清明时节的雨丝,犹如天空洒落的眼泪,总是透着感伤。乌云紧压头顶,时空仿佛都凝固了。走在雨中,任由细雨打湿衣服和头发,痛彻心扉的思念也如这细雨般绵绵不断……母亲离开我们13年了。在母亲远去的日子里,她的孙子孙女也离开了家乡,或读书或到外地工作了。今年清明节,他们都回来,祭奠她老人家。早年,我们的家境十分贫穷。夏天,母亲带我们顶着烈日上山割茅草,晒干后烧火用。冬天,母亲带我们冒着凛冽的寒风去郊区菜地,捡菜叶回来做成菜泡饭, The rain of the Tomb Sweeping Festival, like the tears shed in the sky, always reveals sadness. Dark clouds squeeze overhead, as if time and space are solidified. Walking in the rain, let the rain drizzle clothes and hair, the heart of the thoughts of the rain is like a continuous rain ... ... the mother left us for 13 years. Her mother and grandchildren also left their hometowns or studied or worked outside the home on the day their mother was away. Ching Ming Festival this year, they are back, pay homage to her elderly. In our early years, our family was very poor. In the summer, my mother took us to the mountains and cut it under the scorching sun. In winter, my mother took us to brave the cold wind to the suburbs, picking up the leaves to make dishes soaked rice,