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The daughters of other families are all their mothers' little cotton-padded jackets. According to my mother's temperament that explodes whenever she encounters me, I guess I should be her little firecracker.
I sat at the table and looked up, and suddenly it was Mother's Day. I have never given my mother any holiday gifts when I was growing up.
This little essay recording our time together was given to her as a gift.
To my grumpy mother, I don't seek beauty or perfection, I just wish you success and health in the rest of your life.
PS: It seems that only novels can mark the style, so I can only change it.