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Compiling the text, I occasionally saw the four words of "Happy New Year" in red, and I burst into tears in an instant, and I remembered my mother in an instant, and the tears flowed down without listening to the call. The mother is not there, the year is also a thick wound; the mother is not there, I made a delicious food that nowhere to deliver, who tastes? In my mother's absence, on the morning of the first day of the Chinese New Year, I could only look at the window alone; my mother was not there, and my mother's home was cold and desolate, even if I could not kneel, my mother could not walk out of the picture frame------
Never dare to think that the mother will leave, never dare to think that the mother is not in this thick can not be thicker than the death. From the time I remember, I can't do without my mother, and I never dare to imagine that in a year without a mother, the sky is like collapsing.
Dad is an orphan, seven years old without grandpa, eight years old without grandma, with grandpa and aunt, and abused badly. There was no food to eat, no clothes to wear, ice and snow to go barefoot to collect dung, and at night a rotten bed was curled up in the kitchen. Dad was abused and fled to Dongming to ask for food, joined the revolution at the age of fourteen, followed Liu Deng's army to participate in the Battle of Dabie Mountain, And Dad's life was a life of suffering and a life worth showing off. Father and mother are the words of the matchmaker, listening to the mother, the grandmother is a poor father is a small bitter child, although the family is surrounded by walls, but in the future will definitely be able to keep the home, will live a life.
The mother said that my father worked at the line station in the city and rarely came home. There were six of us sisters, no one to take care of, no one to help, and there was still land in the house, including our food and clothing, all sewn by the mother. The mother said that the clothes were taken turns to be picked up and worn, even if the patches were patched, the mother also washed us clean and never let us wear dirty clothes. In my memory, the mother is full of energy and has never cried bitterness. The mother said that she had not slept a single night at that time, this side coaxed us to sleep, that side quickly lit a kerosene lamp, spun flowers and weaving, or made shoes, or made clothes, very sleepy, just lie with clothes for a while, the sky is unknown, never dare to sleep until dawn. In memory, the mother is like a never-ending machine, the mother has never been idle, every day is a busy work, the mother said, sleep at night to think about tomorrow's work.
This year is the first year without a mother, and I am at a loss. When I was a child, my mother began to be busy from twenty, busy and noodles. At that time, it was cold in winter, and Nianghe's hair noodles had to be filled with several thermoses, placed in a circle around the glass basin, and then covered the basin with a few newspapers, and the newspapers were covered with quilts. At that time, the mother did not know when she got up and steamed the noodles, and when the noodles were steamed; busy steaming steamed buns. I give my mother a hand every year, and my love of pasta is probably the foundation that my mother has laid for me since I was a child. I clearly remember that when steaming bean stuffing buns, my second brother and I could not steam, and when steamed, they became a flower tube, and the steamed bean stuffed steamed buns were round and full; busy cooking meat. When I was a child, meat could not be less, and My father's task was to rush the New Year's market to buy back a sitting pier, and the rest of the meat was washed, broken, boiled, and roasted meat. At that time, when cooking meat, the mother would borrow the iron meat fork of the Hutong Wanjin Brother's family, and the meat could be distinguished if it was rotten or not. At that time, when cooking meat, my favorite thing was to help my mother cook the pot, when the meat was rotten, the mother would first choose a piece of pure lean meat to let me relieve my hunger, and instantly there was a big bite of meat to eat the sassy; busy fried crispy meatballs. Our family's balls are prepared for the same three dishes: carrots, spicy radishes, and cabbage gangs. The washer never let me wash it, the water was cold. At that time, in the winter, Niang's hand was often cracked, and Niang never downplayed it, saying, "If you dry a handful when you are wet all day, you can't crack it." After the mother washes the radish, the rest of the skin, insert radish shreds, chopping vegetables is all my work, don't look at me as old and young, old and young are not petite, at home everything to help the mother to do.
The year of the bride is a year of joy, a year of happiness, and a year of consummation. Steamed steamed buns are: steamed buns, vegetable steamed buns, bean stuffed buns, jujube flowers, flower cakes will not be less, when it was cold, steamed Steamed Buns in a large cloth basket, can eat up to fifteen; Niang fried crispy meatballs, always the taste of niang, other people's family is not good for niang. Niang stew cabbage noodle crispy meat is always the taste of the New Year, at that time, the broth of niang boiled meat has always been kept in a large basin, cold in winter, the broth will be frozen in one piece, the ball bounces, the mother will scoop a large spoon every time the cabbage is boiled, so in the winter, the cabbage stew noodles are still my favorite.
The mother is there, the year is there, the heart is there, the love is there, the pain is there, the warmth is there, the laughter is there, the happiness is there. The year without a mother is empty, lonely, sad, missed, and tearful. The mother is not there, and the year is a thick wound. May your mother be accompanying the mother, cherishing the mother, hurting the mother, shun niang, teasing the mother, coaxing the mother, and gathering happiness together. It's not like I'm so old that I think of my mother to the broken intestines------
Nian, from a young age, has been the taste of a mother.
Swallow December 30, 2021
Author: Swallow, a little girl who is low to the dust.
One-point swallow literature