Please help me think of a few examples of family relationships

Moisturizing things silently.

The wind, silent, blew the earth green; Love, without words, nourishes the heart.

I used to think that my father was an emotionally dull person.

When I was a kid, my mother accompanied me when I flew kites, and my father picked up kites.

Learning to ride a bicycle, it was my mother who picked me up when I fell, and it was my father who stood by and shouted for me to get up and continue.

When I was a child, it was my father who beat me and my mother who drugged me.

At the birthday party, it was my mother who blew out the candles with me. It was my father who blew up the balloons for me.

My finger was infected, and it was my mother who was holding me tremblingly when I went to the hospital to get my bad nails removed and repeatedly telling me not to be afraid, and it was my father who was holding me tightly and silently.

Could it be that my father doesn't express his feelings, or is it ......

I began to search for answers with my heart.

Every time, my bike had a minor problem, but the next day, it was repaired and polished, only to find out afterwards that my father had done it.

The morning before each exam, I would have sharpened pencils on my desk, and only later did I know that my father had done it.

Every time I was angry at the sudden tripping of the TV, the TV screen would always light up, and I knew that my father had done it.

Every time I come home from school, I can almost always have a hot meal, and I know that my father made it.

The paper that was arranged on the desk was laid out by my father.

The beloved alarm clock at the head of the bed was repaired by my father.

The mark on the wall of the hut was erased by my father.

Suddenly, I realized: it was not my father's "dullness", but my stupidity, that I did not appreciate the warmth that burst out from behind the silence!

The light is silent and illuminates the earth; Love is speechless, and it warms the heart.

Fatherly love, wordless.

Is there a beautiful language that can speak of a mother's love? I don't think so. Is there any magic scale to measure a mother's love?

I don't think so. I read a newspaper that a massive mudslide on one night last June washed away four villages in Meigu County, Sichuan Province, and devoured more than 150 lives.

A young mother, despite the fact that her thigh had been crushed by the rocks, struggled to stand for more than four hours in the waist-deep mudslide with her hands held in high hands of her baby, who was only a few years old. She persevered until the early morning, and when the rescuers came, the baby was unscathed! As I read this story, tears flowed down my cheeks.

In the blur of tears, there seems to be a sculpture surrounded by divine light in front of me, and that is our mother! It is the light of motherhood of China that surrounds her! I once read an article in Reader magazine:

In the "Nanjing" air crash, almost all the passengers on the plane were killed, but a baby girl named Dani miraculously survived. It turned out that at the moment of the plane crash, Dani's mother Gong Hongmei held the child tightly in her arms, and used her body to block the rocks and foreign objects and the flames in her face, Gong Hongmei exchanged her death for little Dani's life. The mother hugged her daughter so tightly that it took a lot of effort for rescuers to get little Dani out.

It's been a few years since I read this article, when I was still a primary school student, but I'll never forget the shock it caused in my heart! With tears in my eyes, I pondered a question that was not appropriate for my age: What is a mother's love?

It seems that from this moment on, I found the answer. One day, my brother copied a little poem for me, the title of which was "A Bowl of Oil and Salt Rice": The day before yesterday, I came home from school and there was a bowl of oil and salt rice in the pot.

Yesterday, I came home from school and I didn't have a bowl of oil, salt and rice in the pot. Today, I came home from school and fried a bowl of rice with oil and salt and put it in front of my mother's grave. I was still in a state of ignorance when I swept my eyes over this little poem.

When I perused this little poem for the second time, tears flowed down my eyes. For such a mother who has to prepare a bowl of oil and salt rice for her children in the last days of her life, and for such a mother who does her best to give her children warmth and love in poverty and misery. Through the bitter wind and rain, I seem to see that in thousands of poor villages, there are thousands of such poor and great mothers!

Like many of my classmates, I grew up under my mother's loving care. Maybe because I have too much, I can't experience the preciousness of mother's love. It wasn't until my mother left me to work far away, and until I left my hometown to study in a vocational school, that I was separated from my parents for a long time.

During that time, whenever I saw my roommate happily getting together with my mother, who had come to visit, I would quietly hide from the side. Mother's love is the greatest in the world.

Parents give umbrellas in the rain.

Get up at night to warm milk for you.

How anxious you are with a cold.

There are many, recall, you will find, your own story is the most real, but also the most touching.