In the evening, my tired mother came back from work. She saw me lying in bed, touched my hot forehead, looked at my pain, and looked out of the window at the heavy rain. Without saying anything, she put on her raincoat and walked to the hospital with me on her back. Along the way, the wind roared more, the rain fell more, the wind and rain mercilessly hit us. When I got to the hospital, my mother gave me a number. The doctor gave me an injection. I fell asleep in a daze. When I woke up, I found my mother sitting by the bed. When I woke up, my mother finally smiled. I looked at her wet clothes and hair, nodded and couldn't speak excitedly. My mother, like a hard gardener, took pains to cultivate me. My mother worries about me, works hard for me, encourages me constantly, only hopes that one day, I can become an extraordinary person in the ordinary. In a word, it is hard to measure the hard work and love that my mother has paid for me. I will study hard and honor my mother.
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