母亲四十一岁了。我一直想要给母亲过一个浪漫的生日。那个四月,当桃儿挂满枝头,我这个小小心愿也有了着落。那是个周五,刚一放学,拿着悄悄攒下的一百元钱,我快步走在熙熙攘攘的街头。身边川流不息的车,不知道它们从哪儿来,又会开到哪儿去,像极了母亲的日子,从来没有停歇过。属于母亲的年华不多了,我希望能多留给母亲一些美好的回忆。还是那一家开在商业街的蛋糕店,虽然已经重新装修过,但还是有种从前的韵味,暖暖的。透过玻璃窗,柜台里的每一个小蛋糕都代 Mother is 41 years old. I always wanted to have a romantic birthday for my mother. That April, when the peaches were covered with branches, my little wish had been settled. It was a Friday, just after school, holding a hundred dollars quietly saved, I walked slowly in the bustling streets. Endless stream of cars around, do not know where they come from, they will open where, like the mother’s day, never stopped. Belongs to the mother’s little old age, I hope to give my mother some good memories. Or that one opened in the commercial street cake shop, although it has been re-decorated, but still a kind of former flavor, warm. Through the glass window, the counter in every small cake generation