Growing love

As we grow up, we can see the footprints of love, the love of parents, the love of teachers, the love of friends, and so on. Our love is the best in our growth. Very deep, very sweet, constantly nourishes us and cares for us.

My mother is a housewife, because my father didn't want her mother to be too tired, so she didn't let her go to work. Naturally, my mother kept me stricter than others and looked better than others.

I remember that every time my classmates invited me to go out to play, my mother would find reasons to refuse me every time. I was obedient when I was young, so I had to slap my head and ask my mother to give reasons. I went to middle school, and I had more and more homework. I finally tried to relax and relax after I finished my homework. My mother said, "You look at you. Every time you write a homework, you can use coping style. You can't just write homework. You have to Prep, learn those good students!" Hey... every time is this line, and don't change something new! Really annoying! This time, I actually refuted my mother: "Every time you do this, every time you don't let me go out, every time I limit my personal freedom, I am bored!" But until that moment, I found that the restriction is also A kind of love.

On that day, I had more homework than before. I wrote very late. My sister was already asleep. I was still drifting in the sea of ​​homework. The night was so quiet. The white moonlight was shot from the window into the silence. I can only hear it. The pen is constantly making a "squeaky" sound in the silence like a sea breeze. The questions one by one are like me to the sea, and I want to swallow me. Mom always waits for us to finish my homework before going to sleep. "Did you finish your homework?" A gentle voice interrupted me. "Okay, it’s fast." I replied quickly. "Thirsty, come, drink some water." After she finished her mother, she went out. She inadvertently stretched out. After a while, I finished my homework and walked out of the door, only to see my mother lying on the sofa and sleeping. She kept her by my side. I looked at my mother. Her long hair was scattered on her shoulders. The two eyes on her head seemed to have a lot more "silver silk." On my mother's face, I saw the traces of the years, saw the traces of hard work, and saw the traces of giving me love. My eyes were red, I turned back, afraid that my mother would wake up and see, walked back to the room and saw The warm water on the table reminds me of my mother's greetings and love. I saw the footprint of love. Tears are no longer willing to be under my control, and I can't stop flowing through my cheeks and fall to the table. At this moment, I found that the restriction is also a kind of love. It is the mother who gives us a special love.

My mother didn't let me go out, it was for my safety. My mother asked me to study hard. It was for my achievements. My mother waited for me to finish my homework, in order to prevent me from being afraid. She is not that I am someone else, then I still have Is there any reason to refute my mother?

Maternal love is like a warm sun shining on my heart; just like sweet milk nourishes me - this hungry seedling; it is like an umbrella in the rain, giving me a clear, clear sky; it Like a lamp in the middle of the night, it gave me an exclusive bright.

The footprint of love is around us, only looking forward to our discovery. Every bit of growth is the love of our parents, a greeting, a reminder, a glass of water, and we grow up healthy under the care of our parents. What are we not satisfied with?

Second day: Woodpecker