My Mother

After all the hardships of the red earth, she is like a cool breeze brushing her face.

01

My father took the brown bag from my mother's hand, heavy with a change of clothes and toothbrush and towel, and other daily necessities, and at the bottom was a quilt that my mother had sewn the night before. The thin rope can not withstand the relentlessness of heavy things, has been bullied into some deformation, shrinking into a thin line, straight to the mother's hand, strangled a crimson furrow.

The mother did not say anything, her eyes are so calm and bland, with no half ripples, as clear water cut autumn. The eyes flowed, and a few firms and extremely natural love rested there - her eyes.

The mother seems to be very good at saying goodbye. My father left, and he was gone for months. She woke up the next morning and made breakfast, watered the flowers, changed the water for the goldfish, and operated every inch of time in an orderly manner.

In my memory, every night that my father was gone, the white knitting lamp in the living room, which my mother used to do needlework, always worked until late, so late that I was able to get up early to memorize the text secretly, and I could still use my tender fingers to the afterglow of last night.

Under the white knitting lamp, there was a pile of flowery and green insoles.

I once asked my mother: Dad was gone for such a long time, don't you miss him at all? Why do you spend so much time making those useless insoles?

My mother's gaze was clear as if she hadn't gone through any internal struggle: it's the same when you get used to it, we all need an ending, it's hard to keep thinking about it, after all, he did it for the family. It is better to do something before you leave, it is also a reminder.

I asked my mother why she was so bashful.

The corners of my mother's mouth twitched, then smiled again, the cheeks embedded with pear sockets hiding the hints of the years: parting is a very normal thing, it is like your smile every morning and saying hello to me.

Really? I can't help but sigh at my mother's openness.

02

My mother's openness was not innate.

The late 1970s was not a time of war, nor was it a time of comprehensive reform, it was just an obscure time of being squeezed between the cracks, the green and the yellow.

She was one of the children at that time.

Her mother lived in the countryside and had a brother who was two or three years older. Her mother was not highly educated but had an almost obsessive pursuit of studying and going to school, and she was naturally the one who was given high hopes.

Since she started elementary school, her mother moved from her own home into her grandmother's house, and in the senior grades, in pursuit of better education, she was sent to her aunt's home ------ How could her mother forget the pain of parting again and again, and how could she not resist? However, for the silent mother, this resistance was ineffective.

From then on, my mother became even more reticent. As if this time and again the parting is arranged in the underworld, no need to fight, no need to grab, more can not escape.

I once heard my mother say this, a long, long time ago, that used to be great-grandmother said to my mother: we are not separated from each other, will always see, you go, is to go to school, to start a family, is always a good thing.

My mother believes in this saying, it is always a good thing to leave, it allows you to grow and meet the future.

03

My mother does not believe in horoscopes, does not believe in God, but only believes in the people around her, that kind of trust, which I can not understand at all, in a sense, seems to be called faith.

My mother said that no matter what, it is always good to believe, that at least one has a thought in one's heart, one can afford to be blessed, and even if one day one will never see it, there are no regrets.

I sometimes advise my mother that there are always people and things in this world that are not worth believing in, but she doesn't think so, at the age of the cross, what do you know?

That day, a distant relative found his way to grandma's house, crying and mourning. The mother greeted him to come in, he not only did not take half a step, but a hand to pull the mother's hand: sister ah, you must help me a hand, the family can not eat, I kneel to you ...... then both knees a weak, mother hastily dragged him, and then from the waist pulled out three hundred dollars. The man took the money, hands arching up, all the way back to the threshold. The mother waited for the man to turn his head and lightly and quickly flashed out of the intersection, before gently closing the door.

Such a person, even a note later, how to pay us back? Grandma yelled at her mother.

The mother still does not argue, but only faintly said, people, will pay back.

After seven or eight years, I, in the end, do not know the whereabouts of the 300 yuan before, a mother that sentence, to believe in, has been ringing in the ears.

Today, my mother's position is still not high, the salary is just to subsidize the family, but I learned even a little bit about treating people with kindness, and a little bit of faith regardless of gains and losses, thanks to my mother.

I used to search all over the world for Genuine, but I didn't know that the most desired Genuine was with my mother.

I once searched all over the world for sincerity, but I didn't know that the sincerity I wanted most was in my mother.

After all the hardships of the world, she is like a cool breeze on my face. This is my mother, the person I admire all my life.