第一篇:再见母亲的故事
回家的理由
妻子怀孕时,鲁平常常在梦里挣扎。烈日炎炎,他剃了小平头,校服裹在身上像透不过气的浓雾,汗水滴在回家的青石板路上。不远的前方是穿白衬衣的丰润背影,一样的利落发髻,脖颈上一样的黑痣,一样微微外撇的八字脚。鲁平嗓子发紧追上去,董姨!董姨!
妻子用力推醒了他。自从知道自己要当父亲后,早已没有联系的继母频频入梦,他心里有很多话,可就是堵在嗓子眼儿,一个字也吐不出来。
鲁平想这也许是怀念母亲了。因为许久都没回老家看她心有愧疚,投射到梦里阴差阳错变成了继母。这个理由其实说不过去,可它成了他请假回家的理由。母亲在小城的小跨院独居。鲁平进门就看见她坐在天井里择菜。漆已经掉光的木凳,磨平了折痕的洗衣池,还有母亲佝偻的背影。他在这个院子里生活了12年,然后20年过去,一切都仿佛没有变,除了母亲老了,房子旧了。
鲁平搬张凳子坐下,有一搭没一搭地跟母亲闲聊。晚饭吃什么?上次带回来的腰痛贴用完了吗?效果怎么样?去年修葺好的屋顶还渗不渗雨?问完了,他觉得似乎无话可说。当儿子的总是口拙,想了又想,吞吞吐吐终于说出心里压抑了很久的话:“妈,我昨晚梦见她了。”
他还是对在现实里说出“董姨”二字有心结。以前一起生活时,鲁平不屑于吐出这个称呼,似乎一出口就是对母亲的背叛,是自己原谅父亲、投靠到继母那边去的证据。母亲只淡淡地“哦”了一声,神色如一潭静水,丝毫没被投进去的这枚石子激起任何涟漪,她端着菜筐下厨。鲁平惶恐不安。他开始庆幸自己刚刚说的是“昨晚”,而不是“经常”。
最单纯的报复
父亲,母亲,董姨,这三个人的感情纠葛笼罩了鲁平整个青春期。
父亲与母亲相识相爱于微时,却在婚姻里做了冤家。那些至今还完好保存在鲁平记忆里的童年片段,母亲的多是眼泪和叹息,父亲的少不了烟熏酒臭,还有压抑后凭着酒劲抡给母亲的巴掌。
12岁那年,母亲离开这个家,父亲牵着他的手到了另一个女人家里。“叫董姨。”父亲温和但不容辩驳地命令儿子。回应他的是沉默。
董姨这个后妈并不像电视上演的、街坊四邻口中说的那样强势而凌人。她时常在鲁平面前流露出略显卑微地讨好和母性关切。董姨比父亲了解他,知道他最爱吃鸡腿,讨厌去学长笛而钟情画画。尽管多数时间他都以冷漠和挑衅回应继母的温情,但也会在某个时刻放下姿态,用孩子气的别扭要求继母:你,去开家长会。鲁平知道,只要来的是董姨,老师再怎么告状她也会替自己兜着。
人心不是铁石,他有一百个理由接纳继母的善意与关怀,可鲁平总在动摇时拼命回忆母亲的眼泪,他告诫自己:是这个女人逼走了妈妈。在继母初上门时,他跑去找母亲,“是不是因为她你才走的?”在一个自诩是大人的少年心里,沉默和不予否认就是最好的承认,他认定生母的离去一定有继母插足的原因。电视上都这么演的。
这是鲁平多年来恪守的信念,强烈的信念屏蔽了董姨对他所有的好。
并非真的再无瓜葛
大一那年,鲁平接到父亲猝然离世的电话。他脑子一片空白,悲痛之外还有说不出的如释重负。
回家后,他才知道如释重负来自于继母的诀别。从此他和这个女人再无联系,不用在对母亲的愧疚、对继母的好与恨之间纠结。鲁平成了单亲家庭的孩子,他和母亲相依为命。此时他已成年,在即将到来的未来里有能力为母亲撑起一片天。
至于继母,他拒绝再去想。大学毕业那年春节,在一片烟火和爆竹声中,一个念头飞快闪过:自从父亲走后,继母也是一个人过活,她身边一个亲人都没有,这个年她过得怎样?这个念头一旦生出,就在情感最隐秘处扎了根,在为生存忙碌、为爱情惊喜时发芽抽枝,最后蔓伸进鲁平的梦里。
2008年春节,妻子生下一个女儿,左耳垂下居然有一枚跟董姨一模一样的红痣。初为人父,鲁平对生命对生活有了更深层面的感知和体验。12岁少年对婚姻家庭的理解,与自己成家立业后的感悟截然不同。爱的对立面并非一定是恨,一个家庭的分崩离析有时并非全是外来者的作用。鲁平再也无法忽略对继母的复杂情感。她现在还好吗?一种空前的迫切感紧紧攥住他的喉咙。
