心灵鸡汤--感悟亲情

Mother’s Hands

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 knees. She cooks the best fried chicken in the world and 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.

母亲的手

夜复一夜，她都过来给我掖被子，甚至在我的童年过去很久之后还是那样。这种习惯由来已久，她常常俯下身，拨开我的长发，然后吻我的前额。

我不记得最初从什么时候开始讨厌她用手拨开我的头发。但那的确让我讨厌，因为她长期劳作的手摸在我细嫩的皮肤上是那样粗糙。终于，有一天夜里，我朝她大声喊道：“不要再这样做了——你的手太粗糙了！”她什么也没有说。但母亲再也没有用那种熟悉的爱的方式来结束我的一天。

光阴荏苒，日月如梭，许多年后，我的思绪又回到了那天夜里。那时我想念母亲的手，想念她留在我前额上的晚安之吻。有时这情景似乎很近，有时又似乎很远。但它总是潜伏在我的脑海深处。

噢，时光流逝，我不再是小姑娘了。母亲也已经七十四五岁了，那双我曾认为粗糙的手仍在为我和我的家庭做事。她是我们的医生，常常伸手去药箱里给我胃疼的女儿找药或为我的儿子擦伤的膝盖敷药。她能做出世界上味道最美的炸鸡，能洗掉牛仔裤上我永远洗不掉的污点……

现在，我自己的孩子都已经长大成人，离开了家。爸爸也撒手而去了。在那些特殊时刻，我常常情不自禁地走到隔壁，和她一起过夜。因此，一次感恩节前夕，到了深夜，我睡在年轻时的卧室里时，一只熟悉的手迟疑地滑过了我的脸，拨开了我前额的头发，随后一个吻触在了我的前额上，是那样轻柔。

我在记忆里无数次回想起那天夜里我年轻气盛发的牢骚：“不要再那样做了——你的手太粗糙了！”我握住母亲的手，脱口说出了我是多么后悔那天夜里自己所说的话。我以为她会像我一样记得这件事。但妈妈不知道我在说什么。她早已忘记了这件事，也早已原谅了我。

那天夜里，我带着对温柔母亲和她体贴双手的新的感激之情进入了梦乡。而且我长久以来的内疚感也消失得无影无踪了。