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A Mother's Love |
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On Mother's Day, someone posted a message online that touched my heart. The post
read: "My mother is a beautiful woman. Time, please don't hurt her." - A Message
to Time.
When I saw this post, I couldn't help but cry. I was moved by the innocence and
naivety of these words. Indeed, as the footsteps of time approach us, they also
cruelly draw closer to our beloved mothers.
From the moment we are born, our mothers are destined to learn how to be
virtuous wives and loving mothers, placing us at the center of their world. For
our sake, mothers invest their love and effort.
As we learn to walk and take hesitant steps towards our mothers with smiles on
our faces, little do we realize that the footsteps of time are also drawing near
to them, just like us.
When we start going to school, our mothers are always there, offering guidance
and reminders. And one day, we will realize that the voice behind us is growing
older with each passing day, and the footsteps behind us are becoming slower,
struggling to keep up with our swift pace. The distance between us and our
mothers grows wider, while time inches closer to them.
When we have fully grown into adults, every time we enter the house, we see an
aged face with wrinkled skin and gray hair, a tired and feeble figure—that is
our mother. Time has dyed her black hair into white, leaving wrinkles on her
once smooth and beautiful face, engraved by our rebelliousness during our youth.
Time has robbed her of her youth, and its footsteps are now just a step away
from our mothers.
Until one day, time's footsteps reach our mothers completely. It is then that we
will vividly remember the love our mothers have shown us, and our eyes will be
filled with attachment and reluctance to let go.
I, too, have a mother, and she is a beautiful woman. I implore time not to steal
her beauty, and I plead for the footsteps of time to tread slowly, allowing me
to cherish and care for my beautiful mother. |
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