My father said to me: “Your mom can get lost at the door of your house now.” Mother whispered: “It’s dark at night, I can’t see it.” My
mother went to a relative’s house and took a ride back at night. The car was parked on the other side of the river half a mile away from home, and we arrived home after crossing the newly built bridge. But she just couldn’t find her way home, and stumbled in the opposite direction, getting farther and farther away from home. Fortunately, she met someone from the same village who came home late and sent her home.
Mother is old, this is an indisputable fact, she is no longer as neat and capable as before. I looked at my mother with mixed feelings, and remembered something related to her many years ago. I always thought it was a miracle.
That year, when I went to university in another place, I was away from home for the first time for hundreds of miles. It was like trekking alone in the desert. I was so homesick, so I wrote a letter from home, and the lines were full of loneliness. My mother was illiterate and asked her father to read it to her. After listening, she couldn’t sit still for a moment and decided to take a car to the school to see me.
My mother had never traveled far, and spent most of her life only in her one-third of acre. But she was determined, and no one could stop her. She went to the field to pull out my favorite radish, baked my favorite glutinous rice cracker, and burned small fish with pickled vegetables… Before she set off, she deliberately wore her guest clothes-a bright broken flower Green jacket. The mother was thoughtful, she didn’t want to embarrass her daughter who was studying in college.
The mother is on the road. At that time, to go to my school from home, I had to make two transfers in the middle of the journey. It will take more than ten miles to reach the terminal. When I entered the journal, my father accompanied me all the way. I got in the car and got off the car, walking through the streets and alleys. I turned so dizzy that I couldn’t tell the south, east, and the north, and couldn’t remember the way.
However, my illiterate mother found my school accurately. I clearly remember that it was a day at the end of autumn, when the evening came, the wind was blowing, and the plane trees on the campus fell into pieces of golden leaves. The last batch of chrysanthemums burned out the last enthusiasm in the autumn breeze. The yellow and red cheeks were full of wrinkles and smiles. I finished reading in the classroom and was about to pack my things back to the dormitory. When I turned my head, I saw my mother standing outside the window, smiling at me. I thought it was dazzled, rubbing my eyes, it was true, it was my mother! She is wearing a bright floral green coat and a checkered triangle scarf on her head. The triangle scarf was lifted by the wind, and the afterglow of the dusk coated her mother with a layer of orange-pink, she seemed to be stepping on the clouds.
That day, it was like a holiday in my dormitory. All the girls have a good taste. They ate the big carrots brought by their mothers, small fishes, and glutinous rice crackers. They kept saying, “Auntie, it’s delicious, it’s so delicious.” And the mother, just cautiously Sitting, smiling cautiously. At that time, there must be wind blowing across a crop field, and my mother was as simple and safe as a crop.
Along the way, how my mother got in and out of the car, and how she arrived at our school with twists and turns; later, how she found me in so many classrooms on the huge campus, it became a mystery.
I asked my mother, but she always smiled without answering. Now I think that these questions do not need answers at all, because she is a mother, so her love can come by stepping on the clouds.