直面才能解开心结
董姨还住在以前父亲的老家属楼里。开门的她老迈得就像深秋的山楂树,腰弯背驼,不停咳嗽。鲁平的突然到来让董姨欣喜不已,一个劲地擦眼角,颤颤巍巍开抽屉拿钱,要上街买菜为继子的到来准备大餐。这不是鲁平想象的再见面场景。实际上他也不知道自己该说什么。他干笑着把继母扶回屋。印象中这是他第一次扶着董姨。
她激动得身体有些打颤,像个被从天而降的宠爱弄得不知所措的孩子,连带说话也有些语无伦次:“你这么忙,难为还惦记着我,你来看看我我就念佛了,干吗还带这么多东西来,怪沉的,我什么都好,你不用操心。”
鲁平鼻子发酸。这么多年来,他第一次正视爱与恨的矛盾。无论她与父母有过多少情感纠结,她对自己是好的,尽心尽力照顾了自己6年。可是自己说走就走了。而多年后再见面,她竟然以更加卑微的姿态表达感激之意。
他想弥补,想为多年前的少不更事道歉,想说点煽情的话。但最后,他只是说出了在梦里追赶时的呼喊:董姨,董姨。剩下的又茫然了,最后终于挤出句完整的:“姨,今后我有空就会常回来的。”
她笑得露出豁牙:“回来时候来个电话,姨给你炖上排骨。”远处站在窗台上挥手的身影已经和梦里判若两人。她比母亲年轻,老得比母亲快。
恨是最无意义的事
鲁平彻底放下,是对董姨也是对自己的原谅。12岁时选择恨,却不知上一辈的恩怨他其实插不进去,更解决不了。恨是太沉重的东西,用恨来提醒爱,却也时刻在提醒父母和自己还有这样一段不堪回首的往事。苦的不只是才12岁的鲁平,是两个家庭的4个人。他觉得幸运,明白恨其实毫无意义时,有些人和事都还来得及。
2011年清明,他带着妻子女儿踏上回归故里的火车。一家三口拜访了母亲和董姨。“叫董奶奶。”他对女儿说,依稀想起当年父亲让自己叫“董姨”的情景。
女儿很乖,扬起笑脸甜蜜蜜喊“奶奶好”。当晚,鲁平梦到了父亲、母亲和董姨,他们什么都没说,只是微笑颔首,渐行渐远。再见,母亲。再见,那些早就该放下的过去。
第二篇:母亲故事
母亲故事
《没锁上的门》 乡偏僻小屋里住着一对母女,母亲深怕遭窃总是一到晚上便在门把上连锁三道锁;女儿则厌恶了像风景画般枯燥而一成不变的乡村生活,她向往都市,想去看看自己透过收音机所想象的那个华丽世界。某天清晨,女儿为了追求那虚幻的梦离开了母亲身边。她趁母亲睡觉时偷偷离家出走了。“妈,你就当作没我这个女儿吧。”可惜这世界不如她想象的美丽动人,她在不知不觉中,走向堕落之途,深陷无法自拔的泥淖中,这时她才领悟到自己的过错。经过十年后,已经长大女儿拖着受伤的心与狼狈的身躯,回到了故乡。她回到家时已是深夜,微弱的灯光透过门缝渗透出来。她轻轻敲了敲门,却突然有种不祥的预感。女儿扭开门把时吓了一跳。“好奇怪,母亲之前从来不曾忘记把门锁上的。”母亲瘦弱的身躯蜷曲在冰冷的地板,以令人心疼的模样睡着了。“妈……妈……”听到女儿的哭泣声,母亲睁开了眼睛,一语不发地搂住女儿疲惫的肩膀。在母亲怀里哭了很久之后,女儿突然好奇问道:“妈,今天你怎么没有锁门,有人闯进来怎么办?”母亲回答说:“不只是今天而已,我怕你晚上突然回来进不了家门,所以十年来门从没锁过。”母亲十年如一日,等待着女儿回来,女儿房间里的摆设一如当年。这天晚上,母女回复到十年前的样子,紧紧锁上房门睡着了
