………

Conversations similar to “boring and sweet” always appear at different stages of my life or in different environments. The wording is different, but the content is broadly similar.

Just like the lovers in TV dramas, they always ask each other "Do you love me?" "I love you..."

It is impossible for me to ask such boring questions to others. question. And only towards my mother, would I be so coquettish and shameless without any restraint. This is our common tacit understanding. From childhood to adulthood, it has always been there.

However, I replaced the word "love" with "like". Because, I have no doubt about a mother’s true, selfless and unconditional love for her child. I know that there will never be anyone in this world who loves me more than my mother (oh, how embarrassing it is for my father). In addition, the most gratifying thing for me is that in this world, I will always be deeply loved by someone. How happy it feels to be loved forever!

But every time I ask my mother, if I were particularly bad, would you still like me? My mother said, "My mother also likes you. No matter whether you are beautiful or ugly, or what you are like, my mother likes you. You are my mother's child. If my mother doesn't like you, who do you like..." I almost Just keep asking, "What if it's not". However, I didn't ask after all. I knew this and there would never be an if.

Except for the little lot next to my ear, I look nothing like my mother. My mother's personality is lively and cheerful, loves to talk and laugh, and can talk to anyone and make friends.

She also writes very elegant and regular handwriting, which is similar to regular script. My mother is very handy and has a "treasure box" that contains all kinds of special scissors, equipment for removing stitches, as well as all kinds of odds and ends, beads, fabrics, etc. No matter whether my clothes are torn, damaged, tight, fat, ugly, or out of date. My mother will definitely find a way to repair and decorate it to make it look much better than before.

My mother is my royal chef and is "famous" for her cooking. My mom is also my doctor and hairdresser. I usually get acupuncture, get a haircut, etc. Of course, it’s not a problem. Back in the day, my mother was also famous for her proficiency in poker, so naturally I was influenced by it. Whether it's playing cards, jumping rubber bands, chatting with me, taking care of me... Anyway, there seems to be nothing that can trouble my mother.

My mother is also very easily moved. Watching a movie, she burst into tears before I could do anything.

So I was very surprised, how could my mother give birth to a child like me. I am selfish and indifferent by nature, and I am not good at talking and communicating. I'm lazy at heart, my hands are clumsy, I can't do anything, I can't learn anything... I'm just a little whiter than my mother.

People like me deserve to be disliked by no one in my life.

No matter how bad I am in the eyes of others, in the eyes of my mother, I have always been sensible, quiet, kind, cute, and smart. A gift God gave her that made her proud.

My mother has always said, "I just hope that I can be happy and grow up healthily for the rest of my life." But, I am so capable!

When I was a child, I could cry very much. I would play crazy outside every day and was unwilling to stay at home. Every few days my knees would get weird new injuries. A tanned child crawling out of the mud. As for my mother, she really likes to dress me up and buys me all kinds of beautiful clothes. I go to the photo studio every year for my birthday to take artistic photos. I am quite capable of beauty. Put on some makeup, pose, it's all in style. Every time I go out on the street, my mother says, "I'll take you back." I always don't want to, and then I hold my mother's hand to keep my balance, and we walk happily on the train tracks. Go, go. After walking for a while, we go farther and farther. The afterglow of the setting sun reflected in the orbit was sparkling and golden. It's so warm, so beautiful...

At the same time, what happened was my daily war with my mother. I have a bad temper and I always argue and argue with my mother over trivial things. My mother may also be young and energetic, so she can't cure me at all. He beat me with a fly swatter and a broom every day. Just talking about fly swatters, I don’t know how many of them I broke. If they hit me, I will cry hard, shout as hard as I can, and run away for my life. So I had a hoarse voice when I was little. Hit me and I started to hate her.

I remember one time, I was very angry, so I wrote her a "letter" with a pencil. The general meaning is "*** (my mother's name), I hate you, no one of us can talk to anyone!" and then there is his own signature. After I finished writing, I curled up in the narrow gap of the aluminum alloy window and refused to come out. My mother still didn't hold me down, it was my father who did.

