My mother is really old and has become a child-like pester, and every time she calls, she always asks enthusiastically: When are you going home? Not to mention that there are more than 1,000 miles away, and I have to change the car three times.
My mother's ears are not good, I explained for a long time, she still eagerly asked: When will you come back? Several times, I finally lost my patience and shouted loudly on the phone, she finally understood, and hung up the phone silently.
A few days later, my mother asked the same question again, but her tone was timid and unconfident. is like an unwilling child, knowing that it is in vain to ask, but he can't help it. My heart softened and I groaned.
When my mother saw that I was not annoyed, she immediately became happy. She happily described to me: The pomegranates in the backyard are blooming, the watermelons are almost ripe, you can come back.
I was embarrassed and said, "How can I take a leave of absence when I am so busy?" She said anxiously: "You say that my mother has cancer and only has half a year to live!" I immediately blamed her for talking nonsense, and she laughed hehehe.
When I was a child, whenever it was windy and rainy, I didn't want to go to school, so I pretended to have a stomachache, and my mother saw through it and was scolded by me. Now that I'm old, she taught her daughter to lie instead, and I'm so angry and funny. The question and answer kept repeating, and I finally couldn't bear it, and told her that I would go back next month, and my mother choked up with joy.
But somehow, there are always things to do, everything is more important than going home, and in the end, I can't go back. The mother on the other end of the phone didn't seem to have the strength to say another word, and I was full of guilt: Mom, are you angry? Mother heard the truth this time, and she hurriedly said: Son, I'm not angry with you, I know you're busy.
But within a few days, my mother's phone call became more and more urgent. She said, "The grapes are ripe, the pears are ripe, come back and eat them." I said, what's so rare, it's all over the streets here, and you can eat enough for ten yuan and eight yuan.
My mother was not happy, and I tried to coax her: "However, those things are fed with fertilizers and pesticides, how can you grow them well." Mother smirked.
On Saturday, the temperature was so high that I didn't dare to go out, so I turned on the air conditioner and stayed at home. The child yelled that the ice cream was gone, so I had to go downstairs to buy it. In the scorching heat of the street, I suddenly saw my mother.
It seemed that she had just gotten out of the car, with a basket on her arm and a heavy bag on her back, and she bent over, dodging left and right, afraid that others would touch her things. In the crowded crowd, my mother struggled with every step.
I called out to her, and she hurriedly lifted her sweaty face, searched around, and was speechless when she saw me coming.
As soon as I got home, my mother happily carried those things out. Her hands were bruised, her fingers were wrapped in duct tape, and there was scabbed blood on the back of her hand. My mother smiled and said to me, "Eat, eat quickly, I picked it all out."
My mother, who had never been far away, came all the way for my words. She was in the cheapest, non-air-conditioned bus, which was hot and crowded, but the grapes and pears were intact.
I can't imagine how she got there along the way, I just know that in this world, where there is a mother, there are miracles.
My mother only stayed for three days, and she said that I was working too hard, getting up early and working late, and taking care of the children, but she was in a hurry but couldn't help. She didn't dare to touch the kitchen facilities for fear of breaking them. She quietly went to book the ticket herself, and quietly went alone.
After only a week of going back, my mother said that she missed me again and kept urging me to go home. The next day, I received a call from my aunt: "Your mother is sick, come back quickly." I was so anxious that my eyes were black, and I ran to the station with tears in my eyes to catch the last train.
Along the way, I prayed silently in my heart. I hope it's my mother who lied to me, and I hope she's okay. I'm willing to listen to her nagging, I'm willing to eat all the meals she cooks for me, and I'm willing to take time out to see her often.
At this time, I realized that people need mothers to live to be 80 years old. When the car finally arrived at the entrance of the village, the mother trotted over, smiling all over her face. I hugged her, wanted to cry and laugh, and blamed: What do you say is not good, saying that you are sick, you can think of it!
