My story with my mother was the story of me and my mother in those years. I don't know how much my mother did for me. I must share with you the things that I have deeply remembered and remembered in my life. You should

My story with my mother

This is my story with my mother in those years. I don't know how much my mother did for me. I must share with you the things that I have deeply remembered and remembered in my life. You should love our mother and yourself well, for you are the greatest happiness of our mothers.

I don't know how long I slept. It was still raining outside. I was suddenly awakened by a thunderclap. I rubbed my eyes and sat up and looked at the book in front of me. I don't know if it was raining or crying. I don't know when I'm carrying an extra coat. My mom should have put it on for me, but I don't remember when it was, but I knew my mom should have been here several times when I was asleep. Looking at my coat, my heart suddenly felt guilty for the impulse just now, and felt sorry for my mother. What right do I have to use my mother's love for myself as an excuse to lose my temper, but my mother didn't blame me.

Time flies. The rain stopped, the sun was gone, and the corn in the field was high. It's time for me to go back to school. Schools are far away, not terrible at all, but the pain of nostalgia is terrible. My mother pinched her white hair and kept worrying about me. Now I distinctly remember that it should have been the night before I left. My mother stayed with me for a long time and I spoke a lot, but now I don't remember what I said. I should take good care of myself and eat enough. I was reading a book while my mother helped me pack my bags. I asked me a lot of questions, do I want to eat this, do I want to eat that. I was impatient, and I knew I was absolutely in no right to lose my temper with my mother, and even if you were impatient, I didn't lose my temper and pack my bags. After my mother sat for me for a long time, my mother began to rest. I still have a habit of trying not to sleep the night before I leave home because I can't stand to leave so soon, I always feel like there's a long holiday ahead of me, but every time I get a good night's sleep and refuse not to sleep. The next day, my mom got up early. Before dawn, I heard voices in the kitchen. I knew my mom was preparing breakfast. Although I said many times last night that I didn't eat in the morning and that I had to catch the bus, I knew my mother wouldn't listen to me until my mother had dinner, and when it was still dark, my mother came to me again to check my luggage. My mother was very careful and afraid of disturbing me, but I woke up and thought: Mom, why are you working so hard? You should have slept a little more, and I should have gotten up early because I've done so little for this family. Get up, go into the kitchen, eat a bowl of porridge, and an egg neatly placed on the stove. I wasn't too hungry, but I ate anyway because I didn't want to worry my mom too much. My mother seemed worried that I would not be able to catch the bus. I told her it was still a while before departure. Although there was no hurry, my mother took all my luggage to the door. After dinner, I embarked on a journey. I wanted to take the luggage, but my mom insisted on taking it herself and I didn't want to give it to me. I feel like I'm stronger than my mom. However, I felt a little heavy when I took my luggage, but my mom walked quickly with the luggage and left me behind. When I arrived at the station, the last place separated from my mother, I felt even more uncomfortable. I hoped the car would take its time, I hoped the school would suddenly announce a delay of a few days, but the car still arrived as scheduled, and every time I got on the bus in this uncomfortable state, I asked my mother to go back early. My mother nodded, but I remained motionless. I looked at me, looked at me. I don't know what she's looking at, but I don't dare look at my mother. I don't know why I didn't dare. Maybe I didn't want to be so sad when I left, maybe I was afraid to see my mother's vicissitudes, until the car started and I turned my head to look at my mother. It wasn't until I couldn't see her that I turned my head. Somehow, my heart was so hot. It was so hot I blinked, but I didn't want to cry