The food in my memory is always so delicious.

  The cloud from my hometown floated slowly over my head with the smell of fireworks.In a trance,I saw the smoke of the kitchen dotted with the sunset in the farmhouse again,which was still familiar and graceful.

  I still remember clearly that in that era when firewood was used,the smoke on the roof was all my hope,which was all my sense of security.I often stand at the intersection where I have to go home from school and look at my roof carefully.As long as there is smoke rising on the roof,you can be sure that your parents have gone home and there are delicious food in the pot.I will speed up the pace of going home,go to that safe haven and start my happy time.

  Whether it is rice or noodles,I feel very comfortable in my stomach.Every meal can taste the process of slow work and meticulous work,and can also feel mother’s concentration and strong love when cooking.I am not picky about food,but I can’t eat fast food now.Its taste always makes people feel the impatience and haste of cookers.Even if I eat it,I don’t have the feeling of fusion when I was a child.

  There are many things that can’t be expressed,but they can be so real.The taste of mother’s meal,can not be explained clearly,but has been occupying the whole taste bud,involving a lot of nostalgia.In my memory,as long as the meal is made by my mother,it is just mixed with five flavors,which is just soft and crisp.

  The smoke from the kitchen in a trance today brought the smell of my mother’s cooking that year,which made me shed tears of surprise or heartbreak.Many people had already disappeared in my trance,just like the smoke of the kitchen,leaving no trace to find,even the memory was incomplete.

  In the process of missing and caring,the past came out one after another.In that plain time,there were so many luxurious happiness buried unexpectedly.The busy figure of mother in front of the stove is always so beautiful.The steaming food in the pot always floats away the fragrance of seducing taste buds.The smoke on the roof is always gentle and lingering.These are the longitude and latitude lines of my happiness in life,which symbolize my joys,sorrows and sorrows.

  The urgent phone ringing interrupted my mind,and Biao Mei said she would surprise me.I was stunned for a few seconds and asked her if the mountain flowers had come.If so,just take a few photos.I didn’t let the spring scenery down.

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