My mother, who had been reproached, was still infinitely happy, she just wanted to see me. My mother happily hurried in and out, setting a table of delicious things, waiting for my compliments.
I criticized mercilessly: the red bean porridge is boiled, the skin of the fried buns is too thick, and the braised pork tastes too salty. The mother's smile suddenly became embarrassed, and she scratched her head helplessly.
I smiled secretly in my heart, and I knew that once I said something delicious, my mother would have to force me to eat a lot of it, and I would have to take it with me when I left. In this way, I was fed fat by her, and I couldn't lose weight. And, without belittling her, how can I have a chance to occupy the stove?
I cooked for my mother, I talked to her, and she stared at me for a long time, her eyes showing great love.
Whatever I said, she listened reverently with her mouth half-open and her ears sideways, and even during the nap, she sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me with a smile. I said, "If you love me so much, why don't you live with me?" She said, she is not used to living in the city.
After a few days, I was in a hurry to go back, and my mother begged me to stay another day. She said that she had asked someone to go to the city to buy vegetables this morning, and that she would be able to come back in a while, and that she must cook me a good meal.
The county seat is more than 90 miles away from here, and my mother has to get back everything she thinks is delicious and let me eat it, so that she can feel at ease.
When I came back from my aunt's house, my mother's carefully prepared dishes were finally served on the table, and I couldn't help but be amazed that the fish scales were not shaved clean, the chicken nuggets were covered with fine chicken feathers, and the sesame oil enoki mushrooms had hair. Whether it is meat or vegetarian, it makes people unable to put down chopsticks.
My mother loved cleanliness so much when she was young, but now she is so sloppy when she is old. When my mother saw that I was picking and choosing, she compromised and sent me to take the night bus.
It was dark and my mother was holding my arm. She said, "You can't get used to the country roads." She accompanied me to the car, and kept telling the east and the west, and the car was open, so I was in a hurry to get down, but the corner of my clothes was caught by the car door and I almost fell.
I choked up and leaned on the window of the car and shouted: Mom, Mom, be careful! She didn't hear clearly, and shouted while chasing the car: Child, I'm not angry with you, I know you're busy!
This time, my mother seemed satisfied, and she did not urge me to go home again, but kept telling me happy things: that she had a very good calf in the house, and that she would plant a lot of flowers in the yard at the beginning of the next spring. Listening to it, my heart warmed.
At the end of the year, I received another call from my aunt. She said, "Your mother is sick, come back quickly."
Where do I believe that when we only talked the day before yesterday, my mother said that she was very good and told me not to worry about it. My aunt just kept urging me, but I went back in disbelief and bought a big bag of my mother's favorite oil cakes.
When the car arrived at the head of the village, I craned my neck and looked at my mother, who had not come to pick me up, and I had a sense of foreboding.
My aunt told me that when I called, my mother was no longer there and she was walking peacefully. Half a year ago, my mother was diagnosed with cancer, but she didn't tell anyone, and she was still busy as usual until she closed her eyes and arranged her funeral.
My aunt also told me that my mother had suffered from an eye disease at an early age, and it was difficult to see. I hugged the bag of oil cake tightly to my chest, and my heart felt as if someone had gouged it out.
It turned out that my mother knew that her days were numbered, so she kept calling me to go home, and she wanted to see me a few more times and talk to me a few more words.
It turned out that I was picky about the food that refused to put down the chopsticks, and she made it with her blurred vision, how careless I was! The night I left, how she groped her way home alone, whether she fell or not, I will never know.
Mother, in the last moments of her life, told me happily that morning glories covered the old chimneys, and lentil blossoms like the purple clothes I wore when I was a child. You leave all the love, all the warmth, and then leave quietly.
I know that you are the only person in this world who will not be angry with me, the only person who is willing to wait for me forever, that is, it is because of this favor that I dare to make you wait for so long.
But, Mother, am I really that busy?