《便当里的头发》在那个贫困的年代里,很多同学往往连带个象样的便当到学校上课的能力都没有,我邻座的同学就是如此。他的饭菜永远是黑黑的豆豉,我的便当却经常装着火腿和荷包蛋,两者有着天壤之别。而且这个同学,每次都会先从便当里捡出头发之后,再若无其事地吃他的便当。这个令人浑身不舒服的发现一直持续着。“可见他妈妈有多邋遢,竟然每天饭里都有头发。”同学们私底下议论著。为了顾及同学自尊,又不能表现出来,总觉得好肮脏,因此对这同学的印象,也开始大打折扣。有一天学校放学之后,那同学叫住了我:“如果没什么事就去我家玩吧。”虽然心中不太愿意,不过自从同班以来,他第一次开口邀请我到家里玩,所以我不好意思拒绝他。随朋友来到了位于汉城最陡峭地形的某个贫民村。“妈,我带朋友来了。”听到同学兴奋的声音之后,房门打开了。他年迈的母亲出现在门口。“我儿子的朋友来啦,让我看看。”但是走出房门的同学母亲,只是用手摸着房门外的梁柱。原来她是双眼失明的盲人。我感觉到一阵鼻酸,一句话都说不出来。同学的便当菜虽然每天如常都是豆豉,却是眼睛看不到的母亲,小心翼翼帮他装的便当,那不只是一顿午餐,更是母亲满满的爱心,甚至连掺杂在里面的头发,也一样是母亲的爱。
母亲的名言警句
母爱是世间最真挚的爱。—董宝平
世界上有一种最美丽的声音,那便是母亲的呼唤。—但丁 世界上的一切光荣和骄傲,都来自母亲。—高尔基 母爱是一种巨大的火焰。—罗曼。罗兰 母亲的爱是永远不会枯竭的。—冈察洛夫
老舍说:失去了慈母便像花插在瓶子里,虽然还有色有香,却失去了根。我觉得这句话说明慈母对一个人是非常重要的,就想根对花一样重要。
世界上一切其他都是假的,空的,唯有母亲才是真的,永恒的,不灭的。(印度)
第三篇:母亲的故事
THE STORY OF A MOTHER.A MOTHER sat by her little child;she was very sad, for she feared it would die.It was quite pale, and its little eyes were closed, and sometimes it drew a heavy deep breath, almost like a sigh;and then the mother gazed more sadly than ever on the poor little creature.Some one knocked at the door, and a poor old man walked in.He was wrapped in something that looked like a great horse cloth;and he required it truly to keep him warm, for it was cold winter;the country everywhere lay covered with snow and ice, and the wind blew so sharply that it cut one's face.The little child had dozed off to sleep for a moment, and the mother, seeing that the old man shivered with the cold, rose and placed a small mug of beer on the stove to warm for him.The old man sat and rocked the cradle;and the mother seated herself on a chair near him, and looked at her sick child who still breathed heavily, and took hold of its little hand.“You think I shall keep him, do you not? ” she said.“Our all merciful God will surely not take him away from me.”
