This is the name of one of my novellas, which was later adapted into a TV series.There is always a gap between the themes shown in TV dramas and novels.Here I have no intention of judging the themes expressed by the two literary styles, which is better. After all, literary styles are different, and differences in thinking are also normal. Each of us has had a mother. When we mention mother, we will think of warmth.When the mother is there, there is a home that shelters from the wind and rain, and the home is always warm.With a cup of tea and soft care, we saw the kind face of our mother, full of warmth and love without complaint or regret.When I went out, my mother's constant exhortations lingered in my ears. It sounded a little nagging, but when I thought about it, it was warm.

The mother is a tree, and the children are the branches on the tree, and the roots are deep to be able to flourish.The mother carried the wind, frost, snow and rain alone, and gave her children bit by bit the puree of life.The branches and leaves are luxuriant, but the trunk has become old.Time is like a moth, biting the mother's life, but the mother still uses part of her healthy life to support the life of her children. When I was a child, crossing the road by dragging my mother's sleeves felt solid.After growing up, in the eyes of her children, mothers become weaker day by day, and the track of life is already rusted and mottled.The children's wings grow hard, and they just want to fly outside, to experience the wind and rain, and to see the world, while the mother is still the tree, old and withered, but the children who fly far away, tired and exhausted, will still come back and land on the ground. On the old tree of my mother, I sorted out my mood, relived my mother's nagging, gathered up enough strength, and raised my arms to break through again.The mother's expectant eyes became longer and longer as the children flew away.

The mother, who had run out of oil and lamps, tried her last sliver of strength to find her familiar and unfamiliar children with her eyes, all of which were meat from her body. She didn't want to and couldn't bear to let go of them, even if she was dying.As a mother, she no longer lives for herself, she knows that she is the heaven of her children.The sky is falling, and the home is gone. With the last effort, the mother continues to worry about her children.Finally, the old tree fell down, leaving only the last sigh. The mother left, and the sons and daughters became motherless children.When the mother is alive, the children, no matter how old they are, are always children in front of the mother.Now, a child who has lost his mother has to grow himself into a tree, just like a mother.

Life is still going on, and life has to be passed on, so there are generations of mothers who have been praised by people. Mother, it's good to be alive!With a mother, we will always be happy children. Shizhong Mountain March 2005 in Beijing