Know how to be grateful

I remember when I was a child, I always like to procrastinate and sleep in the dark. An orange-rendered street lamp, like a soldier, is waiting for me. In the early morning, before we got up, my mother was standing in front of me with great vitality. From time to time, a sad figure flashed in my mind.
Another night, at the urging of my mother, I reluctantly got into the cot, draped a quilt in the darkness and muttered a few words. When I was sleepy, I got up again. I went into the toilet confusedly. Suddenly, the muffled sound of “beep” came into my ear. I looked up sharply and saw her at a glance. The tiredness of red eyes was hard to hide, and the dexterous hands were dancing fast on the keyboard of the computer. Occasionally, a beautiful strand of hair slipped to her face, which was dim because she stayed up late. Mother held her back and yawned lazily. I stopped and looked at it with a trace of heartache and regret. I watched in silence, too nervous to venture out, my chest fluttering with excitement because of my discovery. “Bingru, you……”
For twelve years, a little bit, a drop, are deeply engraved in my mind, that every move, full of care and concern. In the face of difficulties and setbacks, those warm hands gently cling to my shoulders and tightly cling to my heart.
From swaddling to learning to speak, to falling down and walking, to growing up. Have you forgotten the first nursery rhyme, the first sentence and the first word we learned in the moonlight? How many times have we been filled with affection and tenderness? My father corrected and recited them. When we were successful, joy filled our cheeks and hearts. Sometimes we didn’t even look up to see our parents’tired look. When we were young, we wondered how many times we had to ask our mother, “Where do I come from?” It was the sweat and tears from our mother and father that brought me into the world and pulled me out of my stubbornness. In this troubled society, when money is more important than everything, only parents will devote all their money to their children; when innocent and beautiful happiness goes to waste, only parents are so sincere to their children. When I go to primary school, I fall in love with writing and enjoy playing endless fantasies in the scene of no one. That silky feeling, I am free, carefree and happy. On a recent evening, I was struggling to write a book, but I didn’t know that there was a cup of hot milk beside me. Now I understand that father and mother, in our lives, are treasured and can’t be found again.
You know, parents’hearts are always hard and happy. They left us a vast ocean, let us roam, they pay no return.
Someone asked: Why are we more impatient with people who are more close to us? That’s because our parents spoil us and love us, but we want to take it for granted, even complain about their verbosity. Who is it that gets up early and prepares breakfast while we are still sleeping? Who is it that washes our clothes in the weak moonlight when we are asleep?
At this moment, I learned that Thanksgiving is very simple. The good night before going to bed, the thank you when delivering milk, the smiling face when looking at parents, and a pair of clean slippers… even if it looks so insignificant! As long as we have a sincere heart, say a thoughtful word and do a little bit. Small things.
So, with our active and boiling heart, comfort the old look gently!
“Falling red is not a merciless thing, but a spring mud to protect flowers” is the gratitude of the leaves to the roots.
“Whoever says a little grass will get three spring sunshine” is the son’s gratitude to his mother.
Thanksgiving, let life be full of sunshine, let the world be full of warmth…