Mother: I Would Like to Write This Article in Memory of My Mother

I write this article in memory of my mother! The mother would always quietly walk to the window and stare for a long time at her son's back, which was drifting away under the street lights and finally disappearing around the corner. Under the dim light, the window frame freezes her lonely figure. This repetitive scene has become the most normal and painful footnote in later life. Outside the window is unfamiliar traffic and neon lights, and inside the window is boundless silence and waiting.