Read your daughter's pillow and answer the questions.

The moon is cool and full of the sky.

Mother took a pillow and said, here is a pillow for you.

I took it, looked at it carefully, and then smiled.

This pillow has a blue dome as big as a fist, and uses the popular embroidery process "zipper" decades ago to outline two pumpkin leaves, a five-petal flower and three tendrils. The blue one is surrounded by a circle of four-finger wide fruit green cloth. The red flannel is the body, and two small diamond-shaped cloths are sewn at the junction of the red cloth body and the green pillowcase as decoration. The whole pillow is thick at both ends and thin in the middle, charming, festive and naive, like a chubby beauty holding a small waist.

Reminds me of my little daughter sixteen years ago. She was only one year old when she was sent to the countryside. My mother made the little girl fat in vain, wearing a tightly wrapped cotton-padded jacket and her specially made pants. In this snowy season, the whole person looks like a small stick made of porcelain, with a rosy face like pomegranate seeds and a small red mouth, shouting, "Yeah!" " Dancing, high-spirited.

My mother's hands are very dexterous. She is a green Ying Ge with a red mouth, flying in the farming era of Liu Run, which is full of smoke and dust and fertile soil. If she was born rich, she wouldn't leave Xiulou all day, embroider sachets, draw shoes and make silk overshoes for her brothers and sisters. Even if the family is poor, you can take soles, embroider shoes, make curtains with sorghum poles and make tiger shoes for little dolls.

You see, if any family is going to have a baby, they will call her, "Aunt, make a pair of old tiger-headed shoes for our family." My mother rushed to nod: definitely, definitely.

Then, I watched her take out a piece of cloth from the sewing machine-the worn-out waste cloth stored at home, wash it, stick it layer by layer, smooth it on the roof, dry it, and then remove it one by one for storage. Then take out scissors and break jiaozi:

This kind of old tiger-headed shoes for babies only need a layer of sole, so they don't need to walk. Better be softer, softer. The upper is also made of cloth. Cut out two symmetrical uppers from a shoe. When the two ends touched, a small tiger-headed shoe came out, with two pointed ears showing off.

Then, red and blue silk pieces are made into tiger's head and silver needle-colored thread, as well as curved eyebrows, furry and round naughty eyes, a lovely garlic nose embroidered with white thread, and a grid embroidered with black silk thread on the nose. The round mouth is two red lines, a semicircle above and a semicircle below. Then my mother added some thin beards to the tiger's face. It's strange that she thinks the tiger is a cat.

Her ecstatic humming is like a water mirror, reflecting the quiet and self-sufficient heart of a rural young woman. At that moment, she forgot that there was no surplus grain in the shop and no surplus money under the kang mat. It's almost the end of the year, and the new clothes of adult dolls are still far away. I haven't got a catty of pork. Like a colorful silk thread of a silver needle, you can embroider a beautiful spring like silk. And my frightened heart, which is often knocked over and scolded by her, is also practical and extremely stable, staying by her side, like a cat lying in the sun among flowers.

Now my daughter is in high school, young and proud, and has a heart. People also pull out a long strip, like a bamboo pole covered with green leaves. She is old, I am old, and silver hair is beginning to appear on my temples. My mother is more like an old reed with silver hair and no black hair.

Today, at home, I gradually felt the smell of smoke choking and cried. When I came to my senses, I shouted at the top of my voice: "Mom-Mom-"and "Click". My mother rushed out of the bedroom and repeatedly said, "It's broken!"

I know it's broken without her saying it.

Go out and have a look, she is cooking Chili water again! Forgot to turn off the fire again!

Last night, she cooked Chili water to dry the soup. Fortunately, my husband just went into the kitchen and turned off the fire for her. Looking at today's red-hot wok, I hold up the painful cervical vertebra, and my tone can't be relaxed:

"This kind of thing, pepper water, after this process is saved! Don't be embarrassed again! "

My mother didn't seem to hear me. She turned on the range hood, the tap and the window. The cold northwest wind greeted her. I checked the stove and checked the hidden dangers. After a while, I casually asked, "Why do you want to cook Chili water?"

She turned to look at me and said, "I'm going to make stinky tofu for you ..."

That glance instantly made my heart ached-her wrinkled old face was full of shame.

When was she so old?

As long as I can remember, her cheeks have risen very flat, like a light-shelled egg. Rural women don't know how to dress. They usually only wash their faces with pig pancreas to make her look good. But now her face is sallow and dry, with vertical and horizontal ravines, and the corners of her mouth are ridiculously sunken inward-a unique situation after denture installation-an old woman's face.

