There is a feeling called heartache

Chapter 1 The Love That Affects a Lifetime (Prologue)

Family love is the most holy emotion in the world, even though sometimes it is full of tears and blood... There is a friend who is often unkempt and with a thick mustache, he always gives people the feeling of a rough man.That day, a group of friends got together and talked about their mothers while chatting. This big man from the Northwest became delicate and gentle.He narrated some little things about his mother's love for him during her lifetime, and the listeners were all moved by it—it was late at night, and the plum rain for two whole days was still pattering on the glass windows outside the building, saying "baba da "click" sound, my mother gently walked out of her small room from the depths of my memory, walked to the shoe rack at the door, and bent down... With the continuous promotion of the position, not only the work at hand has increased, but also the entertainment. There are too many, and I will no longer have a pattern when I go home.My wife gradually got used to my busyness, and every time she came home too late, she complained a few words and ignored me.When I came home late at night, I saw my mother at the door of her room, obviously waiting for me.I blamed her a little: "Mother, don't worry about me, I'm fine, you are so old, you should rest more." My mother stammered: "Mother knows, mother is worried about you..."

Since then, I have never seen my mother waiting at the door of the room.

My mother has only me as an only child. Because my father died early, after I got married, my mother lived with me and my wife.My mother, who has not yet graduated from elementary school, always cares about me and loves me, but gives me the freedom to fly to the greatest extent.

On this day, I arrived home late at night, and there was a crisp bell ringing from the house—it was the sound of the old-fashioned wall clock on the living room wall chiming the time.He looked up at his watch, it was 12 o'clock. "They should all be asleep." I thought, opened and closed the door lightly, changed my shoes and entered the room... When I was having breakfast the next day, my mother suddenly said to me: "Why did you come back so late last night? It was 12 o'clock Right? This is not good..." I was suddenly stunned, not knowing that my mother would be so clear.While picking up vegetables in my mother's bowl, I said perfunctorily: "Mom, I understand."

After that, every time I went back late, my mother could always tell me exactly when I came home the next day, but she didn't say anything more.I know—my mother is reminding me not to come home too late, to remind me not to be too careless about home.And the question in my heart is getting bigger and bigger: every time I come home late, how can my mother know?
When she was 43 years old, her mother lost her eyesight due to an accident, and she has been living in a world without light ever since.

That night, I returned home around 12 o'clock.Because I drank too much alcohol, I didn't go back to the room directly to sleep, but quietly went to the balcony, wanting to blow some air and wake up.After standing for a while, the clock chiming the time came from the hall, 12 times, clear and rhythmic, and I started to walk back to the room gently.

As soon as I arrived at the door, I was stunned. Under the moonlight, my mother was bending over in front of the shoe rack, groping for pairs of shoes on the shoe rack—she picked up a pair and smelled it in front of her nose, then put it back, and picked it up again. A pair of... didn't put the shoes away until she smelled mine, straightened up, and turned back to her room.

It turned out that my mother was waiting for my return every day. In order not to affect my wife and me, she always judged whether I came home by whether my shoes were on the shoe rack, and always counted the bells of the wall clock to determine the time.And the way she judged my shoes turned out to be by smelling them.Tears slipped out of my eyes quietly.I have become accustomed to using busy career as an excuse to neglect my concern for my mother, but my mother still cares about me as before. Can the hearts of 1 sons equal the heart of one mother?

Since then, I tried my best to refuse unnecessary entertainment, and always went home as early as possible because I knew that there was a mother at home who was concerned about me.

Mother died of illness at the age of 63.After she died, I still maintained the habit of going home early.I always feel that the clear moonlight is the gaze left by my mother, staring at me every night.

In the middle of the night again, the plum rain that had been falling for two whole days was still pattering on the glass window outside the building, making a "baba da da" sound, my mother walked out of her small room gently from the depths of my memory, walked Going to the shoe rack at the door of the room, I bent down... I knew that my mother was checking the shoes to see if I was home.

(End of this chapter)