You are the most beautiful meeting in my life - my mother. You are a big book that you can't finish reading, the years make you reminisce about the past, let me write your story. - Inscription: Mother born in the 70s, unlike now, she has a mobile phone to play, TV to watch, and a high-tech computer. At that time, there were no high-rise buildings and famous mountains and rivers, only a small village and a group of crazy children, and my mother jumped up and down with the children in the village, playing games, climbing trees, breaking bricks, and playing ....... They have no one to take care of during the day, they don't stay home at night, they don't have to go to school, they don't have to do their homework, they don't have to worry about the teacher's criticism, I really envy her freedom.

The sky is dark, and the night is like ink. Under the moonlight, my mother carefully reminisced about the bits and pieces of my childhood, and I snuggled up to her and listened carefully. My mother's story seemed to have become a movie in my mind, plain and enviable, simple and compelling. I think of my mother when I was a child, the fun-loving mother, the grandmother who worked in water conservancy, and the grandfather who was a teacher but made a small business to make a living.

What my mother remembers deeply is that when she was a child, her grandmother would go to work for water conservancy every morning, and at this time, her mother couldn't bear the loneliness in her heart, and she always wanted to go out crazy, so she would set up a ladder one by one, gritted her teeth and climbed to the end, grabbed the wall, and rode to the wall. Even though Douda's sweat soaked her clothes, she would still stare blankly at the direction of her grandmother's walk. Sometimes, my mother would go to the walnut tree outside the house, hold the trunk and climb up, often sweating profusely, squatting on the branch or lying on the treetop and looking into the distance, until "the breeze is coming, the sun is blazing, and the twilight is shining...... After most of the day, my mother's mouth was dry, and even if she was hungry and thirsty, she would wait for her grandmother to come home......

My mother was not in good health at that time, she was very thin, and because she had only eaten for six months, her mother began to eat steamed buns at the age of eight, so she often got sick. The elder brothers and sisters in the village bully the young, and often bully their mothers and aunts while their grandmothers are away. When grandma is not there, they will close the door tightly, not only do not let the two sisters go out, but also secretly beat them, the mother and aunt who are single and weak will always be beaten by them and their noses and faces are swollen, but the playful mother will often "bribe" their boss in order to play with everyone- When my grandmother left, I gave them the lunch that I left for them, because at that time, many families were short of food, and they often did not have enough food and clothing, but because my grandfather often did some small business to help the family, the family situation was slightly better. Outside the house, under the leafy peach tree, was their paradise, where a group of children composed their notes.

Now that I think about it, I still envy my mother's childhood, although she was often bullied at that time, but after all, she was free, and she could still go crazy in the village at the age of seven or eight, and she could laugh and scold with a group of boys, and play "earth wars" together. Although the bumps of dirt are flying all over the sky, even the air is filled with the smell of earth, although the hard clods hit the body, even if there is a big bag on the head, it can be easily touched with your hands without care, and it will be fine, without the reprimand and discipline of teachers and parents, they can continue to fight, run, and make trouble, and even the sky above the village is full of their childhood laughter and memories.

The summer sun reflected through the layers of leaves, the ground was covered with sparkling spots the size of copper coins, the wind was blowing gently, and some children were running under the trees. When the wheat is on the field, the adults will bring a small bench to the field to chat, and the children will always accompany the mellow aroma of wheat to "hide and seek" and "play ........." between the wheat stacks. When the smoke disappeared from the black-scaled rooftops, they did not go home, and the grandmother and the other children's parents shouted loudly at the head of the village, "Cat Baby", "Dog Egg", "Come home!" Hearing the call of the mothers, they said goodbye with their mouths pouted and reluctantly, and snored in the symphony of insects. Hearing this, I really envied my mother's era, from daytime to sunset, my parents didn't beat or scold......

But there are also many cases of being bullied by older children. For example, they beat the rats to death, made a leaf "coffin" for the rats, dug a pit in the ground with shovels, and then buried them like adults, whistled, and buried them in the ground, and made their mothers, aunts, and other young girls kneel on the ground and cry with their throats, but when they didn't want to cry and couldn't cry, those hateful big boys beat them one by one, and then because of the pain, and the parents were not there, they cried aggrievedly, and finally created a sad atmosphere. The big boys were satisfied, and they stopped hurting. I thought: on the verdant field, the children should be running happily, and at this time the field is full of mourning, what a sigh!

