An article praising maternal love

Author: unknown article source: Newspeak hits: 620 Update time: February 26, 2006

All rights reserved by www.fy66.net, a happy home. Please indicate the author and source. Thank you for your cooperation!

Press]

Motherly love is primitive emotion. Motherly love is like a mountain! A great mountain, a lofty mountain, a heavy mountain ... Only when we understand our mother's love can we love ourselves and make our future shine! The following provides a set of articles expressing maternal love as a resource to carry out comprehensive reading activities.

Motherly love is speechless

Shun Zhang

I have heard two stories about my mother.

One happened between a homeless man and his mother. The vagrant left his hometown when his family visit expired, and his mother sent him to the station. At the station, the strap of my son's travel bag suddenly broke. Seeing that she was leaving, the mother quickly took off her belt and wrapped up her son's trip. She blushed because of impatience and hard work when she untied her belt. The son asked his mother how to get home, and her mother said, it doesn't matter, take your time.

For many years, my son has been carrying his mother's belt with him. For years, my son has been thinking about how his mother walked home without a belt.

Another story happened between a prisoner and his mother. On the day of visiting the prison, two old mothers from poor mountainous areas came to visit their sons. Among the colorful articles of tourists; The old mother took out sunflower seeds wrapped in white cloth for her son. Sunflower seeds were fried, and the old mother ate them all. No skin, shiny like a dense bird tongue.

The son who served his sentence took this pile of sunflower seeds and his hands began to shake. Mother was speechless, lifted her skirt and wiped her eyes. She went all the way to visit her son and sold eggs and piglets. How much did she have to save to make up the return fee? Before I came, I worked hard all day and ate melon seeds under kerosene lamps at night. Chewed melon seeds together, like a hill, grow little by little, and no one wants to eat them by himself. More than ten kilograms of melon seeds have been on for many nights.

The son who served his sentence hung his head. As a strong young man, it's time to support his mother, but he can't. Of all the people who visited the prison, his mother's clothes were the worst. Mother's bite of melon seeds contains a thousand words. The son plopped down in front of his mother, and he regretted it.

Once, a friend of my age complained to me about my mother, saying that she was illiterate, ignorant, ignorant and nagging. So I told him these two stories. After listening, his eyes were hazy and he couldn't speak for a long time.

(Selected Works of Chinese Intensive Reading in Junior High School edited by Nie Jin (Volume I), Hubei Dictionary Publishing House)

Mother's heart

Ye Qingcheng

My friend told me that her grandmother was old and weak.

My grandmother didn't know my grandfather at first, and resolutely banned this "strange man" from going to her bed. The wife who has slept with her for 50 years has to sleep in the living room. Then one day grandma went out and disappeared. Finally, with the help of the police station, the family finally got her back. It turned out that grandma was bent on finding her childhood home and refused to admit that her present home had anything to do with her.

Coaxed and deceived, she finally persuaded her grandmother to stay, but forgot that she had brought up her nephews and nieces since childhood, thinking that they were a group of wild children and came to rob her of food. She hit them with a cane and protected her rice bowl with one hand: "Go away and don't eat my food." Let the whole family laugh and cry.

Fortunately, grandma also knows someone-a friend's mother, and remembers that she is her own daughter. Every time I see her, I always smile and call her "Mao Mao, Mao Mao". At dusk, I moved a stool and sat downstairs, nagging: "Why doesn't Mao Mao finish school?" -Even He Miaomiao's daughter graduated from college.

Grandma's family is right in this matter. If she wants to go back to her home, she will threaten her: "If you make trouble again, Mao Mao will not want you." Grandma will be quiet soon.

One National Day, a guest came from afar. My friend's mother personally cooked a home-cooked meal to entertain the guests. Grandma has a very strange action at the dinner table. Whenever a dish is served on the table, grandma will be alert to spy around and sneak around, just like a child who is ready to steal candy. Finally, judging that no one paid attention to her, grandma put a big chopstick dish in her pocket in full view. Both the host and the guests were shocked, but they pretended not to see each other, only grandma herself, as if believing that she had done it very cleverly and secretly, and showed a cheerful smile. That meal was ... it was a little difficult.

