Composition of maternal love

Time flies like running water, and many memories fade with the passing of days. But there is something that makes me vivid and moved-that deep maternal love.

The weather in September is always somewhat unpredictable.

I remember that morning, I was going to school with my schoolbag on my back. At this time, my mother, who couldn't go to work because of a high fever, staggered over and slowly raised her hand and handed me an umbrella. She said weakly, "Xue Fei, the weather forecast says it will rain today ... uh-huh ... you'd better take an umbrella." I looked up at the blue sky, looked at the big sun like a fireball, and thought: How can it rain? I threw down my umbrella and ran out of the door, only to hear my mother's cough and weak voice behind me.

In the last tutorial class, I saw big drops of rain hitting the window glass and making a rhythmic "tick" sound. Oh, no! What a surprise! I can't help regretting that I didn't listen to my mother and took my umbrella with me this morning. Only now did I realize the seriousness of the problem. Dad worked overtime at work, and mom got sick again. It is impossible to pick me up! What shall we do? It seems that we have to go back in the rain. Thinking about it, the bell rang, and I slowly packed my bag. I walked to the window and listened, but I couldn't help complaining about the unlucky rain. Seeing that some of the students around us were picked up by their parents, some walked out of the classroom with umbrellas, and some students simply rushed into the rain curtain, shouting: The feeling of being caught in the rain is really cool! "So, I also got up the courage to rush into the stormy world and bite the bullet to taste the taste of' cool'." Wow! What a heavy rain! "Before I rushed to the school gate, I was soaked to the skin and became a' drowned rat'. Wow! Parents stood outside the school gate, only to see them holding umbrellas and wearing raincoats, standing there anxiously looking in, looking for their children among many students. That scene suddenly moved me! All right, let's go! My parents are not coming anyway. I squeezed out the "parent wall" and continued to fly in the wind and rain, hoping that my parents would suddenly appear in front of me, even if they wouldn't hug their children lovingly like those parents at the school gate, at least they would wipe a handful of rain on my face ... "Feifei! "Hey, how does this sound so familiar? Like mom's voice? Well, maybe I was so absorbed in thinking that I had hallucinations. I shook my wet hair hard and continued to struggle. " Feifei, stop running. "This familiar voice sounds a little weak, and it rings in my ear again." Mom! " "I can't help but let out a cry and stopped in a hurry. Looking back, the strong wind mixed with heavy rain seemed to engulf the weak mother due to illness. She walked towards me with difficulty step by step. "Xue Fei, take the umbrella away quickly." I quickly put my raincoat on my body and looked at my mother who had already been beaten by the wind and rain. I only feel that my mother's face is getting paler and paler, holding her cold hand, and I only feel a hot "rain" flowing into my mouth, salty and sweet. ...

An umbrella holds up a sky. Motherly love-this umbrella gave me a happy childhood. When it comes to "mom's concern", we have to talk about mom learning to cook.

Before I was born, my mother didn't know how to cook. After I was born, because my father often worked overtime, my mother never dared to eat for my health, so she had to bite the bullet and learn to cook. Since then, as long as there are colleagues who can cook in books and TV programs related to cooking, my mother has never let go. I was distressed to see my mother's delicate hands cut and burned, but my mother refused to give up. As the saying goes, many things grind. My mother can not only cook now, but also often make some nutritious food suitable for children, which attracts all the children in the neighborhood to come to my house for dinner. But behind these, only I know best what my mother did!

Mother's care is like a breeze-when I have sweat; Mother's care is a drop of tears-when I was sick, my mother waited for me anxiously; Mother's care is a folding umbrella-when I meet the wind and rain outside; Mother's care is a warm harbor. ...

Mother's Day is coming, and the streets and alleys are filled with the fragrance of carnations, as if waving to passers-by, "It's time to bless mom".

There is a middle-aged woman beside her, staring at a carnation in a daze. Does she want her children to send her one? My eyes shone with the light of asking for credit, and my expression was the same as my mother's. I suddenly trembled: My mother and daughter have grown up so big that I have never sent you a flower.

In my childhood memory, I blame my mother because she didn't give me a warm and happy home and a happy childhood like other people's mothers.

My mother is a typical professional woman. She keeps house diligently and methodically, but her mother has a bad hobby-nagging, so she and her father often quarrel. Maybe their marriage war started before I was born. As long as I can remember, my mind has been full of "smoke of war" and "chaos on the battlefield" How sensible I am, how can I judge people's color. I always clean up the battlefield afterwards and walk with tears in my eyes. So, I formed a habit. Every time I hear loud talk or hawking, I feel inexplicable palpitations, thinking that my mother is nagging my parents to quarrel. This habit was slowly changed when I left home to study far away. So my dislike for her has been deeply rooted since I was a child. Naturally, every time she quarrels with her father, I will blame her inexplicably and ignore her in a rage.

