记得我在平原读书的时候,母亲从一百多里外的老家来看我。下车后,她不认识前往学校的路,一公里的路程竟走了一个多小时,汗水把她那件打着补丁的旧衫浸湿了。我要她擦一擦脸,毛巾从脸上过一过,雪白的毛巾便如墨染一般。一路上,她经受了多少风尘啊!我带母亲去饭店,问她想吃什么,她说,来碗白米饭最好。饭店快关门了,只剩下两碗冷饭。母亲说,冷饭也好。我想要两个热菜,店里人说,掌勺的师傅下班走了。母亲拎起桌上 I remember reading in the plain when my mother came to see me from more than a hundred miles away from home. After getting off, she did not know the way to school, and it took more than an hour for a kilometer to sweat away her patch of worn sweatshirt. I want her to rub a wipe the face, a towel over from the face, white towels like ink dyed general. Along the way, how much dust she has endured! I took my mother to the restaurant and asked her what she wanted to eat. She said it was best to serve rice bowl of white rice. Close the hotel, leaving only two bowls of cold rice. My mother said that cold rice Ye Hao. I want two hot dishes, the shop owner said that the master of the spoon went away from get off work. Mother picked up the table