After the last dish was served, my friend's mother was so busy that she came out of the kitchen, picked up some leftovers from the plate and asked the guests if they had eaten. At this time, my grandmother got shot and got up. -she grabbed her daughter's hand and pulled hard. Her daughter was puzzled and had to get up to accompany her.

Grandma pulled her daughter to the door all the way, warily blocked everyone's sight with her body, then fished in her pocket, smiled and took out the food just hidden inside and stuffed it into her daughter's hand: "Mao Mao, I specially left it for you, you eat, you eat."

My daughter was holding a pile of mixed and squeezed food in her hand. After a long time, she looked up and saw her mother's smiling face. She suddenly cried.

The disease cut off all the connections between grandma and the world, and made her forget all the connections and all the dear people in her life. The only thing that can't be cut is the blood relationship between mother and daughter. Her soul has slowly died under the erosion of disease, but it is her mother's heart that will never die.

(Selected Works of Chinese Intensive Reading in Junior High School edited by Nie Jin (Volume I), Hubei Dictionary Publishing House)

Lead mom across the street.

anonymous

Going home with his wife and children on the weekend afternoon, my mother, who is nearly sixty years old, is a little overwhelmed. She must go out and buy some delicious food to entertain us. Mom said, "when you come back, mom will cook for you." This is not a burden, this is fun! " I said, "I'll go with you!" Mom said cheerfully, "OK, OK, you can buy whatever you say."

To get to the market, you need to walk on the sidewalk and then cross the street. It is the off-duty time, and the cars are coming and going in the street, and the crowds are surging. As I get older, my mother's legs look clumsy. She walked beside me with a vegetable basket, gossiping about her parents. I listened to her patiently. Can children still not listen?

Cross the road and you will find the food market. Mother stopped suddenly. She held the basket in her arms and made her right hand reach out to me. ...

In a flash, my heart trembled: what a familiar action this is!

When I was in primary school, I had to cross a road to school every day. Mother works in a packaging factory. The school is in the east of the city and the factory is in the west. My mother is worried about my accident. You have to see me off every day, and you have to see me across the street before you turn around and go back to work. When crossing the road, she always extends her right hand to me, holds my little hand in her palm and leads me across the road. Then he bent down and told me over and over again, "Don't cross the road when there is a car coming" and "Cross the road with others" ...

More than 20 years have passed, and the small hands of the past have grown into a pair of big hands of men. The mud-rock road in the past has been improved into a cement road. In the past, young mothers had wrinkled faces and thin fingers, but they were still so skilled in holding hands. She has suffered a lot in her life and suffered a lot, all of which were swept away by her hair, but she can never erase her love for her son.

I didn't pass my hand, but stretched out a hand to take the basket from her arms and hold it in my hand. The other hand gently held her hand and said to her, "When I was a child, you held me every time I crossed the road. Let me hug you today! " Mother's eyes flashed with surprise and her smile rippled, like an old farmer facing a bumper harvest of farmland, like a fisherman carrying a heavy fishing net. ...

("Basic Practical Ability Test" Language (Jiangsu Education Experimental Edition in the First Grade) Knowledge Publishing House)

Mother's feelings

Liang Yi Li Guozheng

My name is Kang Zhongqi, and I'm a winder in the electric control factory of Sanye Denso Company. I am 47 years old. One day in June, 1979, 1 1, my 8-year-old son felt that his left ear was ugly when he took the final exam. I took him to the doctor. Because of the doctor's extreme irresponsibility, he left his son with lifelong pain-a medical accident, which caused his ears to be completely deaf.

I took my young child around the hospital in Beijing and Shanghai and found many experts and professors, but the child's illness did not improve. In Shanghai, in despair, I once asked a doctor to transplant my auditory nerve to a child. The doctor said, "We understand that you love your child, but if something goes wrong with the operation, won't you miss your mother?" ……"

Children who are only 10 years old have since entered a silent world.

