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Mother's legs were the most warm - thanks parents - family Prose network - family articles, family stories, family poems, family truth
Memory of the South living in harmony with the winter should be warm sun, green leaves swept waves, swallows around the cloud. Last year, it can be exceptionally cold winter, when the aircraft when hovering over the home, through the dazzling window, past the mountains that cover the mountains shade Ridge,abercrombie and fitch, Gully sill, the eye is a vast expanse of white, as if the Township is waves into a huge waterfall, fly spray is a trickle that the ups and downs of the slope. Tried to find a home in the mind's shadow, and that blows is white like waving a giant piece of cloth, winding, float along, and how to can not find the way home. Really long time did not return home, and which roads childhood waft the breath of the path; that possession of laughter full of young brook; that dream of floating down the Yi Keke numerous fruit trees, all seem to disappear quietly from the mind. Stirring deep spiritual contemplation. Since the school away from home, school,doudoune moncler, work, fall in the side not only time, casual in the memory of the home to fall out. That brought up my plants, mountain water; that accompanied me through the seasons of the skin of the dog play with it all day holding my mountains of cattle; those in the early morning sun rays and lingering afterglow of the birds in the ears; there are those childhood playing partners; all are like a black hole sunk into the memory, the cycle is the time to change the memory, or the busy city life changed mind? Mind like a silk of the silkworm,giubbotti moncler, drawing the enclosure around the sky into the memory. Floating in front of the mother figure, Cang injury years engraved in the forehead, not clear whether the wrinkles on his forehead added to the head of white hair do not know whether it is also the same as last time to see if the winter Cream? I have not seen the mother is, and always miss the days of Dodge busy with work, but forgotten is the most true love. Cold wind like countless needle, pitting child with skin, snow-capped mountain village like a sleeping baby, the car stopped at the entrance to the village slowly through the window I saw the mother's gaunt figure standing in the snow, a curl of white steam floating in the mouth, tears of excitement and sour to start coming out the side. Gently up to my mother's side, could not bear to see my mother's face, like a shy child, drunkenly shouted mother, the mother took the suitcase from my hand, took her hand, walking toward home with the silence go. Mother, a person living in the home garden wooden houses,abercrombie & fitch, which is a unique housing structure of the south, to inspect all made of wood, wood and wood with a connection between the , in the village, this house is usually built on mountains, the terrain of the bump will not affect the construction of housing. Many of these houses are two stories, there are three, and four are on very much. Build the lower house are fed, and generally more complex, pigs, cattle, horses, sheep, chickens, geese, there is work to put some tools in rural areas. Top, is a family dinner,moncler quincy pas cher, the night. Usually on the second floor, all in a few square meters balcony, empty, spring flowering trees can be read here, Block,doudoune moncler pas cher, Block here left to cool in summer, autumn rain, the rain here to see the seat, then the winter, Block the sun here. If that what happened at home, standing here, let roar, the entire village have heard to this village in the big and small are left here, or sweet or the misery of the blot. Village night, early on he fell asleep. Southern winter, the day is warm, but a slight chill in the night. Last winter was exceptionally cold, biting wind as the wild beasts, through the wooden wall into the room effortlessly, without any heating tools, like an open house of ice, like to escape the cold Heaven group of children, living skin drilled straight. Mother braved the heat from the steam pot fetched a basin of water, I washed my feet, watching his elderly mother, to and fro busy, all the heart like a thorn in the fall, no words to express the pain . I want to do something, but nothing to prevent mother to do, if I Chengle the house guests, and that the walls in order to become familiar with a stranger, and even put a towel I do not know the location, and barely hanging on to seat in the house, like any mother care to take care of young children have grown up, like me. After washing feet mother, standing beside me, look at me and see if she goes too wide bed, as if what is wrong, and gently said to me,abercrombie et fitch, The sour tears surging in the Orbital, my mother's feet lie, to express the mother has legs tightly in his arms, then his mother to fear that I am chilled, put all her clothes are covered in my legs, back and re-pressure the pressure, would the well, would the attachment,moncler quincy, as is bringing a newborn baby. Acacia moon to send affectionate, but how to get through the mother's cell phone, I know, the mother returned to the chamber, back to that remote mountain village, where her dream Acacia. Is a Mid-Autumn moon night, quietly in the window seat, watching with bright room, watching the soft, comfortable bed, the bed was nice to see the beautiful large perianth, the heart is like a bird was flying, into the distance, flew to that mountain village cottage, flew it a warm bed. At this point the mother, is on that side balcony seat, looks into the distance under the sky, the face of missing pet, or lying in bed, reliving her son's body was it? Many years, pity I do not know when they grow up, or adult shyness, each met with the mother, are not a good look at the mother, not to hug his mother a, let alone sleep with my mother. Mother, this year's Spring Festival, I want to hug you properly, like you were a kid, like me in his arms; mother, I want to hold you tight, a few few gray hairs on your head, as you hold me kiss my cheek; mother, I hold you legs sweet sleep, as you hold me in the middle of the night to sing a ballad; mother is the son of your legs are always the most warm, no matter where we go son, the mother will feel the warmth of touch.相关的主题文章：


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