The old man, who was indeed Death himself, nodded his head in a peculiar manner, which might have signified either Yes, or No;and the mother cast down her eyes, while the tears rolled down her cheeks.Then her head became heavy, for she had not closed her eyes for three days and nights, and she slept, but only for a moment.Shivering with cold, she started up and looked round the room.The old man was gone, and her child it was gone too!the old man had taken it with him.In the corner of the room the old clock began to strike;“whirr” went the chains, the heavy weight sank to the ground, and the clock stopped;and the poor mother rushed out of the house calling for her child.Out in the snow sat a woman in long black garments, and she said to the mother, “Death has been with you in your room.I saw him hastening away with your little child;he strides faster than the wind, and never brings back what he has taken away.”
“Only tell me which way he has gone, ” said the mother;tell me the way, I will find him.“
”I know the way, “ said the woman in the black garments;”but before I tell you, you must sing to me all the songs that you have sung to your child;I love these songs, I have heard them before.I am Night, and I saw your tears flow as you sang.“
”I will sing them all to you, “ said the mother;”but do not detain me now.I must overtake him, and find my child.“
But Night sat silent and still.Then the mother wept and sang, and wrung her hands.And there were many songs, and yet even more tears;till at length Night said, ”Go to the right, into the dark forest of fir trees;for I saw Death take that road with your little child.“
Within the wood the mother came to cross roads, and she knew not which to take.Just by stood a thorn bush;it had neither leaf nor flower, for it was the cold winter time, and icicles hung on the branches.”Have you not seen Death go by, with my little child? “ she asked.”Yes, “ replied the thorn bush;”but I will not tell you which way he has taken until you have warmed
me in your bosom.I am freezing to death here, and turning to ice.“
Then she pressed the bramble to her bosom quite close, so that it might be thawed, and the thorns pierced her flesh, and great drops of blood flowed;but the bramble shot forth fresh green leaves, and they became flowers on the cold winter's night, so warm is the heart of a sorrowing mother.Then the bramble bush told her the path she must take.She came at length to a great lake, on which there was neither ship nor boat to be seen.The lake was not frozen sufficiently for her to pass over on the ice, nor was it open enough for her to wade through;and yet she must cross it, if she wished to find her child.Then she laid herself down to drink up the water of the lake, which was of course impossible for any human being to do;but the bereaved mother thought that perhaps a miracle might take place to help her.”You will never succeed in this, “ said the lake;let us make an agreement together which will be better.I love to collect pearls, and your eyes are the purest I have ever seen.If you will weep those eyes away in tears into my waters, then I will take you to the large hothouse where Death dwells and rears flowers and trees, every one of which is a human life.”
“Oh, what would I not give to reach my child!” said the weeping mother;and as she still continued to weep, her eyes fell into the depths of the lake, and became two costly pearls.Then the lake lifted her up, and wafted her across to the opposite shore as if she were on a swing, where stood a wonderful building many miles in length.No one could tell whether it was a mountain covered with forests and full of caves, or whether it had been built.But the poor mother could not see, for she had wept her eyes into the lake.“Where shall I find Death, who went away with my little child? ” she asked.“He has not arrived here yet, ” said an old gray haired woman, who was walking about, and watering Death's hothouse.“How have you found your way here? and who helped you? ”
“God has helped me, ” she replied.“He is merciful;
will you not be merciful too? Where shall I find my little child? ”
“I did not know the child, ” said the old woman;“and you are blind.Many flowers and trees have faded to night, and Death will soon come to transplant them.You know already that every human being has a life tree or a life flower, just as may be ordained for him.They look like other plants;but they have hearts that beat.Children's hearts also beat: from that you may perhaps be able to recognize your child.But what will you give me, if I tell you what more you will have to do?