After returning from treatment in Shanghai, Xiao Chuhui's speech was slurred. As the saying goes, "ten deaf and nine dumb", the disappearance of hearing has seriously damaged his language ability. I took the advice of others and prepared to send him to a school for the deaf. That morning, when I took him to the gate of the school for the deaf, he burst into tears and said, "Mom, I won't go to the school for the deaf, I will forget the language." What if you have good ears and can't talk? "The child's begging made me tremble and grieve. I took his hand and left there.

After returning to his original school, he was deaf and could not hear the teacher's voice, so he could only read textbooks. In order not to make him lose his language ability, I tried my best to teach him to read my mouth, sentence by sentence, and write with a pen if he didn't understand. But I have only been in school for seven years, and I can still tutor in the first grade. In the second grade, it is even more difficult. I have to tutor him while studying. I gradually realized that people are likely to encounter all kinds of misfortunes in their lives. As a mother, no matter how sad you are, you should shoulder your responsibilities. I am determined to use my mother's endurance to ignite the spark of hope in her heart. But 1984, the child finally failed the high school exam because of illness.

This is what I expected, but the child is in great pain. In order to summon up his courage, I found the book Helen Keller from a medical professor. I said to the child, "Helen's eyes, ears and mouth are not working well." You are much better than her. Helen has teacher Anne, and mother is your teacher. You trust your mother, and you must be trained as a college student. "The child jumped into my arms and my skirt was wet with tears.

From then on, I chose a rugged narrow path full of thorns.

One night, my aunt and uncle came to my house with a newspaper. On entering the door, his uncle said, "I have good news for you. The Chinese Department of Liaoning College of Literature has recruited correspondence students. " As soon as I discussed it with my child, I signed up the next day.

1985 65438+ 10, the school of arts started. Face to face every Sunday. But children can't hear the teacher's voice and see the teacher's mouth clearly. What should we do? We thought about it, but there was no good solution. Suddenly, an absurd idea came to my mind: I'm going to give him a lesson.

From then on, I took my son's hearing card and crossed the university gate with a feeling of anxiety.

At first, someone always asked me, "Why are you still studying at your age?" I always "look around"

He doesn't want to say that he is studying for his son, let alone that my son is deaf. It is difficult to explain a mother's thoughts clearly in a few words.

At that time, the correspondence station was located in Anshan commercial secondary school, and it took more than 20 miles to go back and forth. For two and a half years, I haven't missed a class in hot summer or cold winter. I always sit in the front row and listen carefully when listening to lectures. Even if the teacher tells a joke to supplement the text, I will try to write it down and tell it to the children at home. I try to bring children's thinking into the classroom. My cultural background is poor, and it is extremely difficult to contact college textbooks. Ancient Chinese, in particular, made me dizzy and confused.

But if I can't learn, how can I teach my children?

Every time after class, I always ask questions with the teacher. At noon, all the other students went to eat, leaving me alone in the classroom, eating dry bread and making up the questions the teacher said. What I feel most distressed is not money, but time. Time is so precious for me, who is about to turn 50!

My team implements the piecework wage system. The workload is very heavy every day. I have to cook and wash clothes when I get home from work. After dinner, I want to go to bed early and rest and watch TV. But I can't! Starting at eight o'clock every night is our study time, and nothing can be occupied. At home, tables and beds are filled with reference books such as Ci Hai and Shuo Wen Jie Zi. Some books are too small, so I have to use a magnifying glass and reading glasses. Niangs study until midnight every day.

1985 on a Sunday in winter, it snowed heavily, and the wind rolled snowflakes on the window, making a rustling sound. I have a bad cold and my whole body aches. I feel terrible. However, seeing the schoolbag prepared by the child and the expectant eyes, I got up hard and dragged my heavy body to school. Come back at night, the children have been waiting for me by the roadside. As soon as the two girls met, he held me in a straight circle. In an instant, all my pain disappeared completely. The fun is hard for others to experience.

