My mother has never worn jewelry for a lifetime. On the day of her 60th birthday, I bought her a gold mom name ring. When I put the heart ring on her finger, I found that the shiny thimble was still on her finger. As time goes by, her hand was getting rougher, but the thimble on the finger was still bright.

Looking at this shiny thimble, I remembered some events in the past. My mother’s hand had been wearing this thimble as long as I can remember. It is said that it was a dowry for her mother to give her. The thimble was made of brass, which the ring was as wide as two rings, the inner circle was engraved with a small plum pattern, and the outer ring was covered with dense small dens.

The thimble was an essential tool for needlework. In our village, my mother had a good hand for needlework. Most of the clothes and shoes I wore were made by my mother when I was a child. Whenever slack season, she would sort out the old clothes that couldn’t be worn at home, carefully cut them into pieces of cloth, and then found a piece of banquet or door panel, and pasted the cloth that has been washed. After being dried and peeled off, it became the raw material for the “thousand layers of bottom”.

Then, she would pull out a large stack of shoes from the box. According to these shoes of various sizes, she cut a large piece of cloth into several pieces of the same size, and picked up the several layers, then used the new white cotton cloth to cover the upper and lower sides, inserted the edges, and finally sew them tightly with the shoe line. Consequently, a pair of firm insoles would be done.

She must make shoes at night, because she needed to work in the field during the day. Every night, under the dim light, she sat under the lamp to wear a thimble and let the long line of shoes, which became the most familiar picture of my childhood. She always used the sewing needle to pinch the position in the sole of the shoe, and then pushed the needle through the sole with the thimble. If the needle line didn’t pass, she would use the pliers. In order to make a hard shoe, she always pulled the line tightly with her hand. When a pair of soles are finished, her fingers were all scarred.

In the years of studying outdoors, I often received clothes , thick cotton, coats, or shoes from my mother. Looking at the fine and even stitches, I always reminded of my mother’s rough hands and the thimble.

Later, I had settled in the city, and my mother still did a few pairs of shoes for us every year. However, we rarely worn shoes made by our mother to go out at that time. Once I advised my mother not to work so hard anymore. She always said: “I wanted to make a few pairs of shoes until my eyes didn’t go work efficiently.”I suddenly realized that the thimble was the ring that would accompany her life, although I gave her a mother’s ring which was expensive and gorgeous than the thimble.