The table, only one person I

At noon, her husband make dinner, go out to eat. Approaching 12 when her daughter called to say: "Mom, the big rain, I do not go back."
After listening to her words, pick up the phone hand floating, and I speak to her side and went to the balcony edge, open the window, reached into the outside. The rhythm of the dropping of the endless rain, a kind heart, my hands feel cool.
"Home burned chicken? You do not come back to eat?" I asked. "Otherwise, you sent me." Quipped the child said. "Then you eat in the school," After all, miles away from home one does.
Quiet living room, can hear the rain pounding the glass crackle. This nasty rain, ah, what is a few days with us. I complained in my heart from the Bad weather.
I opened the TV, watching the CCTV noon news, exchange programs, once pressed the close button. My heart is blank and the confusion, it is because her daughter can not come back today.
The table, placed the fragrant chicken, rice and cabbage soup, can I do no appetite. Large house, Leng Qingqing, only me. I Bala a few bites of rice, eat a few pieces of chicken, watching the bowl of vegetables floating in my heart empty.
When I wash dishes, legs foam, arm weakness. I think the child.
I know the taste of these meals is that the taste of home. Without the presence of her husband and daughter, then fragrance of food is unappetizing.