Joe Leaf Short American Text Appreciation: Sunshine Zone

One day in the spring, at noon, I came home from work and saw my mother drying the quilt, so I wanted to dry the quilt.

I took the quilt out, dried it on either end of the clothesline, and after lunch, I went to work.

When I came back from work, I saw my quilt as soon as I entered the house. It's different from noon. They had been exposed to the sun's best, and the setting sun had coated the snow-white quilt with a light golden color. The mother's quilt was lonely at both ends of the clothesline. The shadows of the houses silently paint monotonous and regular geometric figures on them.

I walked over to my quilt and stroked it with my hand, and they were warm.

They were, of course, warm, as warm as the palms of a mother's hand.

I stroked my mother's quilt again, and they were cool.

They were, of course, cool, as cool as the back of a mother's hand.

My eyes suddenly revealed many of the plots of the past: the sheet with the best texture in the house, the room with the best orientation, the pot of flowers that bloomed the most beautifully, the dish that made the best dish, and even the bowl with the most exquisite pattern when eating... These things, like the sunshine zone I'm in, are mine.

I know that for mothers, these episodes are not accidental.

In the short and long journey of life, it may be your friend who gives you happiness, it may be your lover who makes you beautiful, it may be your career that enriches you, but what makes you warm must be your mother. She uses the back of her hand to block all the wind and frost she can do for you, and she also uses the palm of her hand to release you with endless warm sunshine.

Mother is the eternal sunshine zone.