Motherly love is like a mountain —— Mothers written by celebrities

"Where there is a mother, there is home" (excerpt)

Author/Jia Pingwa

After forty years old, my ambitious career and love suffered setbacks and frustrations in decades, and I realized that being a son was wrong.

The greatness of a mother lies not only in giving birth to a son of flesh and blood, but also in her not expecting his return. No matter how far away from her and how close she comes back, she will always let her son have affection, strength, roots and roots. On the road of life, my mother is a gas station.

My mother has been in the countryside all her life. She has no culture and is not good at speaking and talking. The plane only looks at the shadows in the sky. She doesn't know what I'm doing in a distant city. The only thing she knows is that I can write. She said that when I was writing, my eyes kept blinking and I was worried about my suffering. "Can I finish writing in the world?" ! "Stop me again and again.

A few years ago, every time my mother stayed in the city, she always sewed winter clothes for me and my children. The cotton pad is so thick that I am always afraid of catching cold. As a result, my children and I dressed as clumsy as bears.

She is not used to city life. She hates eating too much oil, too many people and the lights in the living room don't go out. When things were old, she threw them away and said, "Life is not the whole country." The most unbearable thing is that we beat and scold children. If the children don't cry, she cries. After a fight with me, she went back to her hometown angrily.

My mother comes happily every time and goes back angrily every time. Back, I didn't miss her, and I didn't even dream about her at night year after year.

When I was proud, I forgot my mother's existence. When I am wronged, I want to tell my mother to cry in front of her.

Every year when the plum blossoms in the yard are ripe, she always picks some for me and asks someone to take them to the city. No one went to town, but she kept them for me. "She loves sour fruit", and she has to nag for a long time, and Mei Li will stay until she is completely rotten.

She's at my sister's house. I'm going to see her. Without saying a few words, he was called to a small room. I must drink bottled cold water. I can't do it if I don't drink it. I asked what happened, and she said that the teacher gave her good water to cure all diseases. "If you want to drink it, you may get better after drinking liver disease!" I drank half a cup, and then she gave me apples and oranges, saying they were good fruits.

I can't be an expert celebrity, and my mother has never paid much attention to it. She doesn't know the glory of my work, so I won't tell her my troubles and anguish at work.

When she learned that I was sick alone in the hospital, she was so sad that she cried and wanted to come to see me in the city. My sister-in-law won't let her come and take her. She was very angry and scolded this and that at home. Later, she braved the storm. Her eyes were seriously ill, but she cried and said, "What is my baby's life?" ! "

My father passed away. As the eldest son, I should worry about this family and let my mother live happily in her later years. But now I can't take care of my mother, but I make her worry about her son. What kind of son am I doing?

I saw my mother out of the hospital and watched her get in the car and go back. I still gave her my only money. I said that money can't replace filial piety, but I can only do this now!

Acacia is still there, but mom is not (excerpt)

Author/Shi Tiesheng

Twenty years old, disabled in both legs. I think I should do something besides drawing eggs for others. I changed my mind several times and finally wanted to learn to write.

Mother was not young at that time, and for my legs, my head began to have white hair. The hospital has made it clear that my condition cannot be cured at present. My mother's whole mind is still on treating me, asking doctors for remedies everywhere and spending a lot of money.

She can always find some strange medicine for me to eat, drink or wash, compress, smoke and moxibustion.

"Don't waste time! It's useless at all! " I said, preoccupied with writing novels.

"Try again. How do you know if it's useful without trying? " She said that every time, she held the hope devoutly. However, I was disappointed in my leg many times, just as I hoped. For the last time, my crotch was burnt by smoke.

The doctor in the hospital said it was a real hanging, which was almost fatal to the paralyzed patients. I'm not too scared. I wish I was dead, but I'm glad I am.

My mother was scared for months and stayed with me day and night. As soon as she changed her dressing, she said, "How can it be hot? I am still paying attention? " Fortunately, the wound is getting better, otherwise she would go crazy.

Later she found out that I was writing a novel. She said to me, "Then write well." I can hear that she has finally given up hope of curing my leg.

We all try our best to forget my leg. She borrowed books from me everywhere, pushed me to go to the movies in rainy and snowy days, and hoped to find a doctor as before, asking for remedies.

At the age of thirty, my first novel was published, but my mother had passed away. A few years later, my other novel was lucky enough to win an award. It has been seven years since my mother left me.

We moved after mother died. I seldom go to the yard where my mother lived again.

This small yard is at the end of a big yard. I occasionally go to the big yard, but I don't want to go to the small yard. It's inconvenient to get my hands in.

One year, people finally mentioned their mother again: "Go and have a look in the small yard. The acacia planted by your mother has blossomed this year! " "My heart is shaking, but I still say that it is too difficult to get in and out of the trolley.

I didn't expect the tree to be alive. That year, my mother went to the labor bureau to find a job for me. When I came back, I dug a newly unearthed "mimosa" on the roadside. I thought it was mimosa, and it grew in a flowerpot, but it was actually a acacia.

Mother never liked those things, but at that time her mind was elsewhere. The next year, the acacia tree didn't sprout, and my mother sighed, but she didn't want to throw it away, so she still let it grow in the clay pot.

In the third year, the acacia tree grew leaves again and flourished. Mother was happy for many days, thinking it was a good sign, and often went to play with it, fearing that she would not be careful again.

After another year, she took the acacia out of the pot and planted it on the ground in front of the window. Sometimes she says, I don't know how many years this tree will last.

Another year, we moved. Sadness made us forget the little tree.