Author: Boya
Mother is as humble as moss
Solemn as the morning sun
Soft as the sound of water in Jiangnan
As strong as a thousand years of han jade
When you look up
She is Hao Hao Mingyue
When the head is hanging
She is reckless
- Love, "Mother"
This time back to my hometown to visit the grave, as usual, I laid out the snacks and fruits prepared by my father, and inserted the flowers bought by my sister, and I still cried for a long time in front of my mother's grave. The reason for crying may be to chagrin at my mediocrity, it may be unwilling, or it may be simply to think of her.
After such a long time, everything that was once there is still in my mind, just like yesterday. The departure of my mother was the most important turning point in my life, my mother was gone, my home was no longer complete, and my heart was empty. I tried to fill the hole in my heart, but unfortunately it didn't work, the hole was still there. However, I have been able to face up to the collapse of this piece and live peacefully with it as much as possible, even deliberately ignoring its existence to ensure that I can still live normally.
I am an introvert, neither good at expressing nor talking to people. Coupled with the self-proclaimed intellectual, I had the urge to write a eulogy to commemorate her every important holiday. This article, which began to brew half a month ago, but severe procrastination has been bothering me so much that it is only honored today.
What I am going to write is not an earth-shattering event, for my mother's life was humble, weak, mediocre, nor was it a pretentious tear-jerker, though there were indeed many things that enough to elicit sad memories for me. But I still hope that my relatives and friends will be able to read it, or with tears, or with laughter. This is not to forget to commemorate, but to take advantage of my memory, I want to write down my mother, if I am lucky enough to live to the age of gray hair, there are some good memories that can accompany me through the rest of my life.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="30" > parental love</h1>
Her mother married into the Xu family at the age of twenty, at the age of dreams. Looking at the old photos, the long hair is braided, although it is a black and white image, you can still see the mother's bright eyes and teeth, and the face is warm as porcelain.
"Your father was a good offspring back then, and there were a lot of mediators," my mother smiled, and her shame was half hidden like a Peach Blossom in March. This is a rare moment of pride for a mother.
After the birth of the first child, the joy of the first father and mother occupies the dominant position in the family, and the mother also feels that life is kind to her, the full moon wine, the celebration of the first anniversary, not one left behind. With the birth of the second, third and fourth children, the constraints gradually encroached on life, and the mother felt that the years were lost, and she could also vaguely guess some of her losses.
"It was so difficult at that time, every day when I opened my eyes, I thought about how to make food for you", the mother said in a sad tone, but her expression was slightly proud. Yes, raising four children, taking care of a father who is busy with work, and feeding the family well on such a difficult day is a merit.
Mother loves to be clean and cooks well. In that era of material scarcity, although it was difficult for Qiao Woman to cook without rice, it was difficult for her mother, who always racked her brains to change the pattern and strive to make the bland ingredients more delicious and more delicious. Yu Qian'er cooks in the spring, stewed noodles in the summer, pickled vegetables and melons in the autumn, and all kinds of dry goods in the winter, the mother can always make a different taste and style, which makes the neighbors envious.
My favorite thing to eat is the hand-rolled noodles made by my mother, and the noodles, rolling the noodles, and the noodles, my mother is like a magician, instantly turning a pile of flour into a tendon of noodles, all in one go. At this time, the father was adding firewood to the stove, watching his mother take the oil bottle in one hand and the spatula in the other hand, standing in the aroma, as amiable as the rice in the pot.
They are like this, using youth and love as a seasoning, carrying a barren life, cooking a series of dinners, the taste is thick, dripping and sonorous, and nurturing the four of us brothers and sisters.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="129" > puppy</h1>
One night, my mother came back from a visit and held a puppy in her arms.
It was one of the most common earth dogs in the countryside, the size of a palm, covered in yellow hair, skinny as wood, with dull eyes, and licking his mother's hand from time to time. The mother said that when she came out of the neighbor's house, the puppy followed her all the time, scolding and not leaving. It was so cold that it must have frozen to death outside, so I took it back and put it back in its place tomorrow.
I begged my mother to raise the puppy. The mother's face is ugly, the family is not rich, and even the smallest dogs have to eat. Or the father said: "If the child likes it, just keep it." ”
The mother found a clean cloth, dipped it in hot water, and simply wiped the puppy clean. He found another bowl and made some vegetable soup with leftovers for his dinner. The puppy was obviously hungry and devoured. The mother laughed and said that it was a starving ghost supernatural.
I named it Xiao Huang.
Xiao Huang is very small, so small that a bowl can hold it, and it seems that if it is sent outside the house, it can be frozen to death immediately. After feeding, the mother found a cardboard box containing medicine from outside, and then pulled out some old clothes and cotton pads from the cabinet and put them on the window sill of Kangtou as Xiao Huang's home. Xiao Huang is very well-behaved, after eating and drinking enough, lying in the small nest, sometimes instigating a few ears, sometimes breathing a long sigh of relief, sleeping sweetly. The mother said, "Xiao Huang will be yours after that, and you must take good care of it." ”
Xiao Huang quickly grew into rhubarb under the feeding of her mother, and she stayed on my way to school every day. The little yellow can easily pounce on my shoulders, lick my hair and face, or jump in front of and behind me, with a few pops from time to time; or obediently lie on the ground and let me stroke its head, and its tail sweeps to dust. Every time at this point, my mother pretended to scold me a few times, telling me that Xiao Huang was too dirty.