”I have nothing to give, “ said the afflicted mother;”but I would go to the ends of the earth for you.“
”I can give you nothing to do for me there, “ said the old woman;
”but you can give me your long black hair.You know yourself that it is beautiful, and it pleases me.You can take my white hair in exchange, which will be something in return.“
”Do you ask nothing more than that? “ said she.”I will give it to you with pleasure.“
And she gave up her beautiful hair, and received in return the white locks of the old woman.Then they went into Death's vast hothouse, where flowers and trees grew together in wonderful profusion.Blooming hyacinths, under glass bells, and peonies, like strong trees.There grew water plants, some quite fresh, and others looking sickly, which had water snakes twining round them, and black crabs clinging to their stems.There stood noble palm trees, oaks, and plantains, and beneath them bloomed thyme and parsley.Each tree and flower had a name;each
represented a human life, and belonged to men still living, some in China, others in Greenland, and in all parts of the world.Some large trees had been planted in little pots, so that they were cramped for room, and seemed about to burst the pot to pieces;while many weak little flowers were growing in rich soil, with moss all around them, carefully tended and cared for.The
sorrowing mother bent over the little plants, and heard the human heart beating in each, and recognized the beatings of her child's heart among millions of others.”That is it, “ she cried, stretching out her hand towards a little crocus flower which hung down its sickly head.”Do not touch the flower, “ exclaimed the old woman;”but place yourself here;and when Death comes
I expect him every minute do not let him pull up that plant, but threaten him that if he does you will serve the other flowers in the same manner.This will make him afraid;for he must account to God for each of them.None can be uprooted, unless he receives permission to do so.“
There rushed through the hothouse a chill of icy coldness, and the blind mother felt that Death had arrived.”How did you find your way hither? “ asked he;”how could you come here faster than I have? “
”I am a mother, “ she answered.And Death stretched out his hand towards the delicate little flower;but she held her hands tightly round it, and held it fast at same time, with the most anxious care, lest she should touch one of the leaves.Then Death breathed upon her hands, and she felt his breath colder than the icy wind, and her hands sank down powerless.”You cannot prevail against me, “ said Death.”But a God of mercy can, “ said she.”I only do His will, “ replied Death.”I am his gardener.I take all His flowers and trees, and transplant them into the gardens of Paradise in an unknown land.How they flourish there, and what that garden resembles, I may not tell you.“
”Give me back my child, “ said the mother, weeping and imploring;and she seized two beautiful flowers in her hands, and cried to Death, ”I will tear up all your flowers, for I am in despair.“
”Do not touch them, “ said Death.”You say you are unhappy;and would you make another mother as unhappy as yourself? “
”Another mother!“ cried the poor woman, setting the flowers free from her hands.”There are your eyes, “ said Death.”I fished them up out of the lake for you.They were shining brightly;but I knew not they were yours.Take them back they are clearer now than
before and then look into the deep well which is close by here.I will tell you the names of the two flowers which you wished to pull up;and you will see the whole future of the human beings
they represent, and what you were about to frustrate and destroy.“
Then she looked into the well;and it was a glorious sight to behold how one of them became a blessing to the world, and how much happiness and joy it spread around.But she saw that the life of the other was full of care and poverty, misery and woe.”Both are the will of God, “ said Death.”Which is the unhappy flower, and which is the blessed one? “ she said.”That I may not tell you, “ said Death;”but thus far you may learn, that one of the two flowers represents your own child.It was the fate of your child that you saw, the future of your own child.“
Then the mother screamed aloud with terror, ”Which of them belongs to my child? Tell me that.Deliver the unhappy child.Release it from so much misery.Rather take it away.Take it to the kingdom of God.Forget my tears and my entreaties;forget all that I have said or done.“
”I do not understand you, “ said Death.”Will you have your child back? or shall I carry him away to a place that you do not know? “
Then the mother wrung her hands, fell on her knees, and prayed to God, ”Grant not my prayers, when they are contrary to Thy will, which at all times must be
the best.Oh, hear them not;" and her head sank on her bosom.Then Death carried away her child to the unknown land.THE END.
