At that moment, my world is spring blossoming.

Clear, rain; people, broken souls.

I was kneeling on the window sill, and I could almost hear the sorrows coming from all directions, and I was saddened by their lost relatives. The sorrow is turned into a sky full of fog, and the fluttering and intertwining is full of rain. Is it a sad tear?

Perhaps influenced by this atmosphere, my mood is also heavy. So I went downstairs and planned to distract myself. I happened to meet an acquaintance: "Long time no see! Today's weather is really gloomy, or Ching Ming Festival. This reminds me of your grandfather, the old man did not survive that spring.

My heart is like a rotten old string, and it screams memories.

Loved ones, my love for my life. Even though it is human nature to know that old people are sick and dead, they still can't help but remember that there are several people in the world who will warm your cold hands with the warmest abdomen in the harsh winter. How many people will give you your favorite dish when you eat? How many people will make you happy when you are weeping?

Tears began to overflow, and I was so obsessed with memories that I walked back to the window and stunned my eyes and tears.

Suddenly, the hand has a feeling of fullness and roundness. I bowed my head and held a round orange with a sweet scent in my hand, but it was incompatible with the environment.

Sighed, I paid attention to the window: the cold wind hit the night, fluttering to the thin old tree, the cold rain hit the world. How can my mother come back in such a bad weather?

Time did not break up the sorrow, there was still a lot of drums in the distance, mixed with sobbing, and the people with sputum were sore. Is there only one person left in this world?

I clung to the orange-colored orange in my hand, trying to capture the warmth of the sun.

But still nothing to do, floating in the brain, vain, cutting, reorganization, and ultimately nothing left. It's like a lonely boat that has lost its direction, sailing in the storm, how much I hope to have a beacon light to guide me.

Night, who is your heart?

Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice: "Oh, it’s so late, I don’t know if my daughter has slept, and the car is broken today!"

It is the voice of mother!

I stood up in disbelief and looked out through the window: I saw a bright figure standing under the dim light. My mother was soaked, her clothes were stuck on her trembling body, and the usual neat hair was messy at this time. The white hair of the forehead was so vicissitudes, the rain ran down her forehead to the corner of her eye, at the chin. Integrate a small stream. She didn't care, she stood still and stupidly, standing like a giant, using her thin body to surround me in a cold world.

At that time, tears broke off again, and there was a spring in front of me, a sunny, blooming spring! The name of spring is called maternal love!

When I plunged into the damp and warm embrace, I began to understand that the lost need to be remembered, but what we need more is to be grateful now! cherish the moment! Love now! When we are in the rain, the one who keeps out the rain for us is the loved one who loves you forever!

Suddenly remembered a poem of Bing Xin: "Mother / the wind and rain in the sky / the bird hid in its nest / the wind and rain in my heart / I only hide in your arms /"

At that moment, my world spring blossoms.

The third day of the Fangqian New City Middle School in Binhu District, Wuxi, Jiangsu Province