In the early spring, I went out with my friends. Suddenly, I received a call from my father, saying that my two sisters had gone back to our hometown to burn paper money for mother. Then I wanted to go back to my hometown too. My friend kindly said he was willing to go with me. After talking for a while, we arrived at my hometown. When we passed by the cemetery in the village, I got off the car. I said that I would like to pay respect to ancestors.
I saw the yellow Forsythia flowers far away. I knew that was my mother's grave. After mother passed away, my eldest brother planted a bundle of Forsythia branches on her tomb and they took root there. It was really good. When the spring came, mother knew it first. The yellow Forsythia flowers were so bright. Were they the soul of my mother? Tears came out even before I walked closer. In my tearful eyes, Forsythia flowers trembled. "Mom, are you crying too?" My knees went weak and I knelt down in front of my mother's tomb.
For a long time, I could not face mother's portrait. How could my mother become a photo? I could not talk about my mother. How could my mother leave and never come back? I did not want to go back to my hometown. Every plant there could remind me of her but none of them could bring my mother back. I even tabooed the word "mother". I used to have a mother, but where is she now?