小时候的我不知道感恩，现在的我懂得了回报别人的爱；小时候的我不懂得独立，现在的我认识到了自立才能自强；小时候的我没有认识到自己的责任，现在的我学会了担当，学会了承担自己的、社会的、国家的责任。 我长大了。从一个什么也不懂的小孩，长成了一个人知道为人处世、知道发愤图强、知道人情冷暖，知道了了解了这个变化莫测的社会，也知道了只有妈妈的爱是无私的，是伟大的，是不求回报的。 小时候，你生病了，是她无微不至的照顾你；你失败了，是她在旁边默默地支持你，帮你走出失败的阴霾；你成功了，她比你还开心；你受伤了，她比你还痛苦，她就是妈妈，一个伟大的、在你眼里无所不能的女人。 小时的我们，有着叛逆的心理，对她有着许多的伤害，也许就在不经意间，你就深深的伤害了她，可她依旧爱你，包容你。即使懂事了，也或许由于爱不下面子，不好意思说一句“妈妈，对不起”，也可能这句话这辈子都说不出口，因为你知道，她对你的爱一丝一毫都不会减少。 小时候，我们会说我们有代沟，你不了解我，我长大了，你别老管我一类的话。这些话说出口，就代表了你，还只是个孩子，因为，当你真的长大后就会理解她，知道她是多么的爱你。 现在，我想告诉我的妈妈，我爱你。现在的我，长大了，学会了感恩，感谢妈妈的爱护；感谢朋友的帮助；感谢社会的温情；感谢所有帮助你，爱护你的人，而不再认为这是理所应当。学会了独立，自己做每一件事，尽到自己的最大努力，而不再仅仅依赖于别人。学会了担当，知道了自己的责任，周恩来同志有着“为中华之崛起而读书”的雄心壮志，而我们呢？或许没有他那么伟大，但我们可以为了未来让妈妈生活得更好而努力，这是每一个为人子女的人应当承担的责任。妈妈，我18岁了，真的长大了，谢谢你这么多年来付出的爱，现在的我可以知道了自己在干什么，想得到的是什么。 那么，现在开始请让我来爱你，因为我长大了…… （谨以此文表达对妈妈的爱，祝天下所有的妈妈幸福、快乐、健康）

1、I have bought food that I hope will please my mother, and that will be easy for her to eat: orzo salad with little pieces of crayfish cut into it, potato salad, small chunks of marinated tomatoes.　　2、l have brought her a bouquet of crimson, yellow, and salmon-pink snapdragons. She likes the flowers very much.　　3、 As I wipe my mother's face, I see that her skin is still beautiful I hold her chin in my hand and kiss her forehead.　　　　 My mother has no idea that her ninetieth birthday is coming up. She has no notion of the time of day, the day of the week. the season of the year, the year of the century. No notion of the approaching millennium. And no idea any longer, who I am. Her forgetting of me happened just a few months ago, after I had been traveling for more than a month and hadn't been to see her. When I came back, she asked me if I were her niece, l said no, I was her daughter. "Does that mean I had you?" she asked. 1 said yes. "Where was I when l had you?" she asked me. I told her she was in a hospital in Far Rockaway. New York. "So much has happened to me in my life." she said "You can't expect me to remember everything."　　　　 My mother was once a beautiful woman, but all her teeth are gone now. Toothless. No woman can be considered beautiful. Whenever I visit her in the nursing home, she is sitting at the table in the common dining room, her head in her hands, rocking. Medication has eased her anxiety, but nothing moves her from her stupor except occasional moments of fear, too deep for medication. This is a room that has no windows, that lets in no light, in which an overlarge TV is constantly blaring, sending images that no one looks at where the floors are beige tiles, the walls cream colored at the bottom, papered halfway up with a pattern of nearly invisible grayish leaves. Many of the residents sit staring, slack-jawed, open mouthed. I find it impossible to imagine what they might be looking at.　　　　 When I walk into the dining room on the day of my mother's birthday, I see that she has already been served lunch. The staff has forgotten to hold it back. Though I told them a week ago that I would be providing lunch. She hasn’t touched anything on her tray except a piece of carrot cake, which she holds in her hands. The icing is smeared on her hands and face. I don't want my friends to see her smeared with icing, so I wet a paper towel and wipe her. This fills me with a terrible tenderness, recalling, as it does. a gesture I have performed for my children. As I wipe my mother's face, I see that her skin is still beautiful I hold her chin in my hand and kiss her forehead. I tell her it's her birthday, that she's ninety years old. "How did that happen?" she asks. "I can't understand how that could happen."　　　　 l have brought her a bouquet of crimson, yellow, and salmon-pink snapdragons. She likes the flowers very much. She likes the name. "Snapdragons. It seems like an animal that's going to bite inc. But it's not an animal, it's a plant. That's a funny thing,"　　　　 I have bought food that I hope will please my mother, and that will be easy for her to eat: orzo salad with little pieces of crayfish cut into it, potato salad, small chunks of marinated tomatoes. I have bought paper plates with a rust-colored background, upon which are painted yellow and gold flowers and blue leaves.　　　　 My friends Nola and Gary come for my mother's birthday. When we are about to leave, I tell my mother that I'm going on vacation, mat I won't see her for three weeks, that 1 am going to the sea. "How will I stand that, how will I stand that's she says, but I know that a minute after I’m gone she'll forget I was there.