Coming back from the Yellow Temple, I had a brief lunch and turned the air conditioner to my favorite 24 degrees Celsius.

I sat at my hotel desk, pulled up the curtains, turned on the lamp, spread out the paper, and meditated.

I've always had a desire to write something for my late mother.

With the extension of time, this desire is getting stronger and stronger, more and more vigorous, like a majestic river, rushing with the momentum of a thousand miles, especially today, in the Yellow Temple after listening to the Buddha's wonderful explanation, baptism, this desire is more like a volcano that has been stored for a long time, and finally found a breakthrough in the eruption, suddenly broke through time and space, and erupted out.

I picked up the pen and poured my weeping and blood onto the paper, expressing my deep thoughts and gratitude.

When the pen and ink were flying, my mother's smile and mother's words all flashed with vivid brilliance in front of my eyes. It didn't take long for the article to be completed in one go. What kind of title should you choose for your article?

I read the finished article from beginning to end, as if I was close to my mother again and smelled the smell of childhood.

Every time I go home, the first thing I do when I walk into the house is to take off my dusty leather shoes and put them on.

In this era when I am about to forget cloth shoes, I am not afraid that cloth shoes will cover the brilliance of my body.

Walking on a country road in cloth shoes, leisurely gazing at the ripe scenery around you, the comfort is really indescribable. The secular cloth shoes are not secular in the world, and the hustle and bustle of the city is all trampled underfoot.

The quiet countryside walks with simple cloth shoes, harmonious and beautiful.

Everything around is constantly changing, but the only thing that hasn't changed is the cloth shoes. The uneven country roads are the most suitable for cloth shoes, and only cloth shoes know the depth of the soil best.

Whenever I walk on the road wearing cloth shoes, the fragrance of mother's love rises like smoke from a corner of my memory, and a faint sadness hits my heart.

When I was a child, I was happiest every Chinese New Year, although I didn't have good clothes and pants to wear, but I could wear new shoes made by my mother, and show off in front of my friends, causing them to blush and greedy: the upper was black clicker, the instep was decorated with a neat "eight" shaped elastic fastening, and the sole was trimmed with white cloth, which was generous and beautiful.

I feel like wearing this kind of shoes, just like Pan Dongzi in "Shining Red Star" wearing a white-bottomed gangster singing the song "Red Star Follows Me to Fight", that majesty, that pride, that pride!

Everyone knows that my mother is the only one in the village who can make such sturdy and beautiful shoes!

On a sunny day after the snow, the melting snow on the thatched hut will knock on the green stone under the eaves, splashing rain flowers, which is picturesque. The mother hidden in the painting sits on the edge of the stairs under the eaves, facing the mild sun, beating cloth for us to make the uppers and soles.

Boil out a small sticky batter, first apply a layer on the door panel, then paste a more complete layer of old cloth, then apply a layer of paste on the old cloth, and then put the rags on the door panel, so that five or six layers are pasted. My mother said that if you want to make the uppers, you need to put a layer of black cloth on them, and the uppers will stretch and stretch.

After all the preparations were made, in the afternoon, the mother took out the sewing bag, took out the scissors, carefully tore off the dried shoe material attached to the door panel, covered the shoe pattern cut from cardboard shell, and cut it into soles or uppers in the winter sun...... The snow dripping from under the eaves could not alarm her mother, and the cloth shoes made her look focused and serene.

The sound of pulling the hemp rope with a big needle makes a sound of "zi-zi-zi-" with the beautiful sound of rain, and in the picture of flying needles and threads, the stitches of a pair of brand-new cloth shoes are filled with the milk of mother's love, and they are full like rain drops.

I remember when I was 9 years old, my mother made shoes for a winter.

On that cold and snowy night, my mother made the thirteenth pair of cloth shoes.

I was overjoyed, and I took them in the shadows of the lamp, and my mother said, "You can wear one pair of these thirteen pairs of elastic shoes a year, and you can wear them until you are twenty-three years old." Your daughter-in-law will make the shoes in the future. ”

Later, when I went to high school in the city, I saw that my classmates were either wearing snow-white sneakers, trendy travel shoes, or shiny cowhide shoes. And I, who exudes a strong local atmosphere, naturally stand tall with the cloth shoes on my feet.

I began to hate cloth shoes in my heart, and often tortured them in different ways.

Unfortunately, they are too sturdy, and a pair of cloth shoes can be worn for another spring and autumn. In order to stop wearing cloth shoes in the future, I desperately memorized and wrote, I swear, I must be admitted to university, I must wear leather shoes!

After fulfilling my college dream, I really put on leather shoes, and after I really put on leather shoes, I felt like I had lost something.

Turning out the cloth shoes from the bottom of the box, and putting on the feet, I felt that it was particularly suitable and warm, that kind of thick and simple, which could not be replaced by leather shoes. Sometimes walking on campus in cloth shoes, students often point behind their backs, and the bold ones whisper: "Teacher, why don't you wear leather shoes?" ”

I smiled faintly, noncommittal.

Children, do you know that when you put on cloth shoes, the teacher feels that her home is around you, and she feels that she is one with the land!

Last winter, Xiaokang, a resident student in the class, had chilblains on his feet, his instep was swollen flat, the ankle was red and dark, and some places were broken, his leather shoes could not be worn, and his sneakers were not breathable. I brought the thirteenth pair of cloth shoes from home.

He tried it with one foot, and it was just right for him not to be fat or thin.

He looked at me gratefully.

I've never worn cloth shoes, and I didn't expect them to be so light and comfortable, he says.

After the Spring Festival, Xiaokang came to school and brought me a down jacket. He insisted that I take it, saying that my father, who was the director of the down factory, had instructed me to wear it for my mother, even if it was a reward for those cloth shoes.

I was so sad that I held back the tears that were about to fall, and my hands were tightly gripping my down jacket, trembling slightly.

The student looked at me in amazement.

My mother has made shoes all her life, and it is not until today that I have made my first return, and I said that on the third day of making the thirteenth pair of cloth shoes, my mother, who was seriously ill, had left me.

That day, I was sitting in class and didn't even see my mother for the last time.

In fact, I had already finished reading the manuscript, but I was swept away by my own words and sentences, and the silent tears wet the manuscript paper. My mother seemed to be right in front of me, sitting in the light of the beans, making the thirteenth pair of cloth shoes. That classic ancient poem is like a voiceover:

The line in the mother's hand, the wanderer's shirt.

Before leaving, I am afraid that I will return late.

Who is careless and repays Sanchunhui?

Oh, mother, who is careless and repays Sanchunhui?

I grabbed my pen and wrote the title "The Thirteenth Pair of Cloth Shoes" on the first line of the first page, then stood up and collapsed on the bed.