gradually

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(Editor: sammy)
I think, from my happy childhood ended when it?

-year-old past, my family still live in, work in a factory his father, light and dark of the three shifts, Although busy tired, but he never lose, when I want to snack, he like to say,dre beats, boy, good listener, I have money, you want to buy what to buy. In fact, when his mother did not work, and often give people at home and do odd jobs or those who can not earn much money in the manual labor. Despite their difficulties, but the house was full of warmth, trying to earn his father, the mother was bright and clean around the house tidy, easy life flies booming.

-year-old after his father fell in love with smoking and drinking, often drunk. At first, when drunk, just lying in bed at home, and later because I do not know what drunk to cry and shout, threw things around and finally upgraded to play the mother. The dead of night, his quarrels and maternal depression often cry tears wet my lapel. Awoke the next morning, the mother who often see the scars and swelling like a peach like eyes.

It was an autumn afternoon, when I go home dawdled when dark days have been great, so I am surprised that the home is not even a little dark light. I went inside and saw that his mother was gone, that is, since the beginning of a night, the mother to the wind in my life disappeared.

father was drunk more often, he was drunk, but also cursed his mother in addition to crying, full of resentment from his curse, I vaguely knew his mother betrayed him. I remember once he was drunk, a blood-red eyes staring at me that you have to remember that your mother is a slut, and she ran with people, do not you, do not the house!

I became a mother's harp is not a day, came home from school had its own cooking and washing, without the mother's love and care, I not only want to manage their lives, have to take care of his father, such a day I had ten years, decades of hard days I come to this day by day, until then I doubt I was not accustomed to living without a mother. May be the year when I received the admission notice when the University, I once again saw his mother.

I did not think his mother would be so much older, her thin, buoyant like a gust of wind can be blown down like, little face lined with wrinkles, can not find the shadow of the past full. She then looked at me humble so atrophy did not even dare to touch my hand, not to speak, her tears to flow down.

I thought she would tell me, did not think she said: Son, you are still very small, some things you still do not know better! Say, this is something we adults have in the past so many years, not to mention the mother.

she knew my father had no money for my school, so she was bundled out of the cloth in a bank card, pushed me and said: This is my money you ready for school You should learn from the future to amount to anything.

husband abandoned child is a sin? I do not want your money, you never even think to get my forgiveness. Finished, I ran out of the teahouse. I swear I did not want her money,beats by dre, I want to own for their own school, I did not recognize she was my mother, I hated her when I most need a mother abandoned me.

the whole summer, I work in a brick factory, and I vowed to himself to earn a fee. I do not see her, that she came to see me I can not see, on several occasions, I found her standing on the square in front of family around, but I always pretended not to know her, running across from her bike , it seems strange strangers, I still see her alone and helpless figure expression. She lost her hair white, her waist and down-a lot of ... ... Every time I see her, my heart will be more of a layer of ice, moving about,beats by dre, all strike a raw so.

from my first day of school draws near, they suddenly disappeared by her presence. Each time through the square in front, I have to look around to find,tods, but she did like a dozen years ago, quietly disappeared.

my tuition is not enough, the father or the endless wine drunk in his village, as if all his son does not matter to him. Just the night before school starts, has been no dealings with my family of di-tert-prime suddenly came home, he brought me twenty thousand dollars, he said nothing, only said that he for me twenty thousand dollars Office of student loans, to the school after going to learn in the future have the ability to also on the loan.

into the university gate, my heart flutter in learning, using all his spare time working to earn money, gradually, calm down. In the past I may want to forget those less fortunate, when suddenly uncle received a phone call in his phone in a low voice said to me: you have to come back a trip home out of these things! I heard the phrase If the first reaction is to be the father was hurt. Di said can not, he would not give reasons, just say you come back to know. I refused to go home, be sure to tell him what it is, finally, he hesitated to say is your mother. ,Casque beats, if you do not come back this time, you will regret it in future life!

to di last few words, I took the fastest train ran home. The car, already waiting at the station received uncle took me to the hospital. In the ward, I saw a dying mother. Mother has been unable to speak, she just looked at me and tears, is the uncle told me off the whole story. It turned out that the father be the mother I am sorry, that year, uncle to the distant relatives of Xinjiang to defect to find work to do, home Ershen one juggle at home, parents inevitably have to help her, and later, father and two aunt had an affair, the mother knows, the once pleading and discouraged in every possible way, persevering father is bent on not repent, but also the mother being tortured, and finally, the mother was unable to endure the humiliation that so angrily away from home. After leaving the mother, has been out wandering, she did not culture, only by doing some odd jobs to keep food and drink, and later, physical collapse, in his fifties was found had lung cancer, she was not willing to spend money on medical treatment, the accumulation of money out of the rest of my life I read, and at that time I do not recognize her, this expert on the basis of her illness deepened the pain.

after finishing his mother's funeral I returned to school,Polo Ralph Lauren pas cher, I know, since then I really have no mother, and that was my mother's people called, she did not enjoy the favor of my little family and, on the contrary I hate her but in the hearts of more than ten years, let alone her journey in life to bring her son did not enjoy a little warm, I regret my rash ignorance, but also sad for her experience, poor woman, poor mother.


TAG Tags: mother, father, the great regret woman


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The driver clambered into his seat, clicked his tongue, and we went downhill. The brake squeaked horribly from time to time. At the foot he eased off the noisy mechanism and said, turning half round on his box--
"We shall see some more of them by-and-by."
"More idiots? How many of them are there, then?" I asked.
"There's four of them--children of a farmer near Ploumar here. . . . The parents are dead now," he added, after a while. "The grandmother lives on the farm. In the daytime they knock about on this road, and they come home at dusk along with the cattle. . . . It's a good farm."
We saw the other two: a boy and a girl, as the driver said. They were dressed exactly alike, in shapeless garments with petticoat-like skirts. The imperfect thing that lived within them moved those beings to howl at us from the top of the bank, where they sprawled amongst the tough stalks of furze. Their cropped black heads stuck out from the bright yellow wall of countless small blossoms. The faces were purple with the strain of yelling; the voices sounded blank and cracked like a mechanical imitation of old people's voices; and suddenly ceased when we turned into a lane.
I saw them many times in my wandering about the country. They lived on that road, drifting along its length here and there, according to the inexplicable impulses of their monstrous darkness. They were an offence to the sunshine, a reproach to empty heaven, a blight on the concentrated and purposeful vigour of the wild landscape. In time the story of their parents shaped itself before me out of the listless answers to my questions, out of the indifferent words heard in wayside inns or on the very road those idiots haunted. Some of it was told by an emaciated and sceptical old fellow with a tremendous whip, while we trudged together over the sands by the side of a two-wheeled cart loaded with dripping seaweed. Then at other times other people confirmed and completed the story: till it stood at last before me, a tale formidable and simple, as they always are, those disclosures of obscure trials endured by ignorant hearts.