Another time, I actually threw my shoe at my mother. At that time, my mother's helpless and surprised eyes and slightly trembling body will never be forgotten in my life.

Another year on New Year’s Eve, my mother and I had a quarrel over fried dumplings. I am picky and will not eat dumplings until they are fried. So every year my mom would fry it for me. But that year maybe it was because I wanted to watch the fireworks first and come back to eat dumplings. Then because of the time schedule, I can’t remember what happened.

In short, I was so angry that I ran out without watching the fireworks or eating the dumplings. I was hiding alone in a snowdrift. It was extremely cold during the Spring Festival in Northeast China. I almost froze to death. Later, in a daze, my mother cried and hugged me back.

When I grew up, especially after I went to study and live outside at the age of 13, my mother never hit me again. I almost never had any quarrels with my mother.

When I first left my mother, I was very upset. Just like when I was a child, I took a bus to Changchun with my mother. The journey was not far. My mother always carried me up to occupy a seat first, and then went down to buy tickets or use the toilet. Then I looked around, very anxious. I was afraid. I was afraid that the cars had started driving and my mother hadn’t come up yet. What should I do? Only when I saw my mother come back did I feel relieved.

In order to save money, my mother and I bought a ticket. I was dishonest, just hanging around on my mother's lap. The car was stuffy and hot, maybe without air conditioning, and I felt motion sick. Because there was nothing to fan the wind, my mother would always lift up my skirt and blow me cool air with her mouth. Then he comforted me: "Sleep, sleep, I'll be there when you wake up." I changed various positions in my mother's arms and finally fell asleep. I also arrived at the station and got off the car. It was my mother who was vomiting violently on the side of the road. She suffered from motion sickness more than anyone else.

However, I know that the journey of life in the future cannot be like being in a carriage. I have always been protected and accompanied by my mother. I have to learn to stand on my own feet. We can't go down from the tenth floor of my aunt's house to the playground alone like I did when I was a child, and then press the wrong elevator and just cry in the unfamiliar corridor.

My mom, don’t worry, let me go and play by myself. But when I can’t be seen in the playground. She will go crazy. She was too afraid, too afraid of losing me.

When I was in junior high school, my mother wrote me letters every day and then read them when I got home. I was in school, and I wrote letters to my mother when I had time. I felt that life was not going well, and I started crying as I wrote. Just clamoring to go home.

Including my senior year in high school because of intense and intense study. My whole person has become a bit uncertain, sometimes like a ticking time bomb.

It’s not about being too stressed, failing the exam, or feeling confused and powerless. It’s all kinds of conditions happening to the body.

When I was in high school, I called once a week. Every phone call always vents this negative emotion. Even at four o'clock in the morning when I couldn't sleep every night, I called my mother crying and said that I really couldn't go on anymore. There is no need to take the monthly exam early the next morning.

My mother always tries her best to comfort me. But sometimes I get angry and say, "If I don't stay strong like this, don't talk to me anymore."

There are many other things, hey, how fragile I am and how inconvenient I am. Just because she is my mother, does she have to accept all my negative emotions and accept this self that I always dislike?

My mother, she is more miserable than me. She was so eager to see the lively, healthy, positive and optimistic me again.

Every time, I share my good results with her, or tell her all the interesting things that happened. She always likes to listen and is very patient. Even if I had a few hours off on Sunday, I would tell her what I went out to do and what delicious food I bought.

My mother cherishes the opportunity to talk to me once a week, and will even read me touching stories on the phone about where she saw it. (It’s not long-distance anyway, and we can’t afford it in Beijing. Besides, I didn’t bring a smartphone with me in high school.)

We shared each other’s stories and would call each other for an hour, sometimes two hours. Because I only have one day, Sunday, where I don’t have to stay two or three nights. Beat the lights until the lights go out, beat the classmates until they fall asleep, and then whisper in a low voice. Until I had to sleep...

During that period, my mother’s encouragement to me was rather cliché. For example, "Everything will be fine", "In my mother's heart, you will always be the best", "Don't put too much pressure on yourself, it's already good to do this" etc... But it still plays a big role.

