Rough Hands， Tender Love

Night after night， Mom came to tuck me in， even long after my childhood years. Following her long-standing custom， she leaned down， pushed my long hair out of my face， and then kissed my forehead.

I don’t remember when it first started annoying me. 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 couldn’t help returning to that night. I missed my mother’s hands and missed her goodnight kiss on my forehead.

Well， several 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.

On a Thanksgiving Eve， as I slept in the bedroom of my youth， a familiar hand hesitantly ran across my face to brush the hair from my forehead. Then a kiss， ever so gently， touched my brow.

Catching Mom’s hand in my 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 it， and forgiven me 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.

夜復一夜，母親總是為我掖好被子，然后俯下身子，撥開覆在我臉上的長發，親吻我的額頭。母親一直保持著這個習慣，即使我已不再是小孩子了。

不知從什么時候開始，母親的這種習慣讓我感到不悅。終于，在一個夜晚，我沖她吼了起來：“你不要再這樣做了，你的手太粗糙了！”母親一言不發，但此后，她再沒有用這種我熟悉的愛的方式來為我的一天畫上句號。

隨著時間的流逝，很多年過去了，我總禁不住想起那個晚上。我想念母親的雙手，想念她印在我額頭上的晚安之吻。

這么多年過去了，我已不再是個小女孩了。母親也已到了古稀之年，可她那雙曾經讓我覺得粗糙的手卻依然在為我和我的家庭操勞。

在一個感恩節的前夜，我睡在兒時的臥室，一只熟悉的手猶豫著從我的臉上掠過，梳理著我前額的頭發。然后，一個吻，帶著一如往日的溫柔，輕輕落在了我的額頭。

我抓住母親的手，一股腦說出我對那一晚深深的愧疚。我想，她一定和我一樣，對那晚的事歷歷在目。然而，母親卻不知我在說些什么。她早忘了，早已原諒我了。

那天晚上，我帶著對母親新的感激安然入睡，我感激她的溫柔，和她那呵護我的雙手。多年來壓在我心頭的負罪感也隨之煙消云散了。