Growing up and moving again and again will always come to mind.

I remember that time. ...

I was only in grade three at that time. The last class in the afternoon, thunder and lightning, pouring rain. In an instant, it was dark. And the thunder continues to roar. At this time, a flash of lightning flashed gently in the air, and the lines spent by the brush seemed to light up half the sky. Unconsciously, the bell rang. After school, the rain is getting bigger and bigger, like a sieve. Thunderstorm, and I, standing at the school gate, waiting to pick up my father.

At the school gate, a wet figure appeared, and that was dad. It turned out that he forgot to bring his umbrella and got caught in the rain. He gasped and said, "Come on! Go! " He pulled down his coat and put it on me, on my head. He took me home. ...

In the heavy rain, this scene appeared again: a drop of rain hit my father's shirt and made a slight click, which became a nocturne. Rain fell on his father's face again, making his glasses look like a small window full of raindrops. Through that window, I saw a burning heart.

Walking in the torrential rain, I seem to feel the warm temperature of my father's love. Just as an eagle loves its children, it spreads its strong wings to protect its young eagle; Just like the first bright sunshine in spring, it not only warms the earth, but also warms the grass. ...

I walked in the rain, bathed in lovely sunshine ... gradually, the rain stopped and my father's shirt was soaked. The sun appeared in the sky again, illuminating everything on the earth. After the rain, a beam of sunshine shone into the window ... Dad's face smiled again.

If a mother's love is a ray of spring, and a child is a flower, then I will say that a father's love is a green leaf holding a red flower and caring for the child in obscurity. Children thrive in the bath of love.

I believe that the silent love of every parent will touch more people.

Maternal love? touch control

Ordinary and great maternal love often touches me.

I remember that every birthday is a day I've been looking forward to for months, and that one was no exception. Out of the busyness of adults, they forgot this day. On the morning of my birthday, I specifically asked my mother, "Do you remember what day it is today?" My mother's answer was beyond my expectation. She said, "I don't know." Her suspicion is that my heart has turned sour. I'm about to cry. "Have you forgotten my birthday?" My desire turned into disappointment, and I fell deeply into that heart …

However, I couldn't see my mother all afternoon. Where is she going? Later, my father told me that she had gone shopping.

However, half an hour, an hour ... time is passing, and my mother hasn't come back for a long time. I'm starting to worry. At this time, it began to rain. It was dark at once. I am more worried. I wonder if my mother has an umbrella. What should I do if I get caught in the rain? It's raining harder, and there are several flashes of lightning and roaring thunder from time to time. The dark clouds in the sky covered the smile of the sun and pressed it to the heart.

In my anxiety, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and my wet mother stood outside. "Mom, where have you been?" My mother took a breath, wiped a sweat, sat down, rested for a while, and then said to me, "Nothing, I just bought you a birthday cake and a present. Hey, this is all my fault. Look at this memory. I forgot your birthday. Fortunately, I bought you a birthday cake. " Say, take out a beautiful cake from the bag. "Just bought it, it's still fresh ..." She took out a watch. "Didn't you say you liked it last time? Run a few blocks, and finally found ... "I didn't listen, also don't want to listen to. I'm afraid I will cry. At this time, I thought to myself: Mom, as long as you come back, I don't want any cake watches. I just want to spend my birthday with you.

When singing birthday songs, my mother's face is so kind by candlelight. The wrinkles on her face are the traces left by time, and the white hair on her temples is the witness of sweat. I don't know why, it reminds me of many past events: when I was a child, my mother helped me cover the quilt; When eating, my mother doesn't eat it herself, leaving all the delicious food to me; When I was sick, my mother took care of me and didn't rest for a few days ... they appeared in front of me like movies. Mom, I am so moved to see the cake in front of me! I am even more moved to see your smile! Mom, it's you. You brought the cake back by yourself in the rain. Along the way, you may have wrestled, you may have caught a cold, and how many times you sneezed in the rain … In meditation, my mother handed me a piece of cake. She knows that I don't like cream, so she deliberately divided more cakes, less cream and more fruits I like. "Son, eat the cake quickly!" At this moment, I cried, shining tears poured out and dripped into my heart. "How can you cry ..." I threw myself into my mother's arms. "Mom, I was wrong. I shouldn't have done that in the morning. I really love you! ! "

I'm not sad, but moved. Some people may say that this is a mother's disobedience to her children. Even if this is a kind of disobedience, because it is love, it contains a kind of maternal love power-touching.

After that, I liked that and learned a lot. Because I am moved, I am sensible and understand my mother's sweat and silent love.