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五月——这个被康乃馨包围的季节:母亲——这个流淌在血液里的名词;mama——这个千百年来人类开口发音的第一个音节:母爱——这个在无数作家、诗人笔下创作到永远的母题……随着五月的到来,这一切的一切,都撩起了我的翩翩思绪。掐着日子,算好了邮政寄送的时间,我满怀欣喜地将自己写给妈妈的明信片,小心翼翼地塞进了邮筒。提起钢笔,只要一想到这个五月的第二个周日一一这个意义非凡的节日,我便思如泉涌:仿佛是坐着时光机,回到了小时候,回到了在妈妈身边撒娇的日子,回到了津津
May - the season surrounded by carnations: mother - the name flowing in the blood; mama - the first syllable of the human mouth for thousands of years: maternal love - created by countless writers and poets To the eternal motif ... With the arrival of May, all of this, have lifted my mind. Pinch the day, calculate the postal delivery time, I am full of joy to write their own mother’s postcard, carefully crammed into the postbox. Pens, as long as the thought of this May the second Sunday eleven this extraordinary festival, I think of a surging stream: as if sitting on a time machine, back to childhood, back to her mother’s side of the coy, back To Jinjin