The beauty of maternal love

There is a kind of beauty, called maternal love. Mother loves water, and softly gives us the power to move forward; mother love is like light, warm, and takes away the tiredness of the day. Maternal love is great, beautiful and warm.

Maternal love, great enough to do anything for you at any time, anywhere, even if you pay for life; beautiful to any rhetoric, no words can describe her face; warm to any sense, no feeling can Get in touch with the warmth. She guards you like an angel.

In 2008, after the May 12th earthquake, there was such a thing, although it was very short, but it touched my heart: under the ruins, a mother holding her child who was only 1 year old, so tightly Holding, it seems that I will be eaten when I leave this embrace. The child smiled in her mother's arms, curious, and stroked her already stiff face. There was still a smile on the stiff face. A trace of a seemingly inconsistent smile, the hand on the skin is holding the phone tightly, with a picture of the child, maybe she is still thinking about the child at the last moment of her life. In that very old phone, people found an unread message with only a few words: the child, the mother loves you. I can't see you growing up in time.

It is true that maternal love is great and mother is great. Mother is the embodiment of maternal love, maternal love is the mother's crystallization!

They don't ask you to be a high-ranking official; don't ask you how much you can do; don't ask how great you are, even if you are ordinary; even if you are poor; even if you have nothing. You are their favorite baby. Whether you walk to the ends of the earth, her heart will follow the ends of the earth. Just like a chain, never separate.

Mother love is boundless, she is like the ocean; maternal love is endless, even if she dies, she keeps her heart; mother love is speechless, but memory is forever. Mother has paid too much for us, more than the world's water, more than the forest area of ​​trees. She loves us and we love her too.

There is a kind of love called maternal love; there is a man called mother; there is a kind of beauty that lasts forever.

The first day: Zhang Hongyang, the 7th class of Henan Hongli School