2013高中英语阅读素材：母亲的手.docVIP

母亲的手 Night after night, she came to tuck me in, even long after my childhood years. Following her longstanding custom, shed lean down and push my long hair out of the way, then kiss my forehead.I dont remember when it first started annoying me — her hands pushing my hair that way. But it did annoy me, for they felt work-worn and rough against my young skin. Finally, one night, I shouted out at her, Dont do that anymore —your hands are too rough! She didnt 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 returned to that night. By then I missed my mothers hands, missed her goodnight kiss on my forehead. Sometimes the incident seemed very close, sometimes far away. But always it lurked, in the back of my mind.Well, the years have passed, and Im 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. Shes been our doctor, reaching into a medicine cabinet for the remedy to calm a young girls stomach or soothe the boys scraped knee. She cooks the best fried chicken in the world... gets stains out of blue jeans like I never could...Now, my own children are grown and gone. Mom no longer has Dad, and on special occasions, I find myself drawn next door to spend the night with her. So it was late on Thanksgiving Eve, as I slept in the bedroom of my youth, a familiar hand hesitantly run across my face to brush the hair from my forehead. Then a kiss, ever so gently, touched my brow.In my memory, for the thousandth time, I recalled the night my young voice complained, Dont do that anymore — your hands are too rough! Catching Moms hand in hand, I blurted out how sorry I was for that night. I thought shed remember, as I did. But Mom didnt know what I was talking about. She had forgotten — and forgiven — long ago.That night, I fell asleep with a new appreciation for