Father loves mountains, mother loves water

Just like every child's childhood, I am also in the honey and whip, all the way so entangled. As the youngest member of the family, being oppressed and being pampered is inevitable, and the life of honor and disgrace often causes me to see the illusion of seeing the king in heaven. At that time, I still didn't understand why I was crying after I was beaten. My mother was also red-eyed and tearful. In short, my heart was unbalanced. I also sighed: You said that you didn’t follow me. Grab what to cry. Only when the most fat chicken legs are down, I feel that my mother loves me.

As I gradually realized that my mother would also hurt in my heart when I was beaten, my childhood years soon disappeared into the unknown dream of a certain summer.

We are in the midst of youthfulness, and we always feel embarrassed when we remember childhood, and we don’t even want to think about it. In this "Father's Love, such as the Mountain Mother's Love," the adult's long-awaited memory is vivid and affectionate. And we always think of the words of others, only to remember the parents who always accompany us but have not read them carefully.

The different experiences of growing up reflect the same care. In this book, the fatherly love of all ordinary people is so great. The love of parents in the world is actually revealed in one line, one letter, one small thing. Maternal love is a warm coat, always caring for your body; father love is a close-fitting vest, engraved around your heart. Father love mother love is the two heavy clothes on your body, always around you before and after, whether you are far away from the mountains, or at the end of the sea, the father and mother love are tightly wrapped around you.

In this book, we will feel the deep affection and deep gratitude. We will be more fortunate that we have parents who are always with us. We can appreciate the love and compassion of our parents from the trivial shackles. We can hear their hopeful comfort and encouragement. At the same time, we will also be embarrassed, for our growth is increasingly paying for the parents to quietly turn black and white hair, slowly deepen the wrinkles and their old years.

A lot of things will fade in our growth until they disappear, and the love of our parents will last for the rest of our lives. This book uses 93 love articles to evoke our attention and gratitude to our parents. It gives us a kind reminder, grasp the present, and sincerely thank you for expressing it in your life. Don't let the future and the rewards become regrettable in the future.

In fact, if you think about it carefully, it is not easy to be grateful and rewarding to your parents. When our parents are infinitely gratified by the achievements of their children, our care for our parents, a gentle hug, a small gift, and the subtle expression of gratitude will make our parents very touched. Just because this is the blood-stained family.

While reading this book, my heart has been shocked by a long-lost feeling, warm, this is a joy, awkward, moving, blame, glad, sad... These emotions are filled with every gap of my heart. Father loves mountains, mother loves water. This is the deepest and most persistent feeling in the world. It is the most valuable wealth in life. It is the source of our inexhaustible nutrition and motivation. It is a precious bag that we cannot forget to abandon. In our trajectory of growth, this family has a trace that can never be erased. We should cherish these imprints, seize time and opportunity, and send back our true love to our parents who have always loved us with life.

The years slipped past inadvertently. Behind every hurrying figure, his father’s caring eyes were getting farther and farther, and his mother’s familiar words gradually faded away. Parental care has never diminished, but on the way we grew up, we left the moving heartbeat on the roadside.

Don't hesitate, when you stop, use a grateful heart to deeply collect and ferment this family, warmth will stay in your heart.

The second day: the emotion of nothingness