On another occasion, the child's father was on a business trip. I left my key at home when I went to class. In the evening, I braved the snowstorm and pushed my bike back from school step by step. It doesn't matter how you knock. I was cold, hungry and tired. I sat on the stone outside and looked at the lights in the upstairs window. All kinds of complicated feelings came to my mind. It was not until the child felt something was wrong and looked down from the window that he found the exhausted mother. When he entered the room, he shook my hand with tears in his eyes. This situation made me forget all the fatigue. Perhaps, only the mother in the world can taste endless sweetness from the unspeakable bitterness.

For us, learning is like climbing a mountain, and every step is difficult. Once, I taught him the meter of poetry, and I couldn't explain it clearly. Speak with your mouth, and some mouths are not allowed; Write with a pen, some meanings are incomprehensible. The child was impatient and simply pushed the book aside and said, "it's so difficult, I won't learn." If I am not deaf, why bother ... "When I heard that, my heart was very sad, and tears filled my eyes like broken beads. The child was frightened and plopped down on his knees: "mom, mom, I was wrong." I won't make you angry. I will study hard ... "I dried my tears and held him tightly in my arms.

1in June, 1985, the College of Arts held its first examination. That day, I sent my child to the examination room and said to the invigilator, "This child is hard of hearing. If you have anything, please write to him with a pen. " Then, I took the child's hand and encouraged him to say, "I wish my son success!" " "He nodded and said," Mom, don't worry! "As a result of the examination, Chu Hui scored 965 points, 438+0 points and 94 points respectively in ancient prose and literary theory, ranking high among the students and being praised by the dean.

1986 ended, and Chuhui took four exams at once. On February 8, 65438, the exam was released. With a nervous and expectant mood, I hurried to school to have a look at the list. When I saw that my child had passed all four subjects, I almost jumped up with joy, got on the bus and ran home desperately. As soon as I entered the room, he jumped on me and hugged me. My mother and I tossed and turned happily until we were tired and fell on the bed. On that day, my children and I cried.

1On June 28th, 987, the child passed the last lesson, and several years of hard work and dedication finally paid off. In order to lay a good foundation, he also took the self-study exam and has obtained nine certificates of completion. And taught myself calligraphy, painting, seal cutting and bonsai art. I know this is just the beginning of a child's life. He still has a long way to go. But no matter what, I will go with him, and I will see him become a useful person with my own eyes. Even if I close my eyes, my heart is clear.

(Excerpted from August 1987 Metallurgical News)

Motherly love is both a boat and a shore.

Han Jingting

In May of that year, I returned to my hometown after a long absence and knocked on my door. I heard the slow sound of the old man's shoes dragging on the ground through the door; Time is an old problem. "Who is it?" "me." Finally hesitated. Mom, mom, can't you recognize your son's voice? Can't you guess that it was you who kept the bird for 23 years?

The door creaked and opened a narrow gap. Oh, mom! Mom's eyes!

Those eyes, lift them slowly. The old man's eyes were smoked by fire. He worked hard and often cried. His eyes were drooping and dry. A large lacrimal sac hangs from the lower eyelid. Looking at the son in uniform, confused, judging, frozen. I really don't know him.

"Mom!" I called "Mom", and the light in my mother's eyes trembled at once, and her lips trembled, with tiny wrinkles. She asked herself: Who is it? Is it Jingting? My eyes are full of tears.

Motherly love is like this. She is the most selfless, selfish, noble and intolerant person in the world. The most sincere, the warmest, the gentlest, the kindest and the longest, dear. A mother selflessly dedicated half her life to her son, and selfishly longed to tie her son with the red rope of love. Mothers bring up their children with lofty hardships and intolerance, exaggerate their small advantages and even defend their weaknesses. Her love will last until her death, and it will become calcium in children's bones, salt in blood and alkali in sweat. My mother stared at me. At this time, I suddenly thought of the "Wanger Mountain" I had seen in Zhangjiakou, Bashang, Changkangyu and eastern Shandong. Probably, there are "Wanger Mountain" all over the world, and there are mothers who are looking forward to wandering away from home every day. Mom is still staring at me. Those hazy tears!

