When I was young, I felt that home was the happiest harbor, a place where I could sleep and always have food when I returned. As I grew older, I felt that home was a cage that restricted me. I always wished to one day escape my mother's control and find a home of my own, where I could be free. But later on, I realized that I was merely a kite flying in the sky, with the string tightly held in my mother's hand.

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  Do you remember those moments of love and warmth? Are you willing to say the words you never said to her? If you could choose, which period of time would you most want to go back to?

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  For those who are busy striving outwardly, what they may miss the most is the taste of home, the taste of food. Home is a word that is both familiar and unfamiliar in our hearts. Maybe the meals cooked by our mothers weren't the most delicious, but they were certainly the warmest. Some say that there are no perfect things in this world, but you have a heart that tries its best to achieve perfection ❤️.

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  The taste of a mother's love is the most heartfelt. The taste of a mother's love is the most genuine. This time, in the name of love, we cook with love, making happiness visible. That "lost beauty" is no longer a regret.