There is such a pair of hands that can hold me in a warm embrace and make me feel happy and cozy; there is such a pair of hands that can patiently pull me so that I can learn to walk and run; there is such a pair of hands that can point out the way for me to move forward, and teach me to do things meticulously ......These hands, belonging to my Mom.
Mom's hands are warm hands. I remember one time, my hand fell hurt, but also out of blood, pain I wow cry. My mom was so anxious that she found a band-aid and put it on my hand. But I was still crying, so my mom touched my forehead with her warm hand, and I stopped crying. Because mom's hand gave me infinite warmth.
Mom's hand is a hand of encouragement. Another time, I have a math problem can not do, meditation under the head but not enlightenment, had to go to ask my mother. She patiently explained to me with her wise hand on the notebook, and I immediately understood the math and the answer to the math problem.
Mother's hands are a pair of dexterous hands. Mom's cooking and soups are the most fragrant and delicious in the world. There are cola chicken wings, cold seaweed, cold cucumber, purple cabbage pot ...... I often do wind and sweep away!
This is mom's hands. I love mom's hands!
Mom's hands
In memory, those hands, I will never forget, it accompanied me through how many springs and autumns. Those hands are gentle, dexterous and rough. That was mom's hands.
When I was a child, when I went out, my mom would always hold my hand carefully, for fear that I would lose it. That is, mom's hand is delicate, as warm as the sun, passed into my hand. And I also tightly hold my mom's hand, is so happy, so satisfied, so safe, and do not dare to lose, as if a loose hand, mom will leave me. Gradually, hand-holding has become a habit, if one day, mom forgets to hold my hand, I will also take the initiative to pull that familiar and warm hand, that is worth me to rely on the big hand.
My mom cooks delicious fluffy cakes, bakes toast, and fries a golden scallion omelet ...... Many of my classmates envy me that my mom has such deft hands. Late at night at 9 o'clock, the kitchen egg beater is still "popping" sound, that is my mother in the second breakfast for me, fluffy cake is like a bed, soft, with a finger gently pressed, will gently pop up, and soon the pungent fragrance will drill into my nostrils. How much of mom's love is contained in it. Early in the morning, the kitchen at six o'clock will ring a burst of frying pan wonderful song, that is my mother in the toast for me. Maybe in other people's eyes, toast rolled in just two pieces of bacon, but in my eyes, toast rolled in my mother's love and care. Because of this love, the toast is no longer ordinary.
When I was a child, I had a relationship with the electronic piano, thanks to my mother, who encouraged, supported and supervised me to make progress day by day. That time, my mom hit me for playing the piano. A slap fell heavily on my cheek, hot, so hot, and so painful. For the first time I felt abhorrent to those big hands, I just played two wrong notes, why should I be so harsh to me. But after that performance, it hides the feelings of a mother who expects her son to become a dragon and her daughter to become a phoenix. Perhaps, while those big hands hit me in the face, mom's heart felt like being stabbed by countless needles.
Mother's hand is beautiful, no matter whether it will become old; mother's hand is elegant, although the time child will become cranky; this love is holy, even if the sea withered, I will also put this heavy love in mind.
Mother's hands
I have touched many people's hands, there are little sister's tiny red hands, there are grandparents' sinewy hands, there are mother's rough hands, there are father's sturdy and powerful hands, what I appreciate the most is mother's pair of rough hands in my heart. Mom's hands you gave me and our family infinite love and care.
One night I suddenly fell ill, my father was not at home, and there was no car in the middle of the night, my mother even carried me to the hospital. In the hospital, mom has been guarding my side despite the labor, and with her rough hand touching me. I fell asleep under the comfort of my mom. The next morning, I woke up to find my mom's eyes red, I knew she had not slept all night. I couldn't help but grasp my mother's rough hands, tears dripping down on the back of my mother's hands. While drying my tears with those rough hands, my mom gently said, "Son, where are you uncomfortable?" I shook my head. Mom got anxious and gently lifted my hair that had fallen out in front of my forehead behind my ear, "Then why are you crying?" "Mom, you'll stay up all night without closing your eyes." Mom heard, and then patted my face with the rough hands and said with a smile, "My baby girl knows that she loves her mother, and I'm happy to work hard!" At this time my chest overflowed with mother's love to build happiness.
Mother's hands, in winter, frostbite. Both hands are red and swollen, and will fester over time. But mom's profession is a doctor, and she has to wash her hands a lot. When she came home, she also had to help us do housework. Several times I saw my mom's hands bleeding from the cracks after washing clothes. I really saw it in my eyes and felt the pain in my heart. But mom endured the pain every time and never shouted a word of pain or tiredness.
Mom used her hands to create a happy and warm home for us. It is because of her hands that our family is so happy.