Suddenly I thought of how to get there in a week, and my son was a little selfish. I'm afraid I have to say "go" and make my mother sad.

I remember 10 years ago I hurried back and left in a hurry. At the dawn before I left, I woke up in my dream and heard sobbing in the kitchen. Get dressed and get up, I saw my old mother bending over to add fire to the stove and crying.

"Mom, it's only 4 o'clock. It is still early. Why are you busy cooking? "

"You love chopped green onion cakes, and you love to eat them."

If the son likes to eat the monkey head and bear's paw, the mother will go over the mountains to find it! On the day when I came home, my mother took out green apricots for a while in her big breast pocket, and then went to buy popcorn. She also regarded the 40-year-old soldier as a child. I can't stand green apricots, popcorn, chopped green onion cakes with tears and parting moments.

Mother turned out to be a strong-willed and grumpy person. She was sold as a child bride when 14 years old. The year I was born, my father was framed and imprisoned. My mother led a man and a woman left by my father's ex-wife, and reluctantly put me in a reed mat and abandoned me in the wild. Thanks to my neighbor's aunt, she picked me up and advised her to support me. I secretly hate my mother for this. When I was a child, someone made fun of me and said, hey, where are you from? A mouth that fell from a tree? I said maliciously: I picked it up from a mass grave, and she is a stepmother! Understanding your mother also takes time and space, but understanding requires parting. In my impression, my mother doesn't seem to care much about my long trip. /kloc-left home at the age of 0/9 and went to Beijing to study. Graduation from college coincided with ten years of catastrophe and was sent to work on the farm. In those sad days, I worked as a plow and a carriage, and people were neither ghosts nor ghosts. When cleaning up the class team, everyone is in danger. I haven't written home for three months. Mother wrote a letter, and the crooked words were smeared on the paper-

"Static whether, are you kidding? Have you become a counter-revolutionary? If you become a counter-revolutionary, go home. I won't let you do anything, I'll feed you ... "My tears fell on the stationery.

Mom, mom, your arms are your son's last and most reliable nest! Your eyes will always be the harbor where my ship of life is moored! I remember coming home one time later, and you said, "When you get old, you will know that you can't bear to part with your son." Said with tears.

But you always have to go. You must leave your mother's arms. You are a soldier. But you still can't look at mom's rickety back and tearful eyes. You didn't look at your mother's tears, but you always have her eyes in your heart.

At that time, I understood that my mother's eyes can be treasured. A son can always take his mother's eyes far away.

I helped my mother into the dark hut. There is an indescribable smell in the room that makes me feel kind, feel smaller and become a child again. My 70-year-old father sat there in a daze, speechless, without tears, joy or sadness. My father suffered from cerebral thrombosis and was paralyzed and aphasia. I saw my mother feed my father with a spoon. I saw her carrying her father to relieve herself with her short and clumsy body; I saw her cleaning her father's bedroom. My mother silently bears the burden of family and life, and rarely tells me in her letters that the family burden is heavy.

I feel guilty. Unfilial, you unfilial son! But you still have to go.

In a blink of an eye, it is the day to leave home! I don't know how to tell my mother the meaning of leaving. I just dawdled about packing. I can feel my mother's eyes on my back. Parting is probably the most painful moment for mankind. Remember, the last time I went to my house, the jeep moved. I never expected my elderly mother to stumble behind the car on the slope outside the door. She shouted:

"There is something wrong with your leg! Wear more clothes in cold weather! "

Later, my mother gave me more than twenty pairs of felt and plush insoles. I don't know how my mother's dim eyes can see such small and dense stitches.

Later, my mother gave me a pair of camel hair cotton trousers with rabbit skin on the knees and buttocks. She didn't know that she didn't have to wear this kind of camel hair rabbit skin cotton trousers for three or nine days in Beijing. It was so hot that it had to be put at the bottom of the box. In order to make my mother's eyes feel a little relieved and less worried, I lied in my reply that those cotton trousers were particularly comfortable and I wore them all winter.