At this point, the mother seemed to remember something again, and tears rolled in her pensive eyes. This incident was unforgettable for my mother and she often mentioned it to me. One morning when she was eight years old, the children in the village were playing "hide and seek" and "guerrilla warfare" in the pit yard, and her mother and aunt were so angry that they wanted to play, but they only agreed to join them if they ate steamed buns. But the buns were all divided by the mother, and there was no way. They asked my aunt and my mother to pick the family's small wildflowers on the cliff, and my mother obeyed their instructions, and she carefully picked the pink trumpet flowers one by one. The flowers on the edge of the cliff were all picked, but they deliberately made it difficult for them to pick the wild flowers off the cliff. Because the terrain was so high, they were too short to be picked. The playful mother thought of a "clever plan" with a roll of her eyes - grabbed her aunt's feet with both hands and hung her down, but her mother was only one year older than her aunt and weighed about the same.

Because her mother is faced with two choices, if she still pulls her aunt's feet, it will be two lives that fall to the ground. The mother wanted to call her friends to help, but no one found out, and everyone was having fun, so the mother only gritted her teeth and dragged it up, beads of sweat the size of beans rolled down, and her eyes were so persistent and scared...... But my mother still couldn't drag my aunt up, she was more than willing to do it. My aunt planted the wild flowers, and she was still pinching the flowers tightly in her hands...... At this moment, everything is still, and the child is no longer playing, quietly watching all this.

The aunt was unconscious on the spot, and the mother's was stunned and ran away like a smoke. The mother ran to her cornfield, squatted there alone, secretly wiped her tears, and waited until there was no one on the edge of the cliff to run over and look secretly. The people in the family hurriedly ran around to rescue the aunt, poured "children's urine" into the aunt with home remedies, pricked it with "needles", and invited a doctor to treat it...... It wasn't until the evening that the aunt woke up from her coma, and the mother breathed a sigh of relief and hid in the cornfield again. In the evening, the whole family went out again and began to look for the mother. She was so frightened that she lay on the ground, and she didn't dare to come out, and the adults called her mother's name, and they were on the field with lanterns, on the road, and looking for her mother in the field...... It was already dark, and it became quieter everywhere, and in a cornfield, my sleeping mother was carried home by my grandfather. When she returned home, her grandfather neither scolded nor beat her.

My mother told me that although the adults did not beat and scold her, she felt very guilty and regretted it in her heart, and she kept tying a knot in her heart, and she still did not untie it. When I was a child, my aunt only read third-grade books, and her math has always been 100 points, but her Chinese language is only twenty or thirty points, and she can't memorize Chinese characters, pinyin, and ancient poems in Chinese. Mother has always blamed herself: If she hadn't stimulated her aunt so much, her aunt's studies would have been very good...... I thought: What a hanging, if my mother and my aunt had fallen together, there would have been no me and my sister; if my aunt couldn't get up in one breath, then what would my childhood be like? If those savage children had a better heart, were not so playful, and didn't joke, they wouldn't have done so much harm; I still want to ...... Later, my mother went to normal, and my aunt got married at the age of 18...... Today, my mother is a primary school teacher, while my aunt is a rural woman.

Mother's "peach and plum" is all over the world, she is meticulous in her work, she treats people gently and generously. My mother's class was humorous and funny, which often caused the students to laugh out loud: my mother couldn't finish the "ink" in her stomach, and when she told stories, I always thought to myself: how could my mother have so many stories, and my mother's literary skills were also super good, very talented, but never publicized...... The theatrical programs in their class are always refreshing, and I often think: my mother is so smart, everything becomes easy and simple when it comes to her, and nothing seems to bother her. Mother is a traditional person and a cheerful person. In addition to commuting to and from work every day, she also goes to square dance. Lo and behold, the one standing in the front row was my mother, and she was dancing so hard!

Her mother's story is endless, and time, years, and bits and pieces of life have brought her too many stories. This is my mother—a mother who can endure hardships, is talented, has many stories, and has thoughts......

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