美文：母親的手 謹以此文獻給天下所有的母親
三月八號又要到了，謹以此文獻給天下所有的母親，也包括我的母親，我母親的母親，還有我自己。
night after night, she came to tuck me in, even long after my childhood years. following her longstanding custom, she'd lean down and push my long hair out of the way, then kiss my forehead.
i don't remember when it first started annoying me — her hands pushing my hair that way. but it did annoy me, for they felt work-worn and rough against my young skin. finally, one night, i shouted out at her, "don't do that anymore —your hands are too rough!" she didn't say anything in reply. but never again did my mother close out my day with that familiar expression of her love.
time after time, with the passing years, my thoughts returned to that night. by then i missed my mother's hands, missed her goodnight kiss on my forehead. sometimes the incident seemed very close, sometimes far away. but always it lurked, in the back of my mind.
well, the years have passed, and i'm not a little girl anymore. mom is in her mid-seventies, and those hands i once thought to be so rough are still doing things for me and my family. she's been our doctor, reaching into a medicine cabinet for the remedy to calm a young girl's stomach or soothe the boy's scraped knee. she cooks the best fried chicken in the world... gets stains out of blue jeans like i never could...
now, my own children are grown and gone. mom no longer has dad, and on special occasions, i find myself drawn next door to spend the night with her. so it was late on thanksgiving eve, as i slept in the bedroom of my youth, a familiar hand hesitantly run across my face to brush the hair from my forehead. then a kiss, ever so gently, touched my brow.
in my memory, for the thousandth time, i recalled the night my young voice complained, "don't do that anymore — your hands are too rough!" catching mom's hand in hand, i blurted out how sorry i was for that night. i thought she'd remember, as i did. but mom didn't know what i was talking about. she had forgotten — and forgiven — long ago.
that night, i fell asleep with a new appreciation for my gentle mother and her caring hands. and the guilt that i had carried around for so long was nowhere to be found.
原文鏈接：http://www.yeeyan.com/articles/view/64751/32182?orgin=index
母親總是在我入睡之后，為我掖好被子，然后俯下身子，輕輕撥開覆在我臉上的長發(fā)，親吻我的前額。日復(fù)一日，母親一直保持著這個習(xí)慣，即使我已不再是小孩子了，這一切卻依然故我。
不知從什么時候開始，母親的這種習(xí)慣漸漸讓我感到不悅----我不喜歡她那雙布滿老繭的手就這樣劃過我細嫩的皮膚。終于，在一個夜晚，我忍不住沖她吼了起來：“你不要再這樣了，你的手好粗糙！”母親無言以對。但從此卻再沒有用這種我熟悉的表達愛的方式來為我的一天畫上句號。
日子一天天過去，隨著時間的流逝，我卻總是不由得想起那一夜。我開始想念母親的那雙手，想念她印在我前額上的“晚安”。這種渴望忽遠忽近，但始終潛藏在我心靈深處的某個角落。
若干年后，我成熟了，已不再是個小女孩了。母親也已到了古稀之年，可她卻始終沒有停止過操勞，用她那雙曾經(jīng)被我視為“粗糙”的手為我和我的家庭做著力所能及的事情。她是我們的家庭醫(yī)生，小姑娘胃痛時，她會從藥箱里找出胃藥來，小男孩擦傷的膝蓋時，她會去安撫他的傷痛。她能做出世界上最好吃的炸雞，能把藍色牛仔褲上的污漬去得毫無痕跡......
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