Mother and Flower Prose My cactus mother

The cactus that my mother has raised for many years suddenly blooms. The color is as bright as the moon, and I suddenly feel that I can become the embodiment of my mother's life-the kind of extraordinary and refined that has been honed and seen through the world, and is so calm and fearless. ...

Mom's life, in her own words, is enough to write a novel with wonderful content. When she was growing up, she was full of uncertain legends.

83 years ago, in a small town in the south, a baby girl was added to a big family. Because the eldest son grew up to be a grandson, although he was a granddaughter, he was also happy to have a big feast with guests and friends. Born in such a family, my daughter is born rich, well-fed, spoiled and willful, and despises life in a honeypot.

Years of carefree peace soon passed. When the girl was about ten years old, her mother gave her another sister. It seems that the days are still days, but a storm is already brewing. First, a lot of business at home was not going well, and then, because I gave birth to two daughters in succession, I naturally married a second wife. It is only natural for the master to spoil his concubine. The problem is that the second wife successfully challenged the two young ladies with arrogance and ignorance, and won a great victory.

Until one day, the first wife made a mistake when she was happily holding chopsticks-she took a pair less, and the second wife cried, "It's obviously me alone!" " The master said majestically, "I will break your leg tomorrow!" " "

So overnight, the first lady fled with the first lady, leaving the second lady over one year old. NianLia didn't even dare to go back to her mother's house, so she had to flee far away to find a washerwoman to do chores, and the first lady became the maid of honor of other ladies.

The girl who changed from a young lady to a bridesmaid is my mother. It didn't take long to calm down temporarily, and I don't know why grandma took her mother and said to her master, "We're home." Mother and daughter walked and walked for a long time, but they didn't know where to go. Mother couldn't walk, tired and hungry, so she said to her grandmother, "Mom, I'm hungry!" " Grandma cried and said, "son, we won't go home. We won't have a home after we come out." ... "Mom doesn't know what all this is about, but she is afraid. Finally, their orphans and widows joined the guerrillas and were assigned to different teams. Since then, they have been separated for more than 30 years. In that year, their mother was still under 13 years old.

13-year-old mother started her life alone, and a small figure shuttled through the war. A child who once lived a pampered life has realized the pain of life even more. There are too many complicated feelings buried in her little heart-resentment against her family, missing her mother and sister, where you will go, the comrades who surround her every day, and the fear of the unknown. Complex emotions wrapped around her layer by layer, but on the surface it became brave, silent and stubborn.

Once, my mother was assigned to the battlefield to rescue the wounded, and a newly assigned 14 boy took the initiative to replace her, because that boy was one year older than her and had the strength, so it was more convenient to carry the wounded. But not long after, the 14-year-old boy was carried back, and his head was shot through ... At that moment, his mother turned the long-accumulated sadness and resentment into tears. How she wished that it was herself lying there at that moment, which was also a relief. ...

Once my mother had a chance to sneak back to her hometown to find out about her sister, but she learned from other people in the town that her sister died of chickenpox the year after their mother and daughter left, which became another knot in her heart-grandma gave up her sister to save her, and they wanted to take her! Even if it's a dead end, three people will die together ... My mother has a deep hatred for her mother, and she never wants to see her mother again. She is completely orphaned in spirit. ...

After liberation, I met my father who was also transferred when I was pulling out the airport construction funds. Later, my father returned to the northeast, and my mother was transferred to the northeast after many twists and turns. In the meantime, I bought a plane ticket and arranged for my mother to visit her mother. My mother refused to go, tore up the ticket and chose never to see it again.

A southern girl came to the cold north. She doesn't know to cover the pot when boiling water. She can't make winter cotton-padded jacket and trousers, and she can't even understand each other's language. Unlike the army, a marriage with four eyes facing each other has to start from scratch. Love can change a person, especially after a mother becomes a mother, she pours all her feelings for her poor sister into her children, and she can't bear to let them suffer a little, and she will never be willing to beat and scold. Every time I get paid, I buy books for my children and send them to receive a good education. Even in that miserable decade, when everyone was in danger, her father was labeled as a traitor and her mother was designated as a latent spy, and she never bowed her head. ...

My mother and her mother finally met after 32 years. I know they look embarrassed and indifferent, but they all secretly cry where no one is around. An old lady in the dragon bell speaks Hakka intermittently, saying that she is burning incense and telling fortune to pray that her daughter is still alive, and her 30-year-old daughter can't understand her hometown. They all deliberately hide their inner pain and estrangement, and secretly speculate on each other's pain with evasive eyes. ...

My memory is sweet and warm. When I was six or seven years old, my mother used a cupboard to pack delicious food for me. At that time, the delicious food was apple bread, twisted sesame seed cake and so on. Until decades later, the empty cupboards still smelled of apples. I remember in the summer evening, my mother fed the chickens, ducks, geese, dogs and cats at home and spent a long time working in the vegetable garden. I remember there was only one way between primary school and home. The road is dirt and the playground is black. Sweep snow in winter and weed in summer. Every rainy season covered in mud, my mother would carry me to the door of the class behind my back. In winter, after school, I will go directly to my mother's hospital. She would carry me to the brick stove to heat my little feet and eat the bread twist she baked for me. I remember when I opened my eyes in the winter morning, my mother must be cooking in the kitchen. I called my mother in my room, and she would come in at once and pass me the hot cotton-padded jacket and trousers on the radiator. ...

Now my mother is 83 years old. She has seen so many parting between life and death and experienced so many ups and downs, but she is getting stronger and stronger. Like a cactus rooted in the desert, it grows proudly. In her old age, life is more transparent, writing, reading newspapers, listening to opera, embroidery and cross-stitch. I think her cactus bloomed the most wonderful flower in my life in the twilight. ...