In my memory, my mother's hands were so warm. Our mother and daughter walked hand in hand through the quiet path and stood on the small and exquisite stone bridge. She always raises her mouth, shallow and extremely satisfied. She held my hand tightly and tenderly, just like holding a precious lamb. Mother hummed softly: "Go, go, go, let's hold hands …" I sang in a crisp children's voice. In the bell of Song Like, there is a happy mother and daughter. At that time, I often fantasized about holding my mother's hand for a lifetime, just like holding happiness for a lifetime.
How time flies! I grew up and became a shy girl. I am busy with my studies and seldom communicate with my mother. Plus, I always thought I was growing up. How can a "big girl" haunt my mother's hand all day? At that time, I almost avoided my mother's hand.
Until later, one day, I went shopping with my classmates and met a mother and daughter. The young mother took her toddler daughter by the hand. She smiled, her face full of sweetness and satisfaction as a mother. All this is so deja vu, I just stood looking at the happy mother and daughter, and suddenly opened a door of memory, looking for the softest part; In the afterglow of the sunset, my mother took my hand, and the temperature of my mother's love filled my whole body. Holding mother's hand, 3 compositions, 3 compositions. Behind him, a pair of happy shadows snuggled together, as if they would never separate. My heart trembled, and almost in an instant I made a decision: I want to hold hands with my mother again!
When I got home, I made this request to my mother. My mother paused and didn't seem to believe it. However, she quickly agreed happily.
It's still the mother and daughter of that year, or the bridge of that year, but the daughter is tall and grown up, but the mother is short and old. Hold my mother's hand again, and the white and delicate hand has become rough. Although I can still feel the temperature of her palm, I feel the thick calluses on her hands, which seems to contain her decades of hard work and hardship. I gently took my mother's hand, red frostbite, cracks, as if telling her the vicissitudes of life for most of my life.
Holding hands this time, I made a decision:
Facing my mother's hand, I will take care of her with 1000 hands, because it is the hand that holds my youth; In the face of my mother, I will repay her with the love of my life, because "but how much love there is in every inch of grass, I get three rays of spring."