Comb hair for mother

  This old comb, which has been used for many years, is extremely smooth, and it is also impregnated with a unique fragrance belonging to the mother. I use it to comb the hair of the mother sitting in the front, being careful to keep the hair from falling as little as possible.
  The weather was clear, and the sunlight directly hit the bedside table through the seven-story ward glass window. The sunlight of the early summer also shone on the top of mother’s head. With her back to me, her gray hair roots are clearly visible. Alas, how dark and thick long hair used to be, but now it is so thin, and only a small one is held in the palm of my left hand.

  I remember when I was young, I loved seeing my mother combing her hair when she opened her eyes in the morning. The hair, which had never been trimmed, was almost reachable, so she always stood in front of the dresser and combed, unable to sit. A comb combed slowly from the top of her head and had to be grasped in sections with her left hand. After combing all of them, tie back and forth with a black silk thread in the back of the head and tie it firmly; then pass a steel needle slightly thinner than the wool needle, and then put a long black hair hanging behind The steel needle was coiled around on the left and right, combing out a balanced and beautiful bun; then put on a black thin net, and then use four long clips to fix the shape from top to bottom and left and right; finally pull out the steel needle and insert a golden Dig ears, or wear hairpins with jade ornaments. At this time, the mother sighed in relief and gently thumped her sour arms; then, she set out to clean up the various combs on the dressing table. Sometimes, when she glanced at me in the mirror and peeked at her quietly in bed, she urged: “Look what, wake up before you get up.” I don’t know what the reason is. For the movement of my mother’s hair, I really look at it. Tirelessly. I envy the long hair in my heart, and feel that her skillful every move is very touching.
  I once asked my mother, why not cut hair once in a lifetime? She just replied: “Because your grandfather didn’t allow you to cut it when you were a kid, now your father is not allowed.” Her hair can’t be decided by herself. Is this the legacy of “three subordination and four virtues”? I have some pity on her. But on the other hand, it was also fortunate that she didn’t cut such beautiful hair, otherwise I wouldn’t see how she combed her hair in the morning.
  The mother is a typical old good wife and good mother. Although she was well-educated, since she remembered herself, she seems to have put all her energy into family affairs. She waited for her father’s daily life and meticulously made her father, who was quite accomplished in her career, return to home and became a completely helpless man. She also takes great care of her children. Although she has always hired a maid to do rough work at home, she always goes to the market to buy food in person. The towels and handkerchiefs used by the whole family also have to be rinsed by her own hands. . Our leather shoes are polished every day, and she will also wash our shoes on the weekend. So on Sunday morning, those big, small, black, white and black sneakers were often neatly placed on the balcony railings. At that time, I hated my mother very much. I was afraid that my classmates or acquaintances would see it by the door, but I ignored how the clean shoes on my feet came from.
  Of course, mothers are also very concerned about their children’s reading. She does not necessarily check or guide everyone’s homework, but just try to handle the trivial matters outside of class for us. Ashamed, I never sharpened a pencil before going to high school. There is a chest of drawers dedicated to stationery in our room. A variety of notebooks and manuscripts are stored in the lower drawers. The top two drawers have sharpened pencils on the left and used ones on the right. Sharpened pencil. After our brothers and sisters are out of school, everyone just needs to put the blunt pencil in the pencil case into the small drawer on the right, and then remove the sharpened pencil from the left drawer to do their homework. There was no electric pencil sharpener in the past. It seems that even a hand-cranked one is rarely seen. Every pencil was sharpened by the mother with the sharp Shilin knife. In retrospect, my mother loved us too much, but we took it for granted at the time and were not grateful. Once, after school was late, the sharpened pencil had been taken away by others, and I actually fought with my mother for this. There are so many trivial things in the family, I really can’t imagine when the mother did these extra jobs.
  The years have passed, the children have grown up, and the mother has unknowingly aging in the joy of our busy growth. Wrinkles appeared on her beautiful face, and her hair gradually became gray and thin. Over the years, I have been dedicated to taking care of my own small family, and I have been busy raising my children, so I can appreciate the love of my mother in the past. I can no longer get along with my mother every day, nor can she see how she combed her hair in the morning light, but I was surprised that the bun had become significantly smaller. She still wore her bun in the same style, but the black hair that once covered her back neck was now less than a quarter of the original weight.
  In recent years, the mother’s body has been much worse than before. Due to the declining heart function, the doctor had to perform a surgical operation for her and put a matchbox-sized dry battery under the epidermis of her left chest. This is her first surgery in her life. She was very scared, and we were all worried. Fortunately, everything went well, after a night of sleep. My mother finally survived.
  A few days later, the doctor allowed the mother to get out of bed to promote wound healing and restore strength. However, the mother suddenly became very weak, no longer the fearless woman who protected us from the front wing. She needs care, needs to rely on, especially the dry battery that is not used to her body, and can’t face it even if she dare not touch it. She was so addicted that she refused to be bathed by the special nurse. In the end, I had to come forward to convince. Every other day, I scrub her body. At first, both of us were a bit worried. The mother kept mumbling: “How can I ask my daughter to bathe me!” I used a less skilled technique to carefully wipe her body. Unexpectedly, she gradually relaxed, and finally let me take care of me softly. My fingers unconsciously took a motherly kindness and tenderness, lovingly bathing my mother. I believe that when I was young, my mother must have bathed me so kindly and tenderly. So, I suddenly couldn’t tell the direction of my family, as if the aging mother in front of me was my darling baby. My heart is filled with noble maternal love.
  After taking a shower and changing to clean clothes, my mother felt very comfortable and even asked me to comb her hair that was messed up because of a long bed. We pulled a chair to the window. From here you can see the building across the road. Behind the building, there is a green mountain covered by white clouds, above which is a blue sky.
  At first, we chatted about unimportant topics. Soon, it became a soft whisper of me alone. My mother was sitting with her back to me, so I couldn’t see her face. Is Xu already sleepy? I think she probably fell asleep comfortably, like a baby after bathing … shh, lighter. I gently combed her hair gently, according to the process in my childhood memories. Don’t disturb her, don’t disturb her, let her sit like this and take a nap comfortably.