I don't know what love is until I grow up, and the requirements for marriage and love are already very high. Or earlier, since I knew what happy love and marriage were, I set the standard for a happy marriage.

Not because I think too highly of myself. It's not because I think I'm excellent. Most boys don't deserve me. Absolutely not.

I know I don't need to explain. Why should I? Everyone has a different interpretation of love, marriage and even happiness.

I am very lucky. I have the most loving parents and the most harmonious family in the world. My view on marriage and love comes from my parents. When I was very young, I didn't understand why people have different personalities and are also children, why some children are naive and interesting, and why some children are unsociable.

A little older, I know what forms our character.

That's because we live in different family environments.

Our family is not rich, but there is something in our family that always seems to overflow.

Yes, that is happiness. Our little home simply can't hold so much laughter and happiness. It always sneaks out from the window and the crack of the door, infecting everyone who passes by our house.

My parents add up to almost 100 years old, but they will wait until we fall asleep, sneak out and walk hand in hand in the moonlight.

How romantic.

They always have endless words. Oh, who said that marriage is the grave of love?

Once, mom was late from work, and dad cooked the meal, but he couldn't eat it. He told us to eat first. At first he just watched from the balcony, but then he couldn't help it and went downstairs. I saw my father standing at the intersection on the balcony, staring at the direction where my mother usually returned, without even shifting her eyes until my mother appeared on a bicycle.

His father greeted him and his mother got off the bus. It's like practicing thousands of times. I have never seen how the bicycle was handed over to my father and how my mother's backpack was transferred to my father's shoulder. They talked all the way, not knowing what to say. In fact, they have only been separated for five hours from 2 noon to 7 o'clock now, but will people in love feel separated for a century?

After many years, I still remember that the weather was fine that day. The sunset in the evening shines warmly on the earth, and the orange sunshine shines on my parents, just like the characters in fairy tales come out of books.

That's great.

Father often tells us about his first meeting with his mother. At that time, my mother was only 18 years old, and I didn't know who he was. The young girl has a fair face, slender eyebrows, slightly upturned corners of her mouth and a pair of dimples on her cheeks. Two long braids, swaying behind the slender waist when walking, are extremely charming and lovely.

Father's description has obvious emotional color, and the mother in memory is simply a woman who looks like a fairy.

He said that when he saw it, he thought, I don't know which young man would have the blessing to marry this girl home.

He said that among a large group of rural girls, my mother is outstanding because my mother has been doing business with my grandfather since she was a child. It can be said that she is well-informed and superior in ability. Those local girls who are tied behind her can't compare with my mother at all.

In my eyes, my mother is just an ordinary woman, not beautiful. Of course, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. In her father's eyes, she is different. In her father's eyes, her mother will always be that charming and lovely little girl.

Father dotes on mother. As far as I can remember, as long as my father is at home, my mother never cooks. It seems that my mother is not good at housework either. The most interesting thing is that as long as it's mom's favorite food, dad never touches it, and neither are brothers and sisters.

Mother has been treated like a princess since she married her father. Just a princess in distress. I mean, we have no money at home.

When I get older, my mother starts nagging and often accuses my father of being unreasonable. Sometimes even we can't listen anymore, but my father doesn't mind. Instead, he poured a glass of water to moisten her throat.

Mom is neither beautiful nor gentle, and she is not good at housework. She can't even cook, so what does dad love about her?

So sometimes I think there is only one word that can explain all this, and that is fate.

I remember once our family gathered in the small living room to watch TV, which was the original 12 inch black and white TV. The three of us, brother and sister, talked endlessly about whether the heroine A is beautiful or the heroine B is beautiful, and we had a big argument. My parents are also watching us laugh. They have always been very open-minded.

I remember my father was smoking. He brushed the ashes slowly and said that he wanted to be fair.

We all quieted down and listened to my father's ruling, including my mother. All eyes were on my father.

I said, dad looked at his mother around him, with a gentle smile on his face, and said slowly, who can be as beautiful as your mother?

There was an uproar, and we three brothers and sisters screamed. I clearly saw my middle-aged mother gently pushing my father's arm, whispering something, and glanced at us quickly, and a faint blush slowly appeared on her cheeks.

My father laughed proudly and fell on the arm of the sofa.

Who else wants to watch TV? We surrounded our mother and forced her to tell us how she felt when she first met her father.

In fact, we have heard it n times, but we never get tired of it.