第四篇:母亲的故事
母亲的故事
贵州省普安县职业教育中心
王斌
有一个很远的地方叫故乡,家里有很多很多湮灭的故事,都与母亲有关————题记
石磨
石磨是家中历史刚刚翻过去的记忆,写满了浑黄的沉重。乌蒙的山风吹散早已遥远的故事两扇石头足以撑一部山村的变迁史。
石磨的脊梁上裸着黄土的生死梦,褶皱里裹着故乡的风雨泪,曾经苦难的命运是母亲篡改的画卷。与石磨相依为命的母亲,轻轻扶一扶磨把手,生活便结实了大半。
从茅屋中奔跑出来的呻吟,是山村古老的岁月。那沉重的声音,吟着贫穷与落后,低回的节拍敛聚着无言的痛苦,撞进我的灵魂深处。
沉重的石磨啊!你从原始的农业中走来,只留下一个圆的轨迹。相伴着你的母亲,却永远也摆脱不了一个周而复始的宿命,起点即是终点。走出山村,而我的起点刚刚开始。
油灯
母亲的油灯点燃的是人生,照亮的是苦涩的甘甜。什么时候油灯点亮着,希望的烟花也就燃烧着。一盏简单的油灯,却装入了母亲所有的沧桑。母亲用油灯灯焰熏着她一路走来的历程。
那时家里没有电灯,只有油灯的微亮,一种历史微光的闪耀在那茅屋柴扉的丛林中,开始了燎源之星。
而今,我的记忆流成一盏油灯,盛着儿时的快乐,泪水却流在母亲的额头上,每一根老茧的手指间。
为的明天,母亲才为我点燃起这点夜色下的火种,油灯便成夜里的一把火,在我的枕边燃烧。
在这漆黑的夜里,谁在缝补日月俱无的夜?谁在陪伴身边的灯火。
油灯虽现已作古,但在我心里,油灯是山村里一盏永远的灯火,一朵永恒的生命烟花。
顶针
村口的碎石子路边,母亲总像北雁一样守望着远方,远方成为永远的风景。
故乡的碗盏总盛放着儿时的梦。故乡的小路剪辑着记忆的窗花,母亲用一生织就了一双又一双黑面白底的布鞋。因为母亲知道我一出世,有一天必须走出家乡,走出母亲的掌心,走向远方。
于是,母亲指尖上这小小的顶针,便成了她一生的依恋。昏暗的油灯下,看着母亲用顶针一小针一小针的纳,证明着岁月质朴无华的煎熬。
飞翔在远方的鹰无法再去鸟瞰母亲的守望。可是,母亲知道,其实远方并不遥远,远方一直在母亲的心中。
远离故乡的我,生命有时是个谎言做成的信封,寄出的思情如一个个开始的地方,无法找回。和母亲相伴的顶针啊,早已被封存箱底,留下的只有母亲指节上的茧痕。
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第五篇:母亲的故事
母亲的故事
从前一个小孩病了,红润的小脸蛋越来越惨白,他躺在床上一动不动,眼睛紧紧闭着。母亲坐在床边,望着奄奄一息的孩子,非常焦虑,眼泪沿着她的双颊不停地流,她的样子看起来真叫人伤心。母亲的头感到非常沉重,她已经三天三夜没有睡觉了。现在,她再也支持不住了,就闭上眼睛慢慢睡着了。梦中,母亲仿佛觉得有人进门来。当她惊醒时,发现孩子已经不见了。原来是死神把孩子带走了。可怜的母亲痛哭着,跑出大门外面,大声哭喊着寻找自己的孩子。
外面的雪地里,坐着一个穿黑袍的女人,她就是夜神。母亲说:“夜神,你看见我的孩子了吗?”请你告诉我,他朝哪个方向去了,我要去找他!夜神说:我知道你的孩子去哪里了。不过,你得把唱给孩子的歌都再唱一遍。你唱得非常好,我看见你在唱歌的时候流出了眼泪,我最喜欢听这种动情的歌了。于是,母亲流着泪,迎着风雪,唱着一首又一首动情的歌。唱的歌多,流的泪更多。夜神听了歌,告诉母亲说:“死神抱着你的孩子,向右边黑丛林走去了。快去追吧!”
