更新時間：2021-04-14 16:17:20作者：網(wǎng)絡
小時候的我不知道感恩，現(xiàn)在的我懂得了回報別人的愛；小時候的我不懂得獨立，現(xiàn)在的我認識到了自立才能自強；小時候的我沒有認識到自己的責任，現(xiàn)在的我學會了擔當，學會了承擔自己的、社會的、國家的責任。 我長大了。從一個什么也不懂的小孩，長成了一個人知道為人處世、知道發(fā)憤圖強、知道人情冷暖，知道了了解了這個變化莫測的社會，也知道了只有媽媽的愛是無私的，是偉大的，是不求回報的。 小時候，你生病了，是她無微不至的照顧你；你失敗了，是她在旁邊默默地支持你，幫你走出失敗的陰霾；你成功了，她比你還開心；你受傷了，她比你還痛苦，她就是媽媽，一個偉大的、在你眼里無所不能的女人。 小時的我們，有著叛逆的心理，對她有著許多的傷害，也許就在不經(jīng)意間，你就深深的傷害了她，可她依舊愛你，包容你。即使懂事了，也或許由于愛不下面子，不好意思說一句“媽媽，對不起”，也可能這句話這輩子都說不出口，因為你知道，她對你的愛一絲一毫都不會減少。 小時候，我們會說我們有代溝，你不了解我，我長大了，你別老管我一類的話。這些話說出口，就代表了你，還只是個孩子，因為，當你真的長大后就會理解她，知道她是多么的愛你。 現(xiàn)在，我想告訴我的媽媽，我愛你。現(xiàn)在的我，長大了，學會了感恩，感謝媽媽的愛護；感謝朋友的幫助；感謝社會的溫情；感謝所有幫助你，愛護你的人，而不再認為這是理所應當。學會了獨立，自己做每一件事，盡到自己的最大努力，而不再僅僅依賴于別人。學會了擔當，知道了自己的責任，周恩來同志有著“為中華之崛起而讀書”的雄心壯志，而我們呢？或許沒有他那么偉大，但我們可以為了未來讓媽媽生活得更好而努力，這是每一個為人子女的人應當承擔的責任。媽媽，我18歲了，真的長大了，謝謝你這么多年來付出的愛，現(xiàn)在的我可以知道了自己在干什么，想得到的是什么。 那么，現(xiàn)在開始請讓我來愛你，因為我長大了…… （謹以此文表達對媽媽的愛，祝天下所有的媽媽幸福、快樂、健康）
1、I have bought food that I hope will please my mother, and that will be easy for her to eat: orzo salad with little pieces of crayfish cut into it, potato salad, small chunks of marinated tomatoes. 2、l have brought her a bouquet of crimson, yellow, and salmon-pink snapdragons. She likes the flowers very much. 3、 As I wipe my mother's face, I see that her skin is still beautiful I hold her chin in my hand and kiss her forehead. My mother has no idea that her ninetieth birthday is coming up. She has no notion of the time of day, the day of the week. the season of the year, the year of the century. No notion of the approaching millennium. And no idea any longer, who I am. Her forgetting of me happened just a few months ago, after I had been traveling for more than a month and hadn't been to see her. When I came back, she asked me if I were her niece, l said no, I was her daughter. "Does that mean I had you?" she asked. 1 said yes. "Where was I when l had you?" she asked me. I told her she was in a hospital in Far Rockaway. New York. "So much has happened to me in my life." she said "You can't expect me to remember everything." My mother was once a beautiful woman, but all her teeth are gone now. Toothless. No woman can be considered beautiful. Whenever I visit her in the nursing home, she is sitting at the table in the common dining room, her head in her hands, rocking. Medication has eased her anxiety, but nothing moves her from her stupor except occasional moments of fear, too deep for medication. This is a room that has no windows, that lets in no light, in which an overlarge TV is constantly blaring, sending images that no one looks at where the floors are beige tiles, the walls cream colored at the bottom, papered halfway up with a pattern of nearly invisible grayish leaves. Many of the residents sit staring, slack-jawed, open mouthed. I find it impossible to imagine what they might be looking at. When I walk into the dining room on the day of my mother's birthday, I see that she has already been served lunch. The staff has forgotten to hold it back. Though I told them a week ago that I would be providing lunch. She hasn’t touched anything on her tray except a piece of carrot cake, which she holds in her hands. The icing is smeared on her hands and face. I don't want my friends to see her smeared with icing, so I wet a paper towel and wipe her. This fills me with a terrible tenderness, recalling, as it does. a gesture I have performed for my children. As I wipe my mother's face, I see that her skin is still beautiful I hold her chin in my hand and kiss her forehead. I tell her it's her birthday, that she's ninety years old. "How did that happen?" she asks. "I can't understand how that could happen." l have brought her a bouquet of crimson, yellow, and salmon-pink snapdragons. She likes the flowers very much. She likes the name. "Snapdragons. It seems like an animal that's going to bite inc. But it's not an animal, it's a plant. That's a funny thing," I have bought food that I hope will please my mother, and that will be easy for her to eat: orzo salad with little pieces of crayfish cut into it, potato salad, small chunks of marinated tomatoes. I have bought paper plates with a rust-colored background, upon which are painted yellow and gold flowers and blue leaves. My friends Nola and Gary come for my mother's birthday. When we are about to leave, I tell my mother that I'm going on vacation, mat I won't see her for three weeks, that 1 am going to the sea. "How will I stand that, how will I stand that's she says, but I know that a minute after I’m gone she'll forget I was there.