Sweet love

A thick aroma floated from a distance, sniffing carefully, it was the familiar aroma of pear water, speeding up the pace and running along the sweet smell. In the house, it is the figure of the mother who cooks pear water. I was immersed in a scent, as if I had returned to that late night...

"Don't eat, don't eat, I don't want to eat anything!" I yelled at my mother in a hoarse throat. The mother who was holding the food was anxious, and quickly said, "How can you get better if you don't eat or drink? This is your favorite dish, come..." Before my mother finished, I leaned back. On the pillow, I turned my head to one side irritably. Mother stood back and said nothing, licking the quilt and silently went out.

Just as I was drowsy, I heard a whisper of a "beep-beep" sound in the kitchen. The sound is getting louder and louder in the quiet room. At this point, I felt very uncomfortable. I had no sleep, and slowly walked to a window separated by two rooms to see what happened.

Through the window, I saw the pot of boiling water on the stove. Next to the stove was the mother who looked at the pot. He cautiously cut the pears, took a pile of powdery things, sprinkled them on the pear pieces, and then placed the pear pieces in a pot boiling water. She is going to cook pear water for me. I saw my mother quickly picked up the iron spoon and slowly stirred it up in the pot. Under the dark yellow light. I could even see the dense sweat on my mother's forehead, so that the two strands of silver-colored hair were soaked and stuck on her thin face. My mother's extremely high-profile glasses were heavily pressed against the bridge of the nose, and the lenses were covered with white mist. The lenses were followed by two deep concave eye sockets and a pair of tired but very kind eyes. Her face was very rough, and the yellow was like the light on the top of her head. I can see that my mother is tired. But she is still firmly guarding the pot, stirring the pear water with a spoon, and picking up the pear water from time to time, then sprinkling it, and often using chopsticks to poke a pear. The repetitive movements are so skillful, slow, and so light.

In a short while, maybe the heat is coming, my mother picks up a small spoonful of water and sends it to the mouth, rubbing it with her mouth. After hesitating for a moment, she frowned, helped the glasses, and her mouth twitched slightly, as if she was licking something, and then re-hyped with a large spoon. Still the same light and slow. Skilled... I don’t know how long it took, and finally I saw a smile on my mother’s face, and I picked up the pear. The pear water that popped out was hot, the pear crystal was clear, and a few small pears were so delicate, and I was appetizing. My mother brought the pears in, smiled at me, and handed me the hot pears to me with expectation. "Mom specially cooked the pears and water, and put some throat Chuanbei, drink it hot!" I took the bowl obediently and drank slowly. The bowl of pear water is exceptionally sweet, the pear pieces are soft, slippery, swallowed, and my throat is much more comfortable immediately. Looking at the mother who laughed and closed her mouth, my heart felt warm.

After a while, I tried to cook pear water myself, but I couldn't help but have the sweetness of the bowl of pear water.

Until I once again drunk my mother's pear water, I realized that my mother's pear water actually added one thing, that is, a sweet love.

First day: Bai Xiaoyi