当母亲走到这片黑丛林时,发现根本就没有路,只有一片片长满尖牙挂着冰柱的荆棘。母亲问:荆棘,你看到死神抱着我的孩子走过这里吗?荆棘说:“我看到过。我快要冻死了。如果你把我抱在胸口上暖和一下,我就告诉你。”于是,母亲抱起又冰又尖的荆棘,放在自己的胸膛上。荆棘的尖刺深深地扎进她的肌肉,血一滴滴地往外流。荆棘得到了母亲给它的温暖。长出了绿叶,在这寒冷的冬夜里长出来小花。荆棘对母亲说:你的心是这样的温暖,像春天的阳光一样。你应该到湖边去找你的孩子。
母亲来到湖边,湖很大,附近也没有小船,她根本没有办法渡过湖去。于是,母亲就蹲下来,一口一口去喝湖水。她幻想着把湖水全喝干,这样,她就可以去找孩子了。大湖说:母亲,从来没有人能够喝干我的湖水。不过,你的眼睛太美了,这是我见到过最明亮的大珠子,如果你能把眼珠送给我,我就可以把你送到一个很大的温室里去。死神在那里种树栽花。死神说:每一棵树,每一朵花,都代表着一个人的生命!母亲说:“啊,为了孩子,我什么都愿意送给你!”说完,她的眼珠立刻坠落到湖里去了。湖用宽大的手掌,把母亲托起来,一直送到死神的温室里。看守死神温室的老太婆看见母亲,就问道:“你是谁呀,怎样找到这儿来了?母亲说:“请你帮助我找到我的孩子吧,我不能没有孩子呀。如果你愿意送一件礼物给我,我就把你带到温室里去啊。”“他是很仁慈的,所以你应该也很仁慈。我在什么地方可以找到我亲爱的孩子呢?” 母亲说:”我现在已经没有什么东西能送给你了,但是我愿意为你做任何事情。母亲走到一朵蓝色的早春花前,她突然听到了孩子的心跳。“啊,就是他,我找到我的孩子了。”母亲伸出双手,紧紧拥抱着这朵早春花。
这时,一阵冷风吹进温室,死神回来了。母亲请求死神把孩子还给她。死神飘到了母亲面前,手里托着两颗眼珠说:“这是你的眼珠吧,它是多么的明亮啊!可怜的人,快把眼珠放回原来的地方吧!”于是,母亲的眼睛又明亮起来。她看到了这朵蓝色的早春花。她的孩子正朝着花蕊里面走去。孩子周围是一片愉快欢乐的景象,那里没有饥饿,没有苦难,没有忧愁。死神对母亲说:“你是愿意自己忍受失去孩子的痛苦呢?还是想让他回到人间和你一起受苦受难呢?”母亲连忙说:“只有孩子能够得到幸福,再大的苦难我也愿意忍受!请你把我的孩子带进幸福的天国吧!在母亲虔诚的祈祷声里,死神带着她的孩子飞走了,一直飞到遥远的地方。