Now I suddenly realize: she hasn't lost her temper for a long time, and swearing is like burning charcoal; She has been wearing reading glasses for many years; Embroidering tiger's head shoes seems like a lifetime ago. I don't know when she has been sneaking in front of me.

The countryside is bitter and cold. In recent years, she moved in with her old father and spent the winter with me. At first, she said that it was expensive for me to buy rice and noodles, so it was up to me. I firmly refused. Joke, that's my home. My home. Now that I am shopping, she is no longer picky, and I won't see her yelling at me when I get home from work. She didn't eat when she was lying on the kang-her mother lost her mother at the age of five, and her father, two brothers and a sister were on the bed, so she naturally took pity on her; Married, her father has a mild temper and cherishes her, so it is very common for her to lose her temper. Lying on the kang, "Hum, Hum ..." My father said, holding a rice bowl, "Get up and eat something ..."

After living with me, it's still the same: "hem and hem." My father was paralyzed and couldn't do anything. He looked at me eagerly, so I had to persuade him: "Get up and eat something …" Until she felt that she had received enough care and began to be happy again, and the whole room echoed with her "quack, quack" laughter. I locked myself in my room and banged on the keyboard. ...

She likes noisy, I like quiet, she is light and shallow, and I am heavy. Mother and daughter are really born with different eyes.

But this year, she said everything I bought was good. When I got home, all the hot meals were on the table. Besides, I can hardly feel her presence. Her door was closed and no sound leaked out.

Her life is over, and she has given up all the power of life. Only a little base as small as an egg is reserved, and the Dojo is fully made in this eggshell. I can enjoy a "mother card" rich lunch every day:

A pot of pickled sauerkraut-mustard bumps and radish tassels, washed, shredded, added with water, put it outside in the ice and snow until it is sour, then bring it to the soup and add a little salt flowers. Take a bite, the milk is sour and pleasant, and drink a mouthful of soup, which is cold and refreshing.

A plate of vegetarian dumplings-leek yellow, a little two eggs, vermicelli.

A bowl of pickled cabbage roots-leaves is made by my mother or wrapped in jiaozi, and the roots are pickled for me, knowing that I like this kind of pickled vegetables.

A bowl of noodles in soup-the noodles were rolled by her own hands, with Chili oil and garlic cloves in the pot. Drinking a bowl in cold weather makes me warm all over.

Steamed corn with bean flour and millet flour. She steamed it herself.

Twist-she personally mixed the dough, put brown sugar and fried it herself.

Everything is my favorite. If I hadn't boiled Chili water, I would have eaten my favorite stinky tofu in a few days.

Spending so much outside is not worth a bowl of porridge cooked by my mother.

The food outside is not worth a wowotou.

But I banned boiling pepper water today. Who knows what skills she will be banned on the grounds of age next year? I enjoy the opportunity of my mother's meal, just like money in my hand, I can only spend less and less.

But my mother, why are you ashamed?

You think your aging is shameful, and your powerlessness makes you powerless, but in front of you is your own daughter, and the shame you can't help showing is a kind of flogging and reprimanding for me.

My remorse flashed by, and she immediately restrained her shame, like a piece of ice skin that quickly sank into the water, turned her attention to my neck and tentatively rubbed it: "Does it hurt?"

I don't care to get out of the way: "Nothing, the same old problem." Today, believe it or not, I am not used to any contact with my biological parents. I am a cold-hearted woman.

"Oh." She turned and walked into her room.

I eat, take a lunch break, get up and do things after lunch break, and bury my head at night. She came in, took this pillow and said, this is your pillow.

I hold it, laughing and hurting. God knows how she wore reading glasses, embroidered needles and sewed needles to do this huge project for a 70-year-old man.

City people have foreign pillows and country people have round pillows. I have only seen pillows with a waist in the middle like this in my life. My mother has never studied history or seen a "baby pillow". I didn't know there was a child made of porcelain, barefoot and with a small waist, kneeling there smiling; She was so lucky that she made a "daughter pillow" for a 40-year-old girl. I decided not to sleep with it, but to put a tea room as a clear confession. On the bright yellow couch, it is peaceful and flat, like a white stone in a blue-and-white porcelain basin, and Jiuzhilan grows gracefully.

But she said: "Sleep with a pillow every day to treat cervical spondylosis."

Mother left again and quietly returned to her room.

At four o'clock in the evening, the room was silent.

I held the pillow like a windfall.