Praise sb.' s composition

When I called my long-lost classmate and asked each other about each other's situation, he suddenly asked me, "What did you do that moved your mother the most?"

I was puzzled for a moment. I don't seem to remember, or even want to remember, whether my mother was moved by anything about me. I'm speechless. I am proud of my equal friendship with my mother and brag about how I please my mother. Suddenly, I felt a pang of sadness.

My mother is away on business. She often travels, leaving me at home to take care of my life for many years. My personality is full of independent things. What I want most is independent growth, spiritual independence and economic independence. I seldom miss her deeply, but when I answer her eternal question "Do you miss me" with a negative answer, she always says that I have no conscience. It's her phone again. After a few words, I suddenly asked her, "In your impression, have I done anything that particularly touched you?" She paused for a moment and said, "Of course-"Then she talked about a long time ago, which never left a trace of impression in my mind. When I was 4 years old, my mother once took me to work with my father. In the process of talking with my father, my mother made a suggestion. I don't know why I angered people at work and started yelling at my mother. Before my father could stop me, I rushed to my mother and stood in front of her. I shouted at the workers, "Don't scold my mother, don't scold her." The man froze, and suddenly his anger disappeared. He stretched out his hand to touch my head, but I pushed his hand away and stubbornly dragged my mother away ... My mother continued to tell stories, and I heard the other end of the phone choked, and tears kept pouring out. My mother said it was the most touching thing in her memory. She said that I was very cute when I was a child, unlike now.

I'm not a good boy, at least not now. I talked back to her, jokingly "hurt" her with some mean words and annoyed her with some new words she didn't understand. I seem to have been born like this, and I have long forgotten that I am cute. My mother often complains and hopes that I won't grow up, so that she won't get old and I won't be angry with her. I don't know what I did when I was a child, but I remember that I was willing to cross the road by holding my mother's hand, and I was still saying to my mother, "Let me lead you across the road." Before going to bed, I still held my mother's hand, fearing that the devil in my dream would take me away. ...

I, when I grow up, my mother is old. When I was older, I learned to talk back and argue with my mother. She always lets me down. I still remember my mother apologizing to me like a child who did something wrong after dyeing my school uniform colorful. I still remember when my mother saw her satisfactory composition, she said "Oh, my article is overdue" in that joking and sad tone. I still remember my mother crying because of my unreasonable ambivalence. I still remember that my mother was chilling for my heartless language. Although it is sunny for both of us after this little episode in life, I am really worried about my mother.

And I, what did I do? I'm not qualified to say what I did to move my mother. I didn't get any grades that really made her happy, and I didn't have the skills to show off. When she was ill, I was unable to take my mother to the doctor except to hand her a glass of water and take some medicine. I know my mother has a heavy burden on her shoulders. She wants to support me, an ignorant person who has spent a lot of money and time. I heard that she sometimes cries at night. My mother is not an absolutely strong person, but she never transfers this burden to me. But what did I do? My tears came down again. My mother said she didn't like to see me cry all the time, but I was still so disobedient.

Me, regret it? Guilt? Is it shame? Is it pain? Is it sadness? Is it sour? Is it pain? Is it heartache? Both, none. ...

Mother is not kind, she hits me; Mom is not beautiful, she is old; Mother is not wordy, but likes to listen to others; My mother's career is very ordinary, and she is still working hard ... but my mother gave me a personality that makes me proud of being strict and lenient; With her youth, I grew up; With her habit of listening, she gave me a sharp mouth that always argued with her; She used her life's hard work to get everything around me. ...

On the other end of the phone, my mother called me twice, which made me stop thinking. She asked, "Why do you ask me this? Are you going to write a composition today? Are you looking for material from me? " I smiled. I seldom write about my mother in my composition. In my mind, it's too vulgar, but my mother always says, why don't you use such a good living model? I must be very touched that you want to write such a composition praising your mother. ...

I know my mother is actually easy to satisfy. She can be moved as long as she writes a composition. As long as she cares, she can be moved. As long as you love her, you can move her. Just stand in front of her and say "don't scold my mother, don't scold her", and she will be moved ... but I never gave it to her when I grew up. ...

Mom, I wrote this article. I care about your present situation. You don't know what you are doing when you are on a business trip. I want to tell you that I love you! Mom, am I qualified to say, tell you, tell everyone-"Everything I have done has moved you and made you proud"?