In fact, it doesn't matter how successful you learn to boast about the meaning of struggle. In fact, you just want to make the people you love live better. There is a European antique telephone on the table in my living room. Next to it is a wedding photo of him and his mother. In the photo, he is unusually pursing his lips and wringing, looking very shy. His mother is taller than him, which is not a perfect match for outsiders. When taking this wedding photo, he kept his mother lower. When he took it, his mother was still half a head taller than him. When my father was young, he was very handsome, with sharp edges and corners. He was quite tall. Although he was not tall, fortunately, he had a fairly fresh face. In his heart, his father is an extroverted and competitive figure of pragmatism. At the age of 17 or 18, he is full of wandering the world - learning from teachers and skills, endless high-rise buildings, and a group of passionate young people like them, talking about entrepreneurship, ambition and the future. As a result, reality gave him a big ear scratch. His first job was to be a small worker in the logging yard, stepping on the earth and carrying wood and stones on his shoulders. During the day, the sun was hot, and at night, the hula wind blew the tent up and down. The master paid homage to him, but he only worked for his father and never taught craftsmanship. After years of work, my father left nothing but a stubborn disease. In this way, I stayed 25 years old and finally caught up with the tide of migrant workers entering the city. My father didn't want to make any money. Just learn a craft and make a living. At that time, the first-class small workers who usually worked much and hard on the construction site could give priority to working more hours and earn more work points in the evening. In order to earn more points, my father became a first-class worker. My father was not strong and couldn't carry it for a long time. He had to change his profession to do the decoration project with the relationship of several fellow villagers. Decoration is absolutely rare in that era when face tickets are used to buy noodles. My father has attracted some customers because of his skillful speculation. There are several small projects every year, and there is a surplus in his pocket. Anyway, he has a foothold in the city. The foreign villagers saw that their father had made money, and their eyes were red. They said they would work together with their father. They wanted to eat their father alive. One day, several villagers led their father to an old house in the old city. Without saying a word, they showed the guy. His father was stubborn and didn't follow their wishes. When he came back that night, half of his face was dripping with hot liquid, which frightened the three of us, but fortunately only hurt the skin. In the future, every time I see the crescent shaped scar between my father's eyebrows, I always feel out of breath. Last month, she received a phone call from her mother. She cried and said, son, come back. Your father fell off the scaffold. I asked her if it was serious? Mother said that several ribs were broken, the test report hasn't come out, and people are still in a coma... How can this be corrected? Then there was a cry from the other end of the receiver that my mother tried to suppress but couldn't help it. I said Mom, don't cry. I'll go back right away. After hanging up the phone, I booked air tickets, packed my bags and called for leave. It was noon the next day when I arrived at the hospital. My mother picked me up at the door of the hospital. She was extremely ill dressed. At first glance, she grabbed the clothes she went out, with dark circles under her eyes and dull eyes. When I saw my tears, she said that my father had broken four ribs and seriously stabbed her lungs, There is also a little effusion. He followed his mother into the ward and looked at his father lying in the hospital bed. Suddenly, he found that the selfish, stubborn and childish man was finally old. I knew my father had white hair. When I came closer, I was still surprised. They lurk in the dyed chestnut hair, not some, not a layer, but many, many. Mother came up and whispered: I laughed at your father when he dyed his hair. He was still smelly at such an old age... Later, I heard his old friend say that he dyed his hair so that he could stand next to me without looking old. You see, he is an old man with a lot of tricks. I was so flustered about the fact that my father was getting old that I wasn't ready at all. My father is old. What should I do? He won't be old. He has always been vigorous, vigorous, intelligent and good at drilling camp. Last year, he accompanied me to visit a teacher in the United States. Before that, he had never been abroad, but when I went to New York for the first time from New Jersey, he just led me to the school with a strong sense of direction. Under his protection, I have always been weak and avoided most of the problems that need to be borne in reality, because there is such a constant law in my consciousness: my father knows all the ways. But since when did I stop thinking like that? I think from the moment he fell from the scaffold, he began to become a child in need of love. I have to try to protect him. After he was