The first note I ever wrote for my mother said "Hi, Mom！Have a nice day！Love, Marie!". I was twelve when I wrote it, and I folded the 1 into her change purse.
My mother worked as a cleaner in a clothing factory. I knew that when she 2 meals in the dining hall, she would have to look for change in her purse. I didn't know that she would 3 that note, and always carry it with her.
From the day that I 4 folded the small piece of paper into my mother's change purse, she and I left each other 5 notes. They would be put in the fridge, under a lamp, or beside the TV set. I 6 found one hidden in my shoe. From the outside, our notes may have been general 7 of our days, ideas and wishes. But to my mother and 8, they were a lifelong communication with each other that no one else 9.
On October 20, 2009, my mother died after a long illness. I stood near her bed, 10 her hand, I didn't cry the day my mom died, 11 I didn't cry a week later when I went to collect her things. I was so thankful that she no longer had aches and 12. Recently, I found a note that my mom had 13 me. It had been hidden in the 14 of my favorite childhood book for years. It read "Dear Marie, I love you always.
Miss you a lot. Don't forget me. Be 15! Love, Mom" That day, I cried.
