每当我过生日时 ,母亲都会陪我静坐在红烛前 ,看我吹灭与年俱增的生日蜡烛 ,一次又一次 ,一年又一年 ,次次如斯 ,年年如斯。母亲的生日我却很少顾及 ,甚至从不知晓。年轮翻滚 ,母亲在我日益长大的时光里悄然衰老。当母亲头上的白发从青丝中探出来时 ,我才明白许多。去年母亲生 Whenever I had a birthday, my mother would sit in front of the red candle with me and see me blow out the birthday candles that have been increasing year by year, again and again, year after year, times and so on. My mother’s birthday I seldom take care of, or even never know. As the rings grow, my mother quietly ages in my growing years. When the mother’s hair on the head out of the black hair, I understand a lot. Mother born last year