Today I went back to see my mother getting older and older. She carried a garbage can and paced along with her back. I shouted, "Mom". Mother's face was full of knife-like wrinkles, like crab chrysanthemum, instantly blooming, eyes also have a brilliant. When I went up to grab the garbage can, my mother chattered excitedly, "No, no, not much garbage. Quick in, fast in. I'll get it." As she spoke, she turned around and seemed to walk much lighter. I thought what she would do to me. She was empty-handed and muttered, "Where did you put it?" Or is it finished? In order to cover up the tears that were about to take their place, I rushed into the kitchen, pretending to wash my face, and sprinkled a handful of water on my face with my hands. Mother hurriedly handed over the towel with small steps: "Wipe it fast, wipe it fast." The soft towel dried up the clear water on the face and the tears in the eyes. I feel much better. I grabbed my mother's hand and said, "Come on, Mom, what delicious food have I brought you?" Mother saw the splendid pig's feet, but I could not catch that joy in her face. This was my mother's favorite food in the past. "Son, I may not be able to bite." "Mom, I'll cut it up and press it in a pressure cooker." "No, that's not the smell anymore." "Speak with me!" I put my mother's hand in my hand and listened patiently to her telling hundreds of stories.
I want to be with her like this and listen to her nagging. Is it not a kind of happiness for mother? Is it not a kind of happiness for me? I have my own family, and the distance from my mother is not "a bowl of soup" distance. Seeing my mother leaning against the door and watching me go, is it not an extravagant hope for my mom to have this short happiness? Is it not a luxury for me?
The sudden death of my father made me deeply understand the helplessness of "the tree wants to be quiet but the wind does not stop, and the son wants to be raised but not to be loved". Brothers and sisters always have things to do and money to earn. They always spend money on their mothers. They come and go in a hurry. They don't know when their mother can eat the whole sugarcane and when to cut the sugarcane into small pieces with a knife; they don't know when their mother can bite hickory with her teeth and when to knock it open with a hammer; they don't know when her mother can bite the hoof of a pig and when she has given up her hoof of a pig; they don't know when her mother can bite the hoof a pig. They don't know the loneliness and loneliness of their mothers; they don't know that money can't buy many things; they don't know the truth of "old cows grow old one spring, old people grow old one year".
Looking at my mother in her old age, I am sorry!
