After a while，the wind began to{#blank#}1{#/blank#} {#blank#}2{#/blank#} .

    My mother only had one eye. And because of this, I never wished her to show up in my school, being afraid that my classmates would find out I had {#blank#}1{#/blank#} ugly mother.

    One day during elementary school, I was terribly ill. My mother {#blank#}2{#/blank#} (come).

    "Your mom only has one eye?!" asked some of my classmates. I was so embarrassed.

    I wished {#blank#}3{#/blank#} (I) mother would just disappear from this world. "If you make me teased（嘲笑）, why don't you just die?" I shouted at her, taking no notice of the sad look on her face. My mother just handed me some medicine and {#blank#}4{#/blank#} (leave) without saying anything.

    At that time, I felt good to say what I always wanted to say, and I {#blank#}5{#/blank#} (not) think I had hurt her feelings very much. That night I saw my mom crying in her room, so {#blank#}6{#/blank#} (quiet), as if she was afraid that she might disturb me. Even so, I hated her {#blank#}7{#/blank#} (tear) from one eye. I made a decision: I must study hard and leave her.

    Years later my dream came true. I was quite successful and lived alone. I never thought of going back to see my "ugly" mother {#blank#}8{#/blank#} one day I got a letter, which said, " My son…I'm sorry I only have one eye. When you were little, you got into an accident and lost your eye. As a mom, I couldn't stand {#blank#}9{#/blank#} (watch) you live with only one eye. So I gave you mine. I was never angry {#blank#}10{#/blank#} you and I never regretted what I did because I love you…"

    I cried out aloud. Only then did I realize how beautiful my mother was!

    Night after night, she came to help me sleep, even long after my childhood years.

    I don't remember {#blank#}1{#/blank#} it first started making me a little angry- my mom's hands pushing my hair that way. But it really made me {#blank#}2{#/blank#} ( comfortable), for they felt rough (粗糙的) against my young skin. {#blank#}3{#/blank#} (final), one night, I shouted at her, "Don't do that anymore. Your hands are too rough!" She didn't say anything, {#blank#}4{#/blank#} she never did it again.

    Years later, I missed my mother's hands and her goodnight kiss on my face. I'm not a little girl any more. My mom is {#blank#}5{#/blank#} her mid-seventies，and her rough hands are still doing things for my family and me.

    Now my own children have grown up. It was late on Thanksgiving Eve. As I slept in my bedroom, a familiar hand ran across {#blank#}6{#/blank#} (I) face to push the hair from my head. Then a kiss, ever so {#blank#}7{#/blank#}(soft), touched my brow(额头).

    {#blank#}8{#/blank#} (take) my mom's hand, I told her how sorry I was for the night I shouted at her. But my mom didn't know what I was talking about. She had forgotten it long ago.

    That night, I fell {#blank#}9{#/blank#} (sleep) with the new appreciation(感激) for my mother's caring hands. And {#blank#}10{#/blank#} guilt(内疚) that I had carried around for so long was nowhere to be found.