In the middle of the night listening to the only mother good in the world, some little touched.
Mother to gray hair, waving a hoe is always in my mind constantly, buildings, smoke, the fields, not the poet's beautiful landscapes of rural.
In order to survive, in order to have a good future, mother took the children and grandchildren, and a lifetime of youth are lost in their own worlds.
The farmers' life is doomed to be facing the loess back, cultivates mother thin shoulders provoke the snow and wind and frost, life is not the rural people is not feel difficult in the countryside, eating red tiaoxi porridge, wear is coarse, dry prop fell back of heavy work.
Whenever, rural children raised in the head, has experience of playing in the fields, mother working in the field Medicox, a child in a bamboo weaving "pack" shaking head to play, a lot of mountains mosquitoes in summer, the forehead will always be bitten up one bag, one mother love dearly and very helpless, can only use one, called "tiger balm" wiped repeatedly little old bag.
Opened the yellow calendar, record is mother's suantiankula from page to page.
In the present, the rural mothers are mostly no endowment insurance, seemingly self-sufficient life, always has too many helpless and helpless.
Life cannot leave the land, in the rest of my life weather, even the seven old eighty also want to spring the autumn harvest in the field, an egg, a duck, a green vegetables of the easy to switch back to the daily necessities. Never too old, tired to the old, the mother's youth is in the endless work quietly away.
Have mama of children like a treasure, but I dare not imagine that no mother's child is a what kind of appearance, remember my childhood a playmate, at the age of four, he eloped with her mother and a businessman, because without the mother, a person has learned to smoke, a person has learned to steal, a person in trouble Medicox.
I saw him die, but not with his empathy, without a mother's child, how the inner struggle and complex.
No matter how much they themselves, in front of the mother is always a baby boomer.
There is only a mother good, saw many stories of single mothers with children grew up, I'm a little shame, also very touched, a mother's love two words, shine with the light of in the world the most tender feeling.
Reality of the moment, the clutch of marriage separation has become a swing 歾 don't go, neither the neon of the city or rural, talking has a single father with children life, where my mom to? Perhaps only mother knows.
Some people say that the child is the mother's pride, but there are some woman in the world abandoned their children disappeared, a has always been the blame to others.
I don't want to comment on this kind of phenomenon, just think a man without sense of responsibility, to another place, can thoroughly remould oneself become responsible?
Met a lot of people, heard many stories, the bitterness of changes in temperature between the world is like a winter water seepage cloth shoes, a cold one foot, chilling.
I am a people don't like tragedy, I pray that every kind of people have a good end-result.
2014 winter comes earlier, that kind of cold in-depth bone marrow.
A no name alleys in chengdu, I saw the old aged more than JiuXun, put up several decades to take care of the son of the physically handicapped.
No one know what her name is, no one knows what her life will be like.
Only know the mother and child, never separated.
Listen to the people around them, the old man in order to sonWIOM, give up your own personal happiness.
Day after day, year after year.
In the old man heart, had not too many ideas, since the son into the world, so your son is mother's biggest responsibilities.
Happiness in the world are diverse, son the old man's greatest happiness is happy.
Every day, the old man on crutches, with a son. Stick figure has become the most eye-catching a scenery line in the streets.
Selling vegetables in the eldest brother said, the old man likes to eat the food is cabbage.
Son favorite food is Chinese cabbage.
I am shaking as, a common heart deeply moved by the old man's story.
Sunset, I secretly took a group photo, every click, is a song, only a mother good in the world.
This winter is cold, because these scenes, warm a lot of.