We like listening to our parents talk about their past years. They are also very interesting, willing to say that we often finish our homework quickly and sit next to them and listen to their true stories.

Mother combed her hair and began to tell stories.

At that time, someone in our commune said he would introduce me to someone, and I was of marriageable age, so your grandfather said to let others meet me. At this point, my mother looked up at her smiling father and said, Your father was black and thin, but he looked very energetic because he was wearing a military uniform.

Yes, my sister casually promised that boys look very powerful in military uniforms.

Powerful? Mother uses rhetorical questions. She raised her eyebrows, glanced sideways at her father, and then said, him?

We three brothers and sisters were taken in.

My father almost dropped his cigarette with a smile, trying to warn my mother not to denigrate my tall image. He held his mother's hand and shook it as hard as punishment.

Now that I think about it, they are obviously flirting, but this scene is very warm, and we children who don't understand love can strongly feel the deep love between them.

Mom giggled, and that happy face really touched me. At that moment, I thought, I want to marry a man who can make me laugh so touching in the future.

Mom went on to say: at that time, the introducer brought him here, talked for a long time, praised your father, and I began to worry.

What are you worried about? Brother socket.

You don't know, my mother raised her hand to caress her blushing cheek and whispered, he sat in my house for a long time without saying a word, not even an obvious expression.

Father is boring Jack: You have no idea how nervous I am.

We booed him, and dad pretended to be angry, but we were not afraid, because experience told us that he would not be really angry at this time.

Sure enough, my mother just gently shook my father's hand and shook back my father's smile.

Everything has its vanquisher. My mother gave us a vivid description: at that time, I quietly pulled my grandfather over and said to him, Grandpa, go talk to him and try him. Why doesn't this man speak? ..... don't be silly.

We burst into laughter, and my father pleaded with a red face and a smile: this shows that I am honest.

The family laughed into a ball.

Later, his father died at the age of 46

Mother was only 45 years old.

Mom has always been a stubborn and strong woman, but this time, she was completely defeated. A few days after my father's death, I often heard crying in my mother's room at night.

Mother's eyes are red almost every morning.

My sister whispered to me: if I have been spoiled like this for more than 20 years, I will be satisfied. Where you will go is always inevitable. Life is like this. How many couples are strangers to strange bedfellows? How many women have been loved all their lives like their mothers? It is not good for your health for your mother to be so sad.

Yes, I looked at my sister. Anyone can tell the truth, but who can?

As time went on, my mother recovered her calm.

We tried our best not to let mother do housework, but she refused. Mother began to learn to do housework. Only once when she was cooking, she asked me: Do you put ginger and garlic or sugar in this sweet and sour pork ribs first? I told her that after a while, she slowly said that learning to cook when you are old will really make others laugh.

I am silent.

It's been more than five years since my father died, and we don't often hear my mother cry at night, thinking that my mother has been freed from sadness.

We three brothers and sisters even began to plan to find a suitable wife for our mother to accompany her lonely life.

When we got up the courage to tell our mother what we were going to do, she didn't lose her temper as we thought. She just said: I have an appointment with your father, and no matter who leaves first, we will not remarry. How else will we meet in the future?

We heard it with horror.

Mom smiled and said that he was really lucky to leave before me.

Really, I tremble silently. Yes, if I have a husband who loves me so much, I don't want him to leave me first.

For seven years, my mother has become a grandmother. Her face is full of quiet smiles, and she is willing to tell some old stories to my brother's children.

We feel much more relaxed. Everyone thinks that mother is used to life without father.

Until one day, I woke up from my sleep and suddenly heard my mother come back from outside, closed the door gently and quietly returned to my room.

I'm confused. I got up quietly and went to my mother's room. There is a dim light in her room. Suddenly, I heard my mother mutter: Is it a little cold today? Fortunately, I added a coat. Are you cold? We walked further today than yesterday, and we are really a little tired. Maybe I'm really old ...

The more I listen, the more scared I am. My mother can't stand the blow because she lost her father, but ...

Through the crack of the door, I saw my mother sitting by the bed, looking so young in the dim light.

Mom didn't notice me. She lowered her eyebrows and stared at what she was holding. Following her eyes, I saw my mother holding a picture of my father in her hand and still whispering. I saw my father smiling at my mother in the photo, and there was endless warmth in that smile.

A crystal tear slipped from my mother's face and landed on my father's photo.

I saw my mother smiling. As her father said, when she smiled, her mouth turned slightly upward and a pair of dimples appeared on her cheeks.