I grow old with my mother

Every time you go home, you embark on the return journey with a deep fondness for your hometown and then return with the love of your parents. Unlike when going home lightly loaded, the trunk of the returning army, by parents stuffed out of the "incoming" sense of immediacy. Do not believe it, look at the Spring Festival, the end of the National Day holiday netizens sun photos will know. And I, of course, am no exception.

The weekend back to my mother's family, after lunch, went to a classmate's party, learned that I had to return that day, my mother was a little anxious, yelling: "I prepared so many things for you, you do not take away ah!" "I'm in a hurry, it might be too late to pack." My mother sighed and told me to leave the car at home, open the trunk, and she helped me load it.

My classmates had a car to pick me up, so of course, my mother's suggestion was a good one, and I agreed without even thinking about it.

After the party with my classmates, it was already 7 pm. The first thing you need to do is to get the trunk out early and put the refrigerator in the refrigerator and the balcony on the balcony. 10 o'clock after arriving home, I opened the trunk and was shocked, it was full and there was no gap. I started "unloading" from the top, first taking out a basket of fresh peppers and string beans, down three boards of eggs, and then some tightly tied small plastic bags. In the middle were five large woven bags with a row of winter melons lying underneath, and several pumpkins, the kind of long, small, sweet, sticky old pumpkins that I love to eat. From the corner of the two glass bottles, a bottle of earth honey, and a bottle of mushroom sauce, the most inside there are two large plastic bottles, a bottle of chili sauce, and a bottle of pickled beans.

Unpack the large woven bag, inside is simply a small showcase of agricultural products: sweet potatoes, peanuts, green beans, sesame, red beans, dried beans, dried lentils, sesame leaves, and other dried vegetables, all packed in plastic bags.

After taking out all these bags and bottles, they were piled up in front of the garage, like a small mountain. I called my husband to come down and help, and he laughed and joked, "You're not going home to see your mother, you're just a 'bandit in the village'." I laughed, my eyes a little damp.

My mother lived alone in the countryside, planted several acres of land, and raised a few chickens, anything produced in the land would leave me a little, the earth eggs they could not eat, all saved, left for me and my sister. Every time I heard I was going home, she prepared a bunch of things early, waiting for us to take them away. And we spend very little time with her, so what do we bring her?

I think not long ago, a friend came home and lamented: "You don't know, I opened the trunk, actually from the bag of vegetables turned out three thousand dollars too. My mother knew I was financially strapped after I changed houses and was afraid I wouldn't want it, so she secretly put the money in the bag." My friend's mother also lives alone in the countryside and sells vegetables for a living. My friend sometimes helps her out some but is politely refused. After the divorce, it is not easy to bring up a child alone, so her mother is extraordinarily distressed. The three thousand yuan, I do not know how many pounds of vegetables the mother had to sell in the morning and night to earn.

There is a kind of love, it is called the mother-loaded trunk. The trunk is not filled with ordinary food, that is the mother's strongest love and unspoken blessings.

After retirement, I was able to "reunite" with my mother; chatting became our daily routine.

My mother, who is 88 years old, is hale and hearty and has a strong memory. Although intoxicated by the happiness of life, there are still things that are not satisfactory. Because my stepfather left before her in their early years, over the years, my mother moved between Shanghai, Wuhan, Guangzhou, Shenzhen, Zhuhai, Chaohu, busy with children, busy housework, and finally because the homeland is difficult to leave, some years ago or back to this only 8 families in the Chaohu countryside to spend their old age, loneliness is a piece of my mother's heart disease.

Worried about my mother's loneliness, I moved to live with her. When I walked into this village, I saw a few of my childhood friends, and the village was mostly full of old, lonely men and women, waiting in spacious rooms with screens that looked extraordinarily quiet. Since my mother insisted on returning to live alone in the countryside from my second brother's house in Zhuhai, my eldest brother, who works in Shenzhen, financed the decoration of the three old houses. Added a TV, refrigerator, electric fan, installed a gas stove, solar water heater, running water, etc., all the living facilities, even the toilet was also transformed into flush squatting. The walls of the large hall are dominated by color and black and white photos, and it is my mother's little joy to look at her children and grandchildren in her spare time. When neighbors came to visit or relatives came to visit, my mother would always point to the photos, introduce them one by one, and tell a story. Amid the display, my mother was satisfied and smiled brightly.

When I visited the old house as a child, my siblings would look at me differently when my mother lifted the little meat on the table into my bowl at dinner time. The blinking eyes seemed to say, "Who are you to come to our house and eat all the good food? Their mother is also my mother, I am also my mother's flesh and blood, but also into the bones of the mother's ties.

I remember when I was five or six years old, during the hard times, I was so skinny and lonely that I walked nearly ten miles from Zhanghua Village to my mother's house. The door was open, and when I pushed open the hidden door, my mother was sitting on the bed with a printed turban, and my brother was wrapped in a thin quilt, waiting to be fed. When my mother saw me, she said, "Good boy, how did you get here?" Tears fell from my eyes like broken beads. Mother hurriedly got up, took out a paper bag from the bedside table, opened it layer by layer, and pinched a small ball of brown sugar (which she ate during the month) with her hands and put it in a large porcelain bowl with boiling water. I was so hungry and thirsty that I didn't care much and took the boiling bowl and drank it, which made me scream. These are also the most unforgettable "sweet memories" of my life.

During the day, my mother was busy with household chores, and I was playing second fiddle. When I looked at my mother, the wrinkles and changes were "written" on her face. My mother could not read, let alone write, but her amazing memory made me admire her. For example, she often contacted several children (grandchildren) and XiaGe set town cab driver Xiao Li, neighboring village electrician Lao Wang, fifteen or sixteen cell phone numbers, she would pull out the phone one by one key to dial. We chatted endlessly about the people around us, about friends and relatives, nephews and grandchildren; about ancestral lineage, past lives and present lives; about left and right neighbors, children and grandchildren's marriages ...... listening to her troubles and also sharing her joys.

Our mother and son cherish the time, inseparable, and also sleep in the same room at night; chatting in their respective beds three steps away from each other, a series of secret anecdotes, floating and flooding. As we talked, I responded from "hmm" at first to snoring in my sleep. When I was awakened by the early morning chirping of birds, my mother had already prepared breakfast and the first thing she said to me was, "Your snoring is so loud, all like my snoring." It's true that the old saying "you know your child better than your mother" is true. Day after day, those whispers into the heart and blood, clearing up the emotional ties between our mother and son.

Because of the disagreement between my biological father and mother, I did not live with my mother when I was young, and we both had unspoken problems. Those past events are unbearable to look back on; a long pant, abruptly floating down. Why can't you let go of those misfortunes and encounters in life, in front of your mother? The two old houses, one where I used to live, no longer exist today; but the old house where my mother lived, gave me a sense of belonging in my old age.

In the cold winter months, I can lean against the wall with my mother in the sun and talk about family life, filling up the space between heaven and earth, my heart is full, how pleasant. My mother raised me, and I will grow old with her, but I hope I will not be ashamed of my heart.