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24.09.2019 10:24
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When I placed the last photo with my mother, we looked at each other and smiled. The photo, in the end how much love is recorded, how much good is deposited, and only shows the time in the moment when the blind man turned over. It is not easy to forget how many Mingyun, but once in the moment, Pick up a little bit. Even some of the past that has long since disappeared in the memory have been re-examined. Inadvertently, the death of China has fallen, and year after year has passed. The newborn baby is so beautiful in Bing Xin's poems, and when I opened the first moment of the album, I met a pair of black grapes. There is a feeling of deja vu, sparse hair, long eyelashes, the innocence read from the big eyes mokingusacigarettes.com, the curiosity seen from the tiny mouth. Is this me? I can't help but laugh. I have changed a lot since I grew up and 12 years ago. Years back, I am learning the language. The 3-year-old child, lying in the arms of her mother with a unique scent, pulled her mother's sleeve. "You were still very young at that time. You can find out your interest when you are happy. But when you see me, you climb up and ignore everything Newport Cigarettes Coupons. Let me hug with dirty hands. Look, you still Throw the bottle aside, but only this time, you are the safest." Mom caressed the photos over and over again, and seems to never see enough. I gently wake up the tenderness at the age of five Wholesale Cigarettes. I was holding the "microphone" rolled up with white paper. I stood on the table with a colorful hair clip on my head and said nothing to the relatives and friends of a room. When is this? I tried hard to remember. "This is a singing competition that you just attended kindergarten. You have to let everyone listen to you singing "Donald Duck". If you haven't taken a photo, I almost forgot." Mom looked at me on the photo. Look at the god of me again. It turned out that Mom, you always remember. Time continues to flow backwards, and many things in the painting no longer exist. The only remaining skirt is too short, anti-scorpion powder, expired, hat is too small, shoes, long lost in grandma's house, cherished backpack, only the mezzanine, light blue sleeves, faded, the rest More clothes and socks, the gadgets I used when I was a child, my grandmother and my mother gave me a sweater and a sole for half a year, and those dolls, a bottle of a bottle of baby products, have disappeared, Beijing, 5 years old, Macau, 6 years old, and Hainan, 7 years old, have changed. Time has taken everything away, but I will always take every photo of my mom and dad��s love for me. I have their companionship. I have counted it carefully. I have seen it from youth to middle age. The photos are not completely complete. In the past, I was able to conceive infinite reverie, but I could not change the mark of their wrinkles and time. Yes, it��s been 12 years. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year, twenty-four hours a day. Love for how many days have been poured, day after day, wrapped me tightly. I thought like this, tears also slipped in an instant, I solemnly wrote the following sentence: Any day in the world is not a holiday of mom and dad, but they are going to have a holiday every day. |
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