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中午,时针“滴嗒”指向了数字“1”。母亲早已卧床休息,我蹑手蹑脚地出了家门。踏着树阴一路来到教室,同桌正伏在桌上写作业。我坐下了,同桌却依然未觉察我的到来,手中的笔仍在纸上“沙沙”地写着。这时,我又想起了母亲那轻轻的关门声。每次临睡前,母亲都会来到我的床边,替我盖好被,把被沿掖好,然后熄灯关门,轻轻离去。我缩在被窝里,看着从门外透进来的光线一点一点地消失,最后一声轻微而有力的“咔嚓”声——门合上了。母亲是怕惊扰到被窝里的我吧。有时候,
At noon, the hour hand “drip” points to the number “1”. My mother had already stayed in bed and I stole my home. Walking all the way to the classroom in the shade of trees, the same table is on the table to write homework. I sat down, but I still did not notice my arrival at the same table. The pen in my hand was still written on paper. At this time, I remembered my mother’s soft closing. Every time before going to bed, my mother would come to my bedside to cover up for me. I would like to be followed up, then turn off the lights and close the door and gently leave. I huddled in the bed and watched the light that had passed through the door disappear little by little. The last sound was a slight, powerful “click” - the door closed. My mother is afraid of disturbing me in bed. sometimes,