The most amusing time to eat, our family sat on the kang, pots and pans clanging. Xiao Huang did not dare to come up, he could only crouch on the ground, looking at us with his eyes, hungry and anxious, so he jumped in place a few times and made a humming sound. The mother would always take a little rice or vegetable out of her bowl to soothe her anxious stomach.
Xiao Huang accompanied me in my childhood, and Xiao Huang died of old age.
After the death of her mother, the eldest sister's life returned to its former tranquility. One day, I asked her, "Why don't you have a puppy or kitten to accompany you?" The eldest sister said, "I don't like cats and dogs, and neither do my mother." ”
My tears flowed.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="131" > steal money</h1>
After chemotherapy, my mother often had a bitter mouth, so I bought fruit candy, peeled it and put one in her mouth. Mother said that you are still the same as when you were a child.
My childhood was very happy, and the source of happiness may be pocket money. My father gave me fifty cents a day, and in that era when fruit candy was a penny, fifty cents was a huge amount of money, enough for me to get away with it for a day. Every time I bought fruit candy, I would always peel one for my mother, who would subconsciously refuse, saying that I did not like to eat it, and the cycle began. But she couldn't beat me. Then, it was my father, my sister, my brother.
One day, I was rummaging through boxes and cabinets at home, and suddenly I found a paper bag in the mezzanine of the cabinet. Open a look, is a lot of money. It's a lot of money, and I've never seen that much as a young man. I wanted to put it back where I was, but the temptation of fools, jumping candy, three fresh noodles, and cream ice cream left me with no scruples. I stole five dollars, spent it a week, and the children looked enviously, and my vanity was greatly satisfied. Seeing that my mother did not notice, I had a second and third time.
My mother worked as a farmer all her life and could not read a liter. She did not have the ability to make a lot of money, relying on knitting sweaters or embroidered patches to supplement the family, and earning less than a hundred yuan a month.
I continued to show off my superiority to the children, and my mother appeared. She pulled me to the edge of the playground, her face full of anger revealing what had happened to me in the east window. Mother stood there without saying a word, and I stood shivering and sobbing incessantly under the setting sun. After a long time, my mother dried my tears and said, "I am worried that you have become bad." ”
Not far away, people were preparing dinner, and the cooking smoke wafted as if the house was breathing softly. A cloud stained the phnom penh and gently rippled over the mountains.
The mother said, "It's going to be dark, go home, Mom won't tell your Dad." ”
My mother walked in front, and I followed behind. The setting sun stretched her shadow long and long, and I stepped on her shadow, and I did not dare to come closer. On that evening when I was eight years old, I learned about my mother's difficulties.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="133" > mother's tears</h1>
My grandmother died, and I was in my freshman year of college preparing for my final exams. Fearing that it would affect my studies, my family unanimously decided to hide it from me. By the time I got home from winter vacation, my grandmother was already buried. My grandmother and I don't know each other, and from childhood to adulthood, the time we spend together will not add up to more than a month. So after my grandmother died, I cried, but my heart was not so sad.
On the fifteenth night of the lunar month, the mother said, "Son, accompany me to the street and burn some paper for your grandmother." It was a really cold day, the street lights were bright and dim, and the wind blew the wires whine, like the ghost cries of a horror movie, and my scalp tingled. The mother knelt on the cold and bone-chilling ground, repeatedly saying the words of her grandmother, mourning. But at that time, I only felt cold, and seemed to disdain my mother's tears and sadness, and even a little irritable, annoyed about why my mother cried for so long.
I even suspected that I was a stone heart.
It wasn't until three months later, when I saw a flower shirt on the street, that my first reaction was to buy one for my grandmother, and after a few seconds of pause, I felt difficulty breathing and my heart began to ache severely, and I realized that my grandmother was really gone, and the tears flowed uncontrollably.
There is such a dialogue in Mr. Jiang Wenli's movie "We See You in Heaven":
Xiao Lan asked Grandpa, "Grandpa, are you terrible to die?" ”
Grandpa said, "Don't be afraid." ”
XiaoLan: "Why?" ”
Grandpa: "Alive with you, dead with your uncle and them, on both sides are my relatives." ”
Today, I have encountered the same situation as my mother: the same sorrow, the same heart-rending lungs. But I firmly believe that I am luckier than my mother, because my grandfather also said: "After people die, bad people are underground, and good people are in heaven." ”
Yeah, we'll see you in heaven.
In order to protect the privacy of patients and their families, some of the content in this article has been blurred or deleted