A short essay about writing a story that reflects the character.

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. ...

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, often on business, leaving me to take care of my life at home for many years. My personality is full of independent things One thing I want most is to be mentally and economically independent when I grow up. I seldom miss her deeply, but when I answered her eternal question with a somewhat deliberate tone, "Do you miss me?" No, she always said half jokingly that I didn't. She paused for a moment and said, "Of course-"Then she talked about something that happened a long time ago, something that 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 suggested a word, which somehow angered the people at work and began to yell at my mother. When I was a child, I rushed to my mother, stood in front of her and shouted, "Don't scold my mother, don't scold her." The man froze, and suddenly his anger disappeared. I reached out to touch my head, but I pushed his hand away and insisted on pulling my mother away ... My mother continued to tell the story, and I heard a little sob on the other end of the phone, and tears kept pouring out.

I'm not a good boy, at least not now. I talked back to her, jokingly "hurt" her with some mean words and angered her with some new words she didn't understand. I seem to be so cute from birth. 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 I was willing to hold her hand and cross the road.

I, my mother, am 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 I was not sensible. I still remember that my mother was cold to my heartless language. Although it is sunny for both of us after this little episode in life, I am worried that my mother will really feel pain and sadness, and I am afraid that she will be disappointed in me.

And I, what did I do? I'm not qualified to say that what I did touched my mother. I didn't get any grades that really pleased her, and I didn't have any skills that she could show off. When she was ill, I couldn't accompany my mother to see a doctor except to pass a glass of water and take some medicine. I know my mother has a heavy burden on her shoulders. She wants to support me, a woman who doesn't know how to spend money but doesn't make money. I heard that she sometimes cries at night, my mother. 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"?