Early walking in the morning and late staying in the sky star – think again of mother this is a handwritten note on March 31, 2013, perhaps because of reading du fu’s poems and thinking of mother, unconsciously describing some situations of that year and mother’s life without rhyme or rhyme.. The balcony in the shadow of spring scenery has bamboo arrogance. Birds are singing and the breeze is good, and they are no longer young.. There are few suitable elegance, elegance is in Yuan Ye; Qingqing river bank flows, without stopping. Early in the ancient river, sunset cast sunset blood. The figure looks at the famous schools, and the parents resist the ritual. A good teacher is far from a wall, and it is difficult to rule and avoid stubborn behavior. It is no longer a month of youth to dissuade a famous school. Father hates to withdraw from the disabled family, and tung flower shack tactic. Under the eaves of few mother grasses, autumn rain falls through the night: mud pots can be covered with umbrella flowers, without choking under the flowers; On the 3rd, there was no food and no salt to cook French fries. French fries outside the sound of dust, the green tree side high. One year old and one morning dusk, carrying a wry smile in the wind; Orphan qi muhui, ghosts and gods in the middle of the night. Alas, I can’t write down here. How can I express my thoughts about my mother’s miserable years and her participation in the candlelight bill of that year with Yu Di?? Today, a colleague of the unit pulled out and strolled around Xuchang County, saying it was a business, and then went to the antique market in Yang Fan to meet the so-called intellectuals.. Jade full of windows, tables and chairs are old, old words and paintings are old, flowers, insects and fish seem to be pulling back to the old days.. No, it’s a long time ago in this shabby house. But because of the living people walking up and down between them, the words fell apart, and life and death depended on each other, the old and the new coexisted.. As the winter has not yet left, the new willow has sprouted, and it is also like this ancient street, which has now taken on a new look.. And between this spring, has also contained the flavor of early summer. I shook hands with them to say goodbye and say hello to the time. After leaving, with the dead spirit of the old literati who had left the heat, they shook all over the streets, leaving only the essence under my notes.. And my heart, I don’t know why, thought of my mother who died young and the hard and happy years she spent with her.. The balcony in the shadow of spring scenery has bamboo arrogance. Birds are singing and the breeze is good, and they are no longer young.. My mother’s little name is’ Cui’. Mother, are you all right?