The umbilical cord is connected, and the encounter is more than just an encounter. It is a good relationship cultivated in the previous life. I met my mother on a spring night, a belated spring. In early spring in March, the peach blossoms are brilliant. I was born into this world to inherit the joys and sorrows of my mother's life.

The fate is hard to describe. I believed in my mother and was reincarnated next to her. My mother trusted me and said that when I came, the spring scenery would be a bit sweeter. It was already in the mother's womb, connected with her blood and umbilical cord. I know her pain; she understands my joy. Later, as a baby, I was carried by my mother and wrapped in swaddling clothes. The young and bright hearts are excited for this new world, but the mother is tired of catching and hugging her, and her arms are sore. Not to mention that I, a baby who didn’t know the difference between day and night, cried out in the middle of the night, and my mother nursed me when I was tired and in pain. The older one is a little girl that everyone loves. She is clever and cute, with an outgoing and lively personality. She is the little sweetheart in the eyes of the neighbors and the easiest to make people laugh. They are mother's young leaves, mother's little flowers, sending mother fragrance and sweetness. I still remember that when I was five years old, my mother went to work in Guangdong and entrusted me to my grandma. Grandma was probably careless and did not take good care of me. I was also naughty and playful, and I was as dirty as a little cat every day. One day, I was playing in the sand in front of my house, and my mother came back. She felt sour when she saw me as an unlucky child. She never traveled far from home and worked not far from home to take care of me.

Now that I have grown up, I am like a green apricot, sour and hard. My mother has always been willing to be the branches and leaves, providing me with nutrition and care. As I entered adolescence, I rebelled even more, and conflicts between mother and daughter were commonplace. I am like the thorny pointed moon on the first day of the lunar month, the wild grass growing wildly in the wilderness, rebellious and stubborn, irritable and perverse, and my relationship with my mother is like a tight string. The arrows shot in both directions, stinging her and stinging me. I was furious and furious because I had a conflict with my mother on the road over a trivial matter and disdainfully reduced it to stones and grass. I gave my tenderness to friends and others, but forgot to keep a copy for her. She shook her branches and leaves furiously without etiquette, but my mother remained silent. After the quarrel, she devoted herself silently like thousands of trees and tolerated me, who was covered in thorns.

The moon rises over Nanshan Mountain, looking wandering and lost in thought. I sit alone on the window sill, and spring comes again. This is the seventeenth spring I have experienced, and it is the thousands of days and nights my mother has been worried about me. The peach branches pierce the sky, and you can grab a handful of spring breeze, a handful of peach blossoms, and look at each other with the river water flowing back to the spring of seventeen years ago, and the poems sent to the mother seventeen years ago. The moonlight was slightly cool, and I was silently recalling the past not far from my mother. I think of my good relationship with my mother and how I met her. My mother loves flowers and plants and serves them wholeheartedly, whether real or fake, which adds a little more vitality and greenery to the home. She is also kind to others. Because she fell in love with the chrysanthemums of an old man who lived alone. Although the old man said that she could dig them up, she couldn't bear it and bought some meat and vegetables as compensation. She also packed up my unwanted clothes and gave them to the poor man. Someone else’s child, and invited the little girl to come to my house to play. When I visited her home, I was deeply shocked because there was almost a mix of humans and animals. My mother loves to be tidy and tidy. She keeps her home clean and fresh, making people feel comfortable. She worried about me and taught me to be independent. Sometimes she is as cheerful as a girl, making my father and I laugh. I think my mother was a girl before! It was only because of me that I learned to be a mother. We are all exploring each other and regard each other as each other's mother or daughter, loving each other deeply, like the silent trees and green apricots under the moon.

Mother, dear mother, I have never said the three words "I love you" to you, and I have said that I am not in love with you in a fake and serious manner. But what child doesn’t love his mother? I still love the locust flowers you fried by yourself. Mother, mother! Our encounter is not an encounter, it is a good relationship cultivated in previous lives. Mother, mother! I love you, but I can't express it.

I will never forget your loving eyes and warm arms; Mother, let me hold your hand! There is a long road ahead, but only with you can I feel at ease!