Can a lie repay a mother? But what child in the world wouldn't lie to his mother?

I lied to my mother that I would be right back. I lied: your daughter-in-law and grandson will come. I said that maybe Mid-Autumn Festival, New Year's Day and Spring Festival would definitely come ... My mother listened quietly without saying a word. Her eyes answered me, son, I don't believe it! "

In my opinion, the hardest parting is a wanderer's farewell to his white-haired mother. See each other less, don't you? On the day I left, I really didn't dare to look at my mother's white hair and tears. I arranged for many classmates and relatives to appease my mother. Some people say that when the bus comes, I run every day, rush out the door and get on the jeep. The moment the car door closed, I, a 40-year-old soldier, cried. I looked out of the window with tears in my eyes, but-mother didn't go out to see her son off. She didn't send me in tears.

I can easily imagine my mother's mood at the moment. Her son left her, and she couldn't stand the pain; A soldier bid farewell to his hometown and returned to the barracks. She had to endure the pain. Oh, mom, I know, I'm still in your eyes, and your tearful eyes will always be your son's harbor. But you, the son of a soldier, love his boat and must sail to the distant shore. Must sail far. Yes, you must.

(Zhuang Wenzhong, Zhang Modern Chinese Extracurricular Reading, Jilin People's Publishing House)

Mom's hand

Zhuangyin

The dream of a foreign land is almost real in MengMeng. I hurried back to Taiwan Province last autumn. When I came back, the scenery in my dream was blurred. Old friends, new friends and relatives are fading away, leaving my mother alone, making me look like Mount Tai and filling my dreams.

That night, I dreamed of my mother. Mother was born in vilen. Backed by sunset, ancient roads, bamboo buildings, cooking smoke, distant mountains and great rivers, I look up at the celestial pole as vast as Yuan Ye. In the blue sea and blue sky, there is a kite like a whale, which floats and sinks. Mother holds the thread tightly in her hand, and the winding thread is her white hair. In an instant, the wind blew hard, the smoke in the kitchen dissipated, the sunset disappeared, the ancient road disappeared, the distant mountains fell into the boundless sky, and the sound of the river drowned the mother's words ... The image of the mother gradually faded; My eyes stared at her-my hands, those big hands, covered everything I could see with tears. That hand, I walked into the door of this world; Those ten fingers are the candlelight on the top of the mountain, which makes my world without the light and heat of the sun.

My mother's hand, in my first strong impression, is to punish my hand. It is inevitable that children will be scolded and beaten by adults, but I don't remember any scenes where mothers beat them. Even the most common spanking is gone. Even so, mother's punishment is worse than spanking, and she has a unique skill. When I said the trick, she pulled it hard at the same time-picked it up and twisted it painfully. Pulling or twisting may be the usual way for Chinese mothers to give up boys. Except for the cruel method that the stepmother has no comment on the "little bitch" who comes out of the closet, the general loving mother will always come out of this kind of situation under the psychological pressure of wanting her son to become a dragon.

My mother, like hundreds of millions of mothers in the world, is "deeply in love and conscientious" to me. Especially when I was a child, the country was in trouble, and the people were robbed and left their homes, which made mothers more strict with their children, eager to love them, and demanded more and more of them. My mother's love for me is not my mother-in-law's love for Wu Mu, but in this turbulent era, my mother, like any Chinese mother who fled the home front, can show affection and love for her children in the years to come. In Anshun, Guizhou, one year, a guest came from afar, and the mother prepared several dishes, which was a golden opportunity for the children to have a "rare sumptuous food". Because I was greedy, I filled half a bowl of rice more than usual, but after two bites, I said I couldn't eat anything. Across the table, I looked at my mother in fear. Her expression was calm and dignified. She said to me, "Eat it and don't stay." I shook my head, and my mother's face turned to disappointment and resentment, but she still said faintly, "Then go down and set the dishes." Before the last banquet of adults, I stole a glance at my mother from time to time, but her face never showed. Don't laugh. My mother can't control the long-term pressure when the guests quit at night. She dragged me over, pressed me on the bed mindlessly, twisted my arm and kept saying, "Why can't you eat any more and still be full?" It's not easy to eat enough. Do you know that there are still children begging in the street? "After pulling and twisting, I saw my mother sitting on the bed sobbing. Since then, there has been no rice left in my rice bowl.

