Mom is a beauty, the years please don't hurt her

　　From a distance, I looked at her figure. Slightly fat body, standing in the wind. After seeing me, she smiled and waved to me.

　　For some reason, a sudden sourness flooded my heart. I forgot how long I hadn't cared about that person, as if in the blink of an eye, that beautiful young figure was hobbling up, and I don't know when, in that long black hair, secretly growing out of the silver wire, that line of wrinkles, also mercilessly creeping up on the mother's handsome face. The first thing you need to do is to get a good idea of what you're doing.

　　The fact is that you can find a lot of people who are not able to get a good deal on a lot of things. When I was a kid, I always felt that my mom was the most beautiful woman, and at that time, I always tried to get my mom to go to parent-teacher conferences to satisfy my little vanity.

　　As I recall, my mother was a strong woman. No matter how much ridicule she suffered, no matter how many difficulties she encountered, she never seemed to back down. She was always looked down upon by her relatives for being poor, and no one would help us, not even the so-called pity. Without a house, mom vowed to buy her own house. When relatives found out, they all hid away, saying they had no money, and others had to wait to see the joke, coldly saying to mom, "Wait until you buy a chicken coop. Mom did not retort, gritted her teeth, and carried on. In only five years, not only did she buy a house, but also a building of her own. I admire my mother, her courage, her ability, and her strength!

　　As far as I can remember, my mom was a hothead. She walks in a breeze and does things in a hurry. She woke up very early every day and washed up and ate in a few minutes. My mother could not stand my dawdling and slowness, and I was always scolded for it. When I was a kid, I was naughty, no matter what my mom said, I still didn't change, and of course, I didn't get beaten up.

　　Memories ......

　　I think back to the memory of my mother, looking at the reality of this slightly fat middle-aged woman right in front of me, so familiar, but also so strange. I was eager to walk on the road to school, but never ignored this person around me. I don't know when my mother lost her slim figure; I don't know when the gray hair became uncontrollable in her black hair; I don't know when the wrinkles began to creep onto the fair face that I remembered. I also did not find out when the person who was thundering in my memory started to become hobbled. Mom has changed. She is a different person than before. But I, however, never noticed.

　　I suddenly regretted it.

　　I had always neglected the person who loved me the most in the world, and I wanted to leave her because I didn't understand the way she loved me. When she beat me and scolded me, I wanted to grow up quickly so that I could do what I wanted without staying by her side. At one time, I didn't like being around her. Perhaps the idea of growing up slowly faded into oblivion as a young child, and today, many years later, I have really grown up, really left home, and left her without the joy that I had expected.

　　Slowly grow up, slowly read the person who once wanted to leave how much. I realized that I could not go back to the old days, the years have taken away her beautiful face, and the years have made her no longer young. Everything started late. When I wanted to stay with her, I had to leave my hometown; when I wanted to see her, I was in a different place; I wanted to tell her, "Mom, I always loved you." But I found that I was already in tears.

　　Please be merciful to me, age.

　　My mother is a beautiful woman, please don't hurt her!