Xiaoxia, the weather has been a lot cooler recently, and when I go out, if I wear a skirt, I will feel that my legs are very cold. It wasn't very bright, and there was a cold look that made my mother suddenly afraid of such a time.

After a heavy rain, walking on the wet road, you can already experience the sight that time can only have in winter, and it begins to pass in the thin air. In such an atmosphere, loneliness spreads everywhere.

In the afternoon, when my mother went out to buy eggs, she saw the lake in a circle in the wind, and the sky also carried the color of the wind. There were a lot fewer children running around on the road than in previous days.

At the edge of the garden, my mother met a trembling old lady, who was on a winding path, hunched over, on crutches, with her head slightly tilted and tilted, and she stood there, as if she did not know where to go, and as if she had just stopped to rest.

As I passed by, she looked straight at me. I glanced at her, pretended to be at ease, and walked forward nonchalantly, and immediately turned my gaze away.

But in fact, that moment was very long, and we didn't have any specific exchanges, but at the same time, there was a very specific exchange of different latitudes, beyond language and writing. At that moment, our human beings were born into a life.

In such an autumn scene, a lonely young man like my mother and a lonely old man seem to be incompatible with life, but they are indispensable to this autumn scene.

Every time I started living alone, my mother was strange and had an extraordinary desire for eggs. Eggs are like another form of love, what love looks like when it actually exists. When there is companionship and love, mom doesn't think about it. But when there is no one around the mother, it will be very sudden and inexplicable, and she needs to eat eggs to make up for the emptiness in her heart.

When I was a child, my mother didn't often eat eggs, and she felt that the taste was bland, and if she ate a few more bites, it would clog her throat and make it difficult to swallow.

This feeling did not change until my mother went to another country and stayed alone for a few weeks, and suddenly the need for eggs popped into my head. After that, it's probably now.

Think about yourself should be a lucky person, there is such a straightforward and clear way to check and make up for love, but not everyone can find the problem so quickly, and have a familiar prescription.

In the early autumn, my mother walked alone by the lake, carrying a bag of eggs and a bag of rice, heavy, and the soles of her feet were pressed and tightly attached to the ground. There was no one sitting on the bench by the lake. In the past, when the weather was very hot, my mother remembered seeing a couple sitting there, not talking, each doing their own thing. At that time, my mother looked back many times, it was so hot, so dry, there were flying insects, flies and ants everywhere, but the two of them sat still.

I don't know if my grandfather's usual sneering look appeared on my mother's face that day, but now, the chair is empty, and my mother thinks of them, and thinks that the kind of leisurely and determined tourists is exactly what autumn lacks. It seems that we are all more afraid of desolation and less afraid of heat.

When I got home, I washed all the eggs, put them in boxes, and put them in the refrigerator, but I didn't get any to eat. When I went back, it was almost dark, and when I entered the room, there was only a little light lingering in the room. Mom walked around the room in the near dark, pacing from one room to another because of a trivial matter, imagining herself to be another person from time to time, observing her current appearance, maybe because the surroundings were too dim, but she couldn't see why.

Later, when it was completely dark, my mother sat in a dark room and cried for a while, and there was no special bad idea, it was a feeling like eating some dessert after a meal, and I felt that the trivial things were all done, and I cried as an epilogue.

In the past few years, there have been many similar comfort sketches in my mother's life, and they are like stars dotting my mother's day, every day.

Sometimes it's a burst of tears, sometimes it's a fantasy. No matter which one it is, it is very much liked by my mother, and my mother is full of greed, and the whole person will be immersed in it, savoring it, and unwilling to end.

It's a bit like some books about hungry and poor, or people in concentration camps eating, whatever the food, they have to chew it slowly and never forget to scrape the bottom of the bowl clean. Mom's little interest in her current is the same.

Tears are already a familiar daily event, but tears are very different now than they used to be. Mom felt that when she was crying, she could feel the same pleasure as eating candy when she was a child.

Tears, in my mother's case, are no longer an expression of affection that follows normal logic. That feeling is sad, so the logic of tears has become, do you want to feel comfortable, then let's look through the wound, or even lick it, let alone say that it's okay to tear some open, does it hurt, cry if it hurts, so I shed tears, the most amazing thing is that after slowly getting used to the pain, every time I get to the end, I feel like I'm conscious again, so I'm happy and comfortable. Crying is not initiated by sadness, but by wanting to be happy.

Crying, tearing open the wound and crying, so that mom feels comfortable.

Crying brings comfort, and so can fantasies. When I was alone in the dark, one of the pictures that my mother liked to fantasize about was being hugged, sometimes from behind, but more often my mother was lying down, being gently hugged from the front, and the scene was very much like an angel flying, falling down gently and hugging me. The advantage of fantasy is that you can do whatever you want, as long as you can satisfy the feeling you want, you can do anything.

In the fantasy, the mother will lick her tongue to experience warmth and love like tasting red wine, and she will not waste a little.

Xiao Xia, my mother feels that she is in pain with joy, or she may be in pain and happiness. Mom's thoughts about you and her disappointment in life and in herself are pushing her to the edge. Mom doesn't know if she will fall into the abyss or be reborn after she gets over this edge. Mom shoulders her feelings and soothes herself in her own way.

Later, late at night, my mother turned on the light, went into the kitchen to steam two eggs, fried a large plate of water spinach, and when I was thinking about what staple food to eat, my mother also opened two more eggs, stirred them, and made egg fried rice with chopped green onions, large chili peppers, and ham sausages. After everything is done, a copy will be given to tomorrow.

One night, the kitchen was very smoky, and my mother wore an apron with the god of kitchen written on it, reluctantly cooking and doing a good job of love, and slowly filling the gap of love at the edge of this stage of life.