At least, I never really thought about giving up. He didn't really go home willfully, and he didn't really commit suicide by jumping into the river. Hahaha .

No matter what kind of day it is, my mother (and my father) are always by my side. Let me know that I am never alone. It's not really that annoying that no one loves him. At least someone likes me.

Now, enter college. It is a relatively new stage. My biggest feeling is that my mother seems to be more worried about me than before. For example, sometimes the voice will say "Baby baby, what are you doing, what are you doing?" Then I didn't see it, and there would be a series of calls. When I asked her what was going on, she said it didn't really matter. I was speechless.

For the first time, I felt so "important" because someone cared about me so much.

If you buy me some clothes, you have to take a photo and send it to me. Ask me how it looks. To be honest, if my mother follows my aesthetic taste, her taste is pretty good. So she mailed it to me. Why did she like to buy things for me? Besides, I am too lazy to buy them now.

No matter what topic I talk about, there will never be a silence or no response.

This kind of guest-level treatment is "refreshing" in one word.

Sometimes soon after I post on WeChat Moments, my mother will come over and ask: "Baby, what do you mean by posting this? Does it make people confused?" She always laughs for a while, and then Explain to her.

No matter what articles I write, even others are not interested in reading them at all, or they are rejected outright. My mother would always say, wait until she finds a large chunk of time to take a good look at it. Because she cherishes and cares about every word her daughter writes.

The most embarrassing thing to say is that the greatest value of my writing, whether it is public or private, seems to be the reward my mother gives me.

Hey, this is my mother. There are almost no secrets between me and my mother.

My mother likes me and likes children. More caring. I can't do this. To be honest, I don't like children at all. So I used to tell my mother, "My child, she didn't remember anything when she was little, so what's the use of being so nice to her?"

My mother would always laugh and scold me for being selfish while telling me this. The experience of raising me as a child. "If you don't raise a child, you don't know your parents' kindness." This is what my mother often said to me, and she felt deeply about it. "It's not easy to raise a child." "Because you don't know how you grow up."

My grandma passed away very early, and my grandma was suffering from mental illness at that time. So I was almost entirely raised by my mom. 24 hours a day, we are truly on call at all times. Even when you go to the kitchen or use the bathroom, you have to think about me sometimes. I couldn't sleep well in the middle of the night. I would always wake up and touch her side to see if I was there or if it had fallen to the ground...

My dear mother. I have been writing lyrical compositions about maternal love for more than ten years. I also wrote many articles randomly when I had nothing to do. However, I feel that I have never written about you truly and systematically.

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. Consider this article a gift to you. Although Mother's Day is always reminded by others as a holiday every year, I never forget to say "Happy Mother's Day" to you on the phone. However, I have never given you a gift. I know you don't like flowers. However, this is my love letter, please accept it.

In your heart, I seem to always be that little baby who never grows up. I was put on your lap and rocked, rocked, rocked. I don’t know what happened, but I grew up just as I was shaking. I went to elementary school, junior high school, high school, and then college... Every time I attended other people's weddings, I would watch the woman's mother cry. You will always say to me with emotion, "Hey, I really can't imagine how reluctant your mother was when you got married." "You can't marry so far away like so and so, and never come back for several years... ..." Then I laughed, "Who am I marrying? There are still eight hundred years left."

Anyway, I will always feel very sorry for you. You see, I have nothing and can’t do anything well. How can I be called proud? But because of this, I have to work hard, learn to take responsibility, and deal with problems! I can't let down the people who love me. I want you to share my happiness!

I sent you a photo that day, and your words "Oh, my baby has grown into a big girl" really made me feel a lot...

As for me, I must You have to work hard to grow up and act like an adult. My mother is also old. Looking at the photos of her when she was young, her face was fair and chubby, but now it is completely sunken. They are almost completely different. Many diseases began to attack my mother. I really want to get rid of them!

No words can express my love for you. What I hope most is that mom, you must be in good health and be happy every day. Live a good life! Let’s stop writing here.

——2016, 05,07