<strong>Name:</strong> Jingyi Wang
<strong>Age:</strong> 16
<strong>Grade:</strong> 10
<strong>School:</strong> Agape Christian School
<strong>Mom’s Name:</strong> Aimin, Liu
The brightness in her eyes lights up my whole world, and it blooms the flowers in my heart. My mother was an extremely gentle and compassionate woman. After I came into this world with a burst of crying, she was the first warmth I came into contact with. In my childhood, I still remember all kinds of memories with her under the peach blossom tree. That is my unforgettable treasure. I vaguely remember the peach blossom tree in front of the small courtyard of our home, with pink petals shaking the yellow and white stamens shyly under the breeze. In that naive childhood, I would always sneak out early, and invite all my friends under the tree. A group of children sat under the beautiful peach blossom tree; laughing, shouting, and talking about strange things. Disgraced, I always went back when the sun hit the top of my head. The scent of the food floats faintly in the air, teasing my growling stomach from afar. I carefully pushed the door, and I saw my mother cooking meatball porridge. It was so full that I couldn’t help wondering if the pot would suddenly overturn. My mother’s face was full of beads of sweat, and her eyes showed exhaustion. My heart felt sad. “Squeak” alarmed the mother in the kitchen. She wore a blue apron. When she saw me, she pushed me out of the kitchen. Maybe there was too much oily smoke in the kitchen, my eyes were moist, and tears overflowed. Under the peach blossom tree on a summer night, accompanied by the gentle evening breeze, my mother used Keigo Higashino’s The Miracles of the Namiya General Store to tell me what love is. “There is love in my heart, so I can not ignore other people’s troubles; there is love in my heart, so I choose to help others; there is love in my heart, so I can not be indifferent. The most beautiful thing in the world is love,” she said. The day I carried my schoolbag, my mother sent me to school. She helped me straighten my clothes and watched me with eyes full of expectation and a little bit of worry. I vaguely remember that my mother’s eyes seemed covered with fog. At that time, light rain fell from the sky, and silk raindrops fell on the peach blossom petals, slowly drawing a touch of reluctance and expectation. As I grow older, work becomes more. But every time I went to look under the peach blossom tree, the memories of my mother and I flashed past. When I came to the gate of the small courtyard, there were delicate petals scattered. I carefully pushed open the kitchen door again. At that time, there was a bright light in my mother’s eyes, and my heart felt warm immediately as if the flowers bloomed again. I hope that when I go back this time, petals will fall gently, and leave a fragrance of peach blossom.
