Love our mother

It is also a spring month with spring blossoms and a warm and lovely season.
Spring in the south of the Yangtze River is a wet and unique landscape painting, as if it is a light ink mark dyed on white rice paper, a wet tile on the blue-black roof, a stone bridge mottled on the sparkling surface, and a fine rain silk slanting in the dripping water of the distant mountains.
Spring in the south of the Yangtze River is a rainy season. This may be the reason why “the watery south of the Yangtze River is a fragile glass”. That wet petals of the rain, that broke the river rain, that gently stick to every tiny particle of dust on the rain, you are so charming scenery. In the dense and thin rain, who is using such wonderful language to elaborate the little legends about spring?
Friends, does this continuous spring rain remind you of anything?
In this lovely May, the second Sunday of this spring May, is a day we should not forget – Mother’s Day.
Mother is the one who raises us and creates us. Who is it that accompanies us through the long night, besides the late night lights, there are mothers; who is it that shelters us from the storm, besides the umbrella, there are mothers holding the umbrella; who teaches us and tells us the truth, besides the thick books, there are mothers who eulogize us… Mother, what a kind name, she is not a holy goddess in myth, noble fairy, but has a kind and honest heart like them, with a magical power, that is, maternal love.
Mothers can be poor, so poor that they can only cook a bowl of oil and salt for their children; Mothers can be ordinary, so ordinary that they can only pick up their daughters every afternoon with refreshments; Mothers can be ignorant, ignorant only know how to think for their children, never think about themselves. There are tens of millions of mothers in the world, but the greatest similarity they have is to have love, with a full overflow of selfless maternal love. Mother’s love is the spring breeze, which blows out bright young flowers; whether you were withered or withered in the past; Mother’s love is sunshine, which shines into the deepest valley in our hearts, whether you were dead or dark and cold in the past, from then on spring blossoms and grass grow warblers; Mother’s love is spring rain, which moistens every part of our hearts. An inch of soil, whether you used to be cracked or barren, is full of spring and vitality. In short, maternal love is as warm as spring breeze, as warm as spring sunshine, as delicate as spring rain, but far better than them.
Thanksgiving mother, thanking mother love, is our sincere call from the heart. We can do a lot of things for our mothers because they are selfless and easy to satisfy. We can buy a bunch of carnations for our mother, though not as noble as famous flowers, but it can reflect her most gratifying smile; we can make her favorite snack, although the cooking skills are not good, but it can get her sweetest eyes; we can write a short poem for her, although not gorgeous. But it can bring mother’s happiest tears.
Mother’s Day is not just a holiday. It evokes the reward of grass for the earth, of flowers for rain and dew, of our mothers. So stop working and kiss your mother on the cheek. I don’t think everyone of us has ever seen God, but without exception we have God’s angel, love our mother.