<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="32" > everyone's childhood has their own best memories. For people in the seventies and eighties, their childhood did not have today's big supermarkets, no toys, and no snacks with everything</h1>
In that era of extreme material scarcity, there was a kind of "snack" called "luxury", can eat the small partners, family conditions are not ordinary, simply enviable, that is, once known as "high-grade nutrition" malt milk.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="24" > there is a childhood called malt milk</h1>
Malt milk creamer is a fixed drink containing milk, after brewing with boiling water, it will emit a strong milky aroma, containing protein, and is regarded as a tonic drink for daily life, which can be described as popular throughout the country in that year, especially in the 80s, it is known as the "malt milk essence era".
Malt milk creamer has tin can packaging and plastic bag packaging, economically well-off families, most of them buy tin can packaging, and families with general conditions will choose to buy plastic packaged malt milk creamer, buy it back and then pour it into a glass jar to save it from moisture.
However, the children are very fond of eating damp lumps of malted milk, and the whole piece is stuffed into the mouth, and the sweet taste cannot be forgotten for a long time.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="33" > that year my mother got sick, relatives came to see my mother, took two barrels of malt milk creamer, which is a rare thing. </h1>
Before my mother was sick, she was also a person who loved stinky beauty, and one year I had my hair permed during the New Year, and my mother asked, is it good to look good?
I said, like a bunch of grapes. It is scalded and then tied into a ponytail, and a bunch of rolls are hanging, really like grapes.
At that time, it was popular to pedal pants, and my mother also bought one, put it on shiny, I didn't think it was pretty, the top was thick and the bottom was thin, and it was like a turnip.
In the winter, my mother cracked her hands and asked me to buy her a dime and a roll of vaseline oil to wipe.
My mom bought face oil, "Xiafei" brand, especially fragrant. I thought, when will I be able to smear such a fragrant face oil?
Apple vendors came and pushed carts to sell apples in the village. I could taste it, the vendor gave my mom two small apples, my mom was reluctant to taste them, put them in a drawer and waited for me to come home from school, one for my brother.
When I was a child, my family had two cows, and after more than a year, the cows grew up and wanted to sell the cattle. Every day, people who buy cattle come to their homes and ask, are the cattle for sale? After school, my brother and I pinched our noses as soon as we entered the yard and shouted: Who's at home? Do you sell this cow? Every time my mother rushed out of the house: Sell it! When I look at both of us, we have to laugh and giggle and say two words to us, and I will tease your mother every day.
Later, my mother fell ill, had surgery, and had 8 times of chemotherapy. During the chemotherapy, she felt that she was better, and made me a pair of bean-wrapped cotton shoes in the winter, my feet grew too fast, and she was ready, and I put them on a bit of a clip. I still blame her for this. Then, one morning, I was woken up by crying, and my mother cried and said: You come to touch my stomach, is this a pimple? Is it moving here again?
My dad kept his head down, packed up his things and took us to the hospital. Went to the hospital for a check-up, and sure enough, it was transferred. My mother sat in the hall of the hospital, crying and crying, saying that she could not live.
Then my mom disappeared at the age of 33.
A few years ago, when my son was a child, I took him back to his hometown to live, my son was sick, and he was also in the hospital where my mother saw me, and when I passed through the hall on the first floor, I thought: My mother was sitting in this position and crying. My dad came to the hospital to see my son, and he was also full of emotions. I asked my dad, we're having a good time now, when do you most want to go back? My father smiled and recalled: I, I just want to go back to when you were three or four years old, when your brother would just leave, when I came home, my daughter and son pounced, my father came back, my father came back, did my father bring me good food?
I was 10 years old when my mom died and my brother was 7 years old. In the blink of an eye, I was 35. My mom is a rabbit in 63 years, my mom is going to be, and this year she is 58.
I usually don't think about her, when I say it, my memory turns out to be so clear, I still remember the 5.6-year-old thing so clearly. I thought of her that way.