I remember once, the night before I took the entrance exam, my father came home after drinking. As soon as I entered the door, I heard my mother shouting and cursing, and her voice was thrown very high. Father didn't wake up and insisted. A big war broke out inevitably, and cries, curses and fights filled the whole room with alcohol. My brother and sister cried and looked at the broken furniture all over the floor. I threw away the materials for preparing for the exam and shouted at my mother, "You are sick. When he is drunk, you know what you are arguing with him. You don't want a divorce. " My mother looked at me stupefied, with tears in the dim light, unkempt hair tilted to one side, and her mouth kept shaking, trying to say something, and her mouth was still stained with blood. I couldn't stand it any longer and ran out without saying "I hate you". I stayed at my classmate's house for one night and watched other people's mothers prepare exam materials and food for their children. I swallowed my tears and hated my mother even more. Later, I heard from my sister that my mother prepared food and luggage for me in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, I didn't go home to get it. My mother stood on my way to school, with tears in her eyes, sighed and looked at me angrily. I felt sad when I imagined my mother's scene, but I still didn't forgive her because I didn't get into my dream school.

Since then, I have misunderstood my mother more and more, so that I haven't been home for half a year. One day, I got a call from my mother saying that I was in a hurry to go home. I panicked and had a hunch that it would not be a good thing. I hurried home and saw that my relatives and neighbors surrounded the whole yard, and the steps were filled with large and small medicine bottles. Several doctors are busy with medicine bottles and infusion sets. Tears blurred my eyes. Poor little brother was lying on the bed in front of me, and his mother didn't cry. There is no expression on his pale and haggard face. The trembling mouth opened and closed, as if to say something. Only those muddy and bloodshot frightened eyes looked at the doctor angrily, hoping to get some comfort from him. When the doctor shook his head and said that he was helpless, when his brother stopped breathing, and when the crying filled the whole crowd, she was no longer silent. She beat her bed like crazy, cried twice, and then fainted. For a mother, nothing is more painful and helpless than watching her child die. My sister and I helped her into the room. She opened her weak eyes slightly and said softly, "Mom, I'm sorry I didn't make you happy. If you want to blame me, blame me for not taking good care of you ... ""Mom, don't say anything, you have a good rest. " I sobbed and wiped her face with an ice towel. This is my first time to wipe my mother's face. Looking at her aging face and dyed white hair, her weak body is still shaking slightly. For the first time, I found that my mother was so desolate. She is just a weak woman struggling on the road of life, a wife who has devoted all her youth and body and mind to her family, and a mother who is helpless in the face of her son's death. She also needs love, too much love and care, and who gave it to her? Her parents? Her husband? Her children? No, they just asked her for it and trampled on it without stint. Who really cares about and understands her? Mom, my mom, why didn't you tell me about your pain? I have hurt you more than once. How can I forgive myself?

My mother has changed a lot since then. She doesn't nag endlessly like before, her voice is not so sharp, and her war with her father is not so frequent, but she smiles a lot less. Seeing her smile occasionally is just a sad touch. Occasionally, her mouth will open and close trembling, and her turbid eyes will still look at it angrily and say nothing, but I know that she is deeply sorry, complaining and guilty for not giving us a happy family.

It's time for me to do something for my mother. My son wants to support me, and I will regret it for the rest of my life without my relatives. I picked up the phone and dialed the long-lost number. My mother's familiar and unfamiliar voice came from inside, which once made me so scared, so palpitation and so disgusted. Now it sounds so warm and full of love. "Mom, I will go home to see you in a couple of days." "Really? What time? Then you should be careful. " Mother said with a smile, but I clearly heard the sobbing on the phone. My mother must be thinking about what to cook for me.

I walked to the flower shop, and the dazzling array of carnations were in full bloom, as if welcoming the arrival of summer, just like my mother's smiling face. The poor inherit the tradition. Like thousands of mothers in Qian Qian, Qian Qian, our mothers are worried about waiting for their children. They have devoted all their body and life energy to this, giving all their love and heart to their families and children, with no regrets. In spring, silkworms will weave until they die, and every night, candles will cry dry the wick. "What a beautiful carnation! How much maternal love you have! Let me introduce myself first.

My father "left", and now I am a freshman relying on my mother's physical strength. I always think about everything my mother has done for me, and my heart is full of love and gratitude for my mother. I tried to understand my mother and be a good son, and I also proved myself to be a good son with my actions.

Unlike boys, I am sentimental. I always think of my parents, because I watched a scene on TV, so my eyes are always full of tears, and I always think of my parents' kindness to me. In this way, when I have the idea of going to Internet cafes and am tired of learning, I will control myself to try not to go and be a good boy.

Actually, my Chinese is rubbish, but I pay more attention to practice. I regard life as a composition paper, and use my most delicate thoughts to be a person who won't regret it and write my own life composition.

Look at me. I said so much. Let's keep it simple.

Put yourself in a quiet enough place. When everyone is disturbed, think about whether you are a good boy in life, whether you are too selfish to forget your mother, whether you have no regrets when you look back on your life, and whether you really bring the perfect self in your composition to life. .......

I think the composition about maternal love and affection is not written, but made. Let's practice.