discharged from hospital, his father's immunity was much worse than before, and his memory began to decline sharply. One day he accompanied me to the hospital to fill my teeth and said, when did my teeth become so bad? I said it started a few days ago. You accompanied me to the hospital. He was at a loss. I had to describe the scene in detail before he could piece together a very faint shadow. Oh, he said hesitantly, a little impressed. Yesterday, he and his mother had a quarrel over what kind of stuffing to make dumplings. I rushed home and saw the second old man with red eyes and thick neck. He was busy persuading: what can't I say well at such an old age? When my father saw me coming in, he ran to me like I ran behind him when I was chased and beaten by my mother when I was a child. He was sad and looked pitiful. He asked me for help and pretended to be innocent. I smiled and asked him why he quarreled. He opened his mouth and spit from his lips. I knew he was in a hurry to tell me something, but I couldn't remember what it was. Later, he spread his hand and said, ah, I forgot. The palm curled up innocently, and then blamed his memory. The look of guilt is sour. I quickly said it doesn't matter. No matter what it is, it must be the fault of my mother. Is it right? Shall we punish my mother for cooking for us at night? I have to go back to work after a few days. My father and mother helped me with my work early in the morning. An hour's walk to the airport, the three of us walked for more than two hours. My father said that my mother was slow. In fact, I found that he delayed the time and walked slowly in a gag. Zhu Ziqing wrote his father's "back" and "in the glittering and translucent tears, he saw the back of the fat, green cloth cotton robe and black cloth mandarin jacket", which has been quite sad. However, when his father saw his son's back, it may be more painful. Before leaving, I was waiting in the airport lobby and passed a KFC store. My father suddenly pulled my sleeve and looked eagerly at the chicken nuggets and hamburgers piled high on the shelves inside. I just thought my father wanted to eat, ordered two sets of packages with enough weight and put them in front of him. Half full, I looked up again and found that my father didn't eat anything. It took me a long time to remember that my father never ate foreign fast food. But I had to eat two set meals in a row. After getting on the plane, I remembered my father's strange behavior just now, and something seemed to whizz through the hall. I suddenly remembered that when the first KFC in the small town of my hometown opened, every day when I passed KFC at school, I had to hold my father's hand and stand at the door of the restaurant smelling the fragrance for a while. At that time, KFC became a recognized luxury for both of us. Only people with rich wealth and great power could eat it. My father promised me to do well in the exam a hundred times, and I went to eat there, but I didn't cash it once. Finally, one day, my father took a sum of money to pay for migrant workers and said that he would take me to have a taste of anything. My father's eyebrows twisted into a fried dough twist all over the way. I was so young and I didn't know my father's position. I chewed my hamburger with my mouth and chewed it up. Halfway through the meal, my father said that there were guests at home and asked me to play with my friends after dinner and go back later. Well, I stirred the mashed potatoes in my hand without looking up. That night, my father was blocked on his way home by the migrant worker and got a brick on his head. When he came home, he told his mother that he accidentally fell into the smelly ditch and knocked on the forehead. Dad, there are some things we have to admit. You're old. I seem to be getting old with you. I know some words are not easy for us to say. I love you! Dad.

In fact, it doesn't matter how successful you learn to boast about the meaning of struggle. In fact, you just want to make the people you love live better. There is a European antique telephone on the table in my living room. Next to it is a wedding photo of him and his mother. In the photo, he is unusually pursing his lips and wringing, looking very shy. His mother is taller than him, which is not a perfect match for outsiders. When taking this wedding photo, he kept his mother lower. When he took it, his mother was still half a head taller than him. When my father was young, he was very handsome, with sharp edges and corners. He was quite tall. Although he was not tall, fortunately, he had a fairly fresh face. In his heart, his father is an extroverted and competitive figure of pragmatism. At the age of 17 or 18, he is full of wandering the world - learning from teachers and skills, endless high-rise buildings, and a group of passionate young people like them, talking about entrepreneurship, ambition and the future. As a result, reality gave him a big ear scratch. His first job was to be a small worker in the logging yard, stepping on the earth and carrying wood and stones on his shoulders. During the day, the sun was hot, and at night, the hula wind blew the tent up and down. The master paid homage to him, but he only worked for his father and never taught craftsmanship. After years of work, my father left nothing but