Of course, my mother's hand has its own delicate side in my feelings. At that time, all the clothes, pants and socks of a family of six were washed by their mothers. Pour a pot of hot water into a big wooden basin, and then put about three cold water washbasins, a washboard, a soap foot or a piece of yellow soap, and the clothes will be turned up between her fingers-F. At that time, Anshun had no running water, so people who lived in the yard with wells could use it, and those without wells needed to buy water. There are water sellers carrying two buckets of water (covered with lotus leaves) in the streets of the city all day long. We belong to strangers who want to buy water. In cold weather, my mother washes clothes in front of the porch under the eaves. She always blushes and washes one by one with difficulty and silently. I often peek at paper windows with holes. Before washing, mother always carefully takes off the wedding ring on her ring finger. By the time the washed clothes were hung on the bamboo pole on the porch, her fingers were red and swollen with cold. I didn't know until I grew up that in those years after marriage, my mother lived a rich "housewife" life, and my eldest brother, my third brother and I were all led by a wet nurse. However, under the baptism of July 7th artillery fire, mother's delicate hands have been thoroughly remoulded and become thick and powerful enough to cope with any hardships.

It is also those hands covered with thick and hard cocoons, under the dim oil lamp, supervising our brothers' study without relaxation. Rough and fragile papyrus books, one after another, page after page, turned between her fingers like a calendar. In the third grade of primary school, I failed because of my poor homework. I remember when I handed my report card to my mother, I didn't have the courage to look at her face. I looked down and saw my mother holding the "Historical Records" hand, shaking worse than myself. However, unexpectedly, those hands pressed gently on my head, and I heard my mother say calmly, "Never mind, I hope I can work harder next year." I can't remember exactly how long I stood, but I will always remember the deep impression left by those hands.

On winter nights, the fire gradually goes out, and the air in the room is more Han Xiao. After we went to bed, my mother sat by the fire and began to mend our clothes and socks by the dim light. Sometimes she puts on thick cloth soles with an awl, and then passes hemp ropes through pinholes and tightens them one by one. That painful bear is probably the overdraft she got from wearing new shoes on our feet!

However, in those years, there were still many times when my mother was always in high spirits. On this occasion, she will take the initiative to take out Yuping Xiao and a flute brought from Peiping and play a song. The songs that her mother often plays are Hugging the Tiger, Lin Chong Running at Night, Dream in the Garden and Moonlit Night on the Spring River. Those hands, jumping so lightly on every scale, are so beautiful and talented.

When I went back to Taiwan Province last summer, I noticed that my mother's hands had more stripes and trembled slightly. The wedding ring looks a little loose. One morning, it was just me and my mother at home. I went to the kitchen to make tea and poured her a cup. When I put the cup in her hand, I saw those hands so close for the first time, but I was afraid to touch them easily. In an instant, those hands became so huge that I found the unchanging strength for Yunyue, who will leave Taiwan Province for three days and eight thousand miles. Mother's hands have never been coated with chlamydia, and she has never rubbed any cosmetic crystals. Only in this way, is a pair of perfect hands.

(Zhuang Wenzhong, Zhang Modern Chinese Extracurricular Reading, Jilin People's Publishing House)

Notes of single mothers

a surname

I wrote this in Beijing two years ago. I was going to let my son read it later, but I never wanted to publish it. Until one day, I overheard my son "tamper" with a short message. There is a passage "read first, recite later" in the Chinese book of grade one in primary school: "Dad is a big tree, and mom is a big tree.