Love you again-1

At the age of six, I stood under the old locust tree at the door, holding the steamed buns in my small hands and eating sweetly. 

She walked far away, wearing a big skirt, long hair over her shoulders, and high heels on the bluestone in the alley, crisp and melodious. 

I forgot I was hungry and watched her come to me, squatted down, and shout "smile". Tears burst out all over my face. 

At the dinner table that day, she smiled humbly at everyone, smiling at her grandmother, uncle, and even her little aunt. 

When she pulled out the beautiful flower clip from her head and pinned it gently on my head, Grandma said coldly beside her, "I loved her, so I took it with her. Here, I am thick and looked down upon by others." 

She was stunned and looked up at the blue sky and white clouds. There was only a flock of wild geese flying so far and so far away. 

After all, she was left alone, in a hurry, and refused. 

I chased behind and shouted "Auntie" in a mournful voice. 

Grandma chased after her and shouted, "you little heartless son of a bitch, who do you think will want you? cry again and be careful that your uncle breaks your leg." 

I immediately shivered, and my uncle was young and true to his word. 

He said that my parents had lost a lot of face to the family, but left a burden to disturb people here, and never had a good face. 

I know that because of my parents' reputation, my uncle can't get married, so he takes it out on me. 

I began to miss her, miss her tenderness, miss her beautiful smiling face, miss her surging tears, I do not know what I have done wrong, why everyone who has a relationship with me will shed tears when they see me, I just miss the way she looks at me, very warm, like mom! 

A month later, she reappeared under the big locust tree. This time, instead of smiling at anyone, she held her head high and smiled and said, "I'll go with a smile!" 

The sound, like the sound of nature, ran through my whole childhood, so warm and down-to-earth.

The sun was about to set, and she pulled me through the alley with meteors. There were many onlookers behind me, and someone shouted behind me: "daughter of the murderer, this time someone wants it." 

I held her hand tightly and lowered my head so deep that I dared not lift it. 

I have lived in this way since my mother was sentenced six months ago.

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