这是个特困家庭。儿子刚上小学时,父亲去世了。娘儿俩相互搀扶着,用一堆黄土轻轻送走了父亲。母亲没改嫁,含辛茹苦地拉扯着儿子。那时村里还没通电,儿子每晚在油灯下书声朗朗、写写画画,母亲拿着针线,轻轻、细细地将母爱密密缝进儿子的衣衫。日复一日,年复一年,当一张张奖状覆盖了两面斑驳陆离的土墙时,儿子也像春天的翠竹,噌噌地往上长。望着高出自己半头的儿子,母亲眼角的皱纹长满了笑意。 This is a special hardship family. When my son was in elementary school, his father passed away. Niang two arm with each other, with a pile of loess gently away his father. Mother did not remarry, hard to pull his son. At that time, the village was not energized yet. His son read and scribbled every night under the oil lamp. His mother took the needlework and sewed the mother’s love into her son’s clothes gently and carefully. Day after day, year after year, when testimonials cover the walls of mottled walls, their sons are like spring bamboo and bass bass. Looked at the son above his half, his mother’s wrinkles covered with a smile.