother is not a young dandelion, she is a brilliant sunflower and a strict woman; But mother is not a "tigress" who can only splash water. She is a kangaroo mother who raises her children. I am the kangaroo in the bag.
I have heard some old people say that newborn calves will worship heaven and earth, which is a kind of gratitude for their birth. Even the cows are grateful. What about my mother's upbringing? That's not a "thank you". The kindness of these ten years can't be easily repaid by a "thank you". I grew up with thorns under my mother's vine. I did get a lot of hot whips, but no one could give my mother another kind of "love" that she poured on me.
I finally know how much hope I have been given under that cane whip. I am not only with that eager "grateful" heart, but also practicing the "grateful" action, aren't I, my dear gentle "female Xia" mother?
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