Beautiful love, as long as you think of it, is in your heart and by your side.

In March, the peach blossoms bloom, and the fragrance of flowers wafts in the air.

Seeing peach blossoms in bloom does not remind me of love, it only makes me miss my mother.

When you miss your mother, you will miss her delicious home-cooked meals, and your mouth will salivate more.

There are four home-cooked dishes that my mother is good at: pancakes, boiled fish, sauerkraut and tofu, and pickled salted vegetables.

My mother is a close friend, and neighbors sometimes come to ask her about her craftsmanship in detail, and some even take the pickle water back to make pickles to eat.

Every time my father brings cadres home, he must order these dishes.

These four dishes have become our family’s signature dishes over time.

When I was a child, I often watched my mother cook these dishes throughout the year.

I often grew up eating these dishes.

When I was a child, the burps were all the smell of my mother’s cooking.

What remains in my memory is the way my mother enjoyed cooking, and how she enjoyed eating with her family and guests.

But I've never done that. My mother never asked me to do it.

In addition to mothers, sisters-in-law and older sisters also do it.

However, every time I eat the food they cook, I always feel that it tastes delicious but feels like something is missing. I just can’t describe that feeling.

Life is so wonderful, with many unspeakable feelings.

Just like when you love someone, you can’t explain why, you just love her. Even if she makes you a little uncomfortable, you can't say anything.

Later, everyone had a small family, and they left their mother and went their separate ways, and her mother gradually got older.

It is also difficult for me to eat the dishes cooked by my mother. And my mother rarely cooks these dishes.

In March 2006, my mother passed away, when the peach blossoms were blooming, and I grieved for a whole spring.

But the craftsmanship of these dishes has also been passed down to the hands of my sister-in-law and sisters, and the dishes my mother cooked have become memories.

I will never see my mother again. I can no longer eat food cooked by my mother.

In a person's life, the people you love constitute the world you love. If one is missing, there will be more sadness; the food you love constitutes the life you love. If one is missing, there will be more. A kind of missing.

On the eve of the Spring Festival in 2013, I decided to go back to my hometown to celebrate the New Year. I called my sister and told her that I wanted to eat the four dishes that my mother is good at. On New Year's Eve, these four dishes were presented to me, all delicious and delicious. They were exactly the same as those cooked by my mother. I had a delicious meal and ate more than ever.

As the saying goes, hold your sister’s hand and smell your mother’s fragrance. I like my sister very much. She is like my mother. She can roll up her sleeves and kill chickens and sheep in the kitchen, and she can also know the general situation and take the overall situation into consideration when entering and exiting the hall.

In the short Spring Festival, I feel deeply happy and have been surrounded by the warmth of family love. Although I was full of joy, I still had an indescribable and subtle feeling. My sister's cooking skills are very good. After all these years, there is still something missing compared to what my mother cooks.

From then on, I never had my mother’s dishes again. Every time I think of it, I feel the fragrance of those dishes coming to my nose, still so familiar, so kind, so warm, and have not drifted away in time.

Just like beautiful love, as long as you think of it, it is in your heart and around you.

Today is the weekend, and I decided to cook my mother’s pancakes myself to get back the good things in my memory.

At noon, I searched for the ingredients, seasonings, and procedures that my mother used to make pancakes in my memory. After preparing everything, I started kneading, rolling, adding ingredients, shaping, and pancakes, all in one go, pancakes. Finally came out beautifully.

Thick, round, buttery-yellow pancakes taste: fragrant, crispy and crispy.

This is my first time making pancakes made by my mother, and overall they are pretty good. Xiuli initially said he would only eat half, but ended up eating two.

I really enjoy it.

After eating the pancakes, I sat in front of the computer and typed. My stomach was full, but I felt a small gap in my heart, as if something was missing.

What's missing?

I searched my memory over and over again, but couldn't remember anything.

I just feel that the pancakes made by my sister-in-law and I are not as good as those made by my mother, although the skills are inherited from my mother.

Yes, if it is not that person, the result will not be certain and the feeling will be different.

I think it may be that my sister-in-law and I lack the flavor of a mother.

Although the few specialty dishes made by my mother have long since grown into my flesh and my bones, they have nourished my life.

But I did not become the same person as her.

You can learn the essence of many beautiful things in life, but you can never copy a beautiful soul.

The smell of mother is, in fact, the smell of fireworks in life.

It’s just that we are missing.

(2018.03.04)