Please follow my blog, click my escort gallery, I will provide the best escort service to you! This storry is about my hometown. When I was busy in the afternoon, I decided to go back to my hometown. The sunset glowed in the outline of the city building, and the cars on the street were coming and going. I don¡¯t like the excitement in the city, I will scare away the sunset. At this time, the wind is light, the fields are quiet, and the sunset is shy.
. The bus only went to the town. When I got off the car from my hometown, I heard someone shouting at me. It was my father¡¯s father who took my baggage and spoke with one hand: ¡°I received it, we received it, we will come back. ¡°When I handed the phone to me, my mother asked me what I wanted to eat for dinner. I said, ¡®Mom, I want to eat your noodles.¡¯
The small dirt slope in front of the door seemed strange and restrained under the night, and seemed to treat me as a distant guest. I learned that I was coming back. When I entered the door, I saw that my mother was walking towards the door. She looked at me and laughed and pulled me into the house.
¡°Sit down, it¡¯s hard to get in the car?¡± The mother was as excited as a child who got a beloved toy, and I sat on the sofa.
¡°Go wash your hands, sweat more along the way.¡± I just got up, and my mother hurriedly gestured to me not to move. I said to me, ¡°I will give you the end, don¡¯t pick it up.¡± Waiting for me to return, turn to the yard. It is.
The mother came to the water, handed me a towel, turned and ran to the kitchen. I know that my mother is making me a noodle. I remember that I was out of school one morning in junior high school. Because my mother was busy with farming and cooking late, I was angry and prepared to go to school without eating. The mother also let me sit, turned and ran to the kitchen to make me noodles.
I have eaten the noodles made by my mother many times, but I have never seen her look like noodles. Thinking of this, I gently came to the yard, the kitchen door was open, I stood a few meters away from the kitchen, just to see the mother.
The kitchen is still filled with white woven lamps. The night sky is surrounded by water vapor, and the faint yellow light emitted by the white light seems to be a little powerless. The mother was under the lamp, she was rubbing her face with a rolling pin, and the rolling pin was very thick. She seemed to use a lot of strength. The dough was gradually flattened by the rugged rough rolling under the rolling pin, and finally flattened on the chopping board like a piece of paper. Just like the road I walked from childhood to small, how many thorns and thorns were flattened by my mother with both hands Asian Escort New York.
I think my mother must have been so glutinous noodles before. The only change is that her hands are once white and smooth, and now it is rough and old. My mother suddenly looked up and saw me. I hurried out and asked if I couldn¡¯t stand it.
I couldn¡¯t say anything when I was flustered. I only shook my head and stopped looking at her. I went back to the house and sat down.
After a while, the mother came in with a large bowl of noodles. I got up and picked it up. She shouted: ¡°You don¡¯t move, the bowl is very hot.¡± I sit down again. She puts the bowl in front of me and hands it to me. Chopsticks, urging me to eat quickly.
Mothers always do this, and always urge me to eat hot when I eat. I heard her reminder before, and there was always a grievance in my heart. I was too slow to let her go. Today I picked up the chopsticks and put the noodles in my mouth.
¡°Don¡¯t be so big, be careful.¡±
¡°Right, put some vinegar, so delicious, I will take it.¡±
She turned to the kitchen to bring the vinegar and poured it into my bowl.
¡°How about, not light, then put some salt?¡±
I shook my head.
¡°Eat meat, that¡¯s what I put in my face, eat it!¡±
I picked up a piece of meat and ate it in my mouth. She was satisfied, standing on the side and watching me eat. I didn¡¯t persuade my mother to go to dinner, because I knew that I didn¡¯t finish it, she refused to go.
After eating a bowl of noodles, the sweat slid down the cheeks. The taste of the noodles was half in the mouth, sweet and pure, and the other half was in the heart, a bit sour. A small drop of liquid flows into the mouth, simmering, salty, not knowing that it is sweat, or the tears in my eyes.