Mothers are great, they cook for us without any regrets, worry about us, paving the way for us. We have lived with our mother for many years and there are certainly many things happening. Today I will tell you about my story with my mother.
From a young age, my relationship with my mother is not good, and I often quarrel. She never cares about my feelings, even if she is responsible for her own losses, she does not admit it. Whenever I want to tell her reason, she thinks that I am talking back, and then said to me: “You don’t talk to me so much, you It must be like this!” I am very disgusted with her. I always feel that she only cares about herself and she does not care about my inner thoughts.
I remember when I was very young, I went to my classmates’ home to go home on Sunday. When I entered the door, she looked at her face. I asked her questioningly with confusion. She was like a cold-blooded animal and said to me: How much less is the money I put in the box?” I am getting more and more embarrassed, her money is gone, ask me, is it that I stole her money? But I don’t even know that her money is in the box. How could it be me?
I shook my head very innocently, her eyebrows wrinkled, and then picked up the support rod next to her and called me. I was so scared that I ran back to the room and locked the door. When Dad came home at night, his mother immediately greeted him. The wicked first complained. After listening, Dad said, “The 10 pieces are urgently taken away this morning. I forgot to tell you.” Mom suddenly stunned, but on the surface I also said a “small thing”, and said to me, “Everyone has a mistake.” It is perfunctory, and there is no apology.
I was always dissatisfied with her, until that time, I made a mistake at school, my mother was called to my school by my class teacher. I was outside the office, watching my mother stand in front of the teacher like a primary school student, listening to her counting her own son, her face full of shame. I didn’t care, just thinking about how to escape the punishment after going back.
After returning home, my mother just buried her head and cooked for me. Without saying anything extra, I silently made a table of dishes I loved. When I was eating, my mother didn’t say anything, just squeezing food into my bowl. After dinner, she pulled me to the sofa. I thought that the “storm” was coming, but she didn’t yell at me, but she said the truth for me.
Later, my mother was afraid that I was a lonely child, and I helped me with my puppy and accompanied my childhood.
My childhood is more happy. To commemorate my mother, I left this painting.