Maternal love is a Chinese word, pronounced mǔ ài, which generally refers to a mother’s love for her children.

The tenderness, warmth, or love that belongs to a mother or that a mother should have.

I have compiled essays about maternal love for you, I hope it can be a reference for you.

Maternal love is as faint as the fragrance of orchids and fills the sky. The thread in the hands of the loving mother is on the clothes of the wanderer.

Departure thick seam, meaning fear of delay in return.

Whoever speaks of an inch of grass will be rewarded with three rays of spring light.

——Meng Jiao can't think of more gorgeous words to describe my mother who has accompanied me for 35 spring and autumn years. I can only use this poem that I can memorize by heart when I was a child to express the love and pity for me the most in the world.

, although her years have passed but her face is kind - mother.

With the warm breeze blowing in May, the fragrance of carnations begins to fill the air, because this passionate season is connected with a tender festival - Mother's Day!

Mother's Day is here again.

Mother's Day, a day of thanksgiving.

maternal love.

There is no need to remember that because it comes with life and is imprinted in the blood and hair and skin, every child owes a happiness to his mother.

I am grateful for maternal love, grateful for the selfless continuation of life, and even more grateful for this selfless debt to my mother. I have given too little to my mother, and I am not good at expressing love and gratitude to my mother.

However, my mother's love for me is always permeated in the fragrant dishes and lingering on the warm pillow. I am careless and often ignore these. I regard my mother's contribution as a natural thing. I love myself.

Far more than loving my mother.

Mom, you are an orchid that never fades. You are graceful and beautiful. You silently dedicate your youth to the family. It is true that "the orchids in the room will smell their fragrance over time." The three of us brothers and sisters are embraced by you in the quiet orchid.

Xiangli grew up.

-During my eight years of drifting south, in the dead of night, when I see thousands of candles and neon lights behind tall buildings, I always think of all the things you have said to me. At that time, I was bored and even wanted to escape, but little did I know

, everything is passing by like this with my faint clouds. Remember, every day is spent in your concern. You dreamed of me at night. The next day, you must make a greeting call and tell me to pay attention to the change of weather.

Please urge me not to forget to put on extra clothes, and notify me as soon as possible if there is any happy event at home, so that I can share in your happiness.

There are countless such things, and I have written them all down.

The years passed quickly through my mother's curled-up love. It wasn't until a very, very long time later, until many years later, that I finally realized that no one in this world could give me this selfless love, except my mother. In fact,

Like all relationships, the mother-daughter relationship also needs to be managed, expressed, and rendered. There are many forms of expression of love. For my mother, I feel that it is difficult for me to say words such as "I love you", so I choose

An action, I kept thinking about what gift to give?

Melt your gratitude for maternal love into a gentle hug?

In a decent shirt?

In a thoughtful greeting?

My mother is an elegant woman, quite ladylike and petty bourgeoisie.

On Mother's Day this year, I asked my sister-in-law to give my mother a pot of orchids and a bouquet of bright carnations.

I hope my mother's smile can relax the fine wrinkles on my face, which will be my most gentle enjoyment.

Walking in the busy world, I tore open my dusty and numb luggage and entered the house with my eternal mother's love. On the second Sunday of May, I called her and gently told her: Mom, I love you very much, just like you love me.

Just like the faint fragrance of orchids filling the sky, forever and ever, forever... Mother's love is speechless. Mother's love is speechless.

How many people can truly understand these four ordinary words?

There are many, many stories about my mother, but the ones that remain fresh in my memory are two stories told by an old man many years ago.

It was in the early 1970s when the thinking was still relatively backward. In our neighboring village, a middle-aged woman dragged her body, which was weak due to hunger, to send her son who was joining the army in the countryside to a small station in the county town. The bus was about to

When the train was about to leave, her son's bag strap was broken due to age and fatigue. The anxious mother did not hesitate to take off the coarse cloth belt that she had sewn with her own hands and had accompanied her for many years.

In the panic in front of everyone, the mother was in a hurry. She was shy, anxious, and used too much force, which made her face flushed. She tightly held the fat and slanted waistband of her trousers with one hand, and handed the belt to her son with the other hand.

My son choked up affectionately and asked, "How do you get home?"

My mother said, it's okay. There aren't many people on the mountain road for ten miles. I'll be home in a while.

Many years later, the son, who was already a military camp cadre, still kept his mother’s coarse cloth belt.

For many years, he did not ask, nor did he dare to ask, how his mother walked back home without a belt and holding the waistband of her trousers in an era when people were not very open-minded.

Another story is that of a mother and her daughter.

A little girl from the countryside was admitted to college. Her daughter lived alone outside for the first time. Her mother was worried about her at home all day and night, fearing that her daughter would not eat well or wear warm clothes.

In order to go to the provincial capital to see her daughter, she sold the eggs that her only domestic chicken had laid for many days, and then she had enough money to go to the provincial capital's university to see her daughter.

In the 1980s after the reform and opening up, most of the people who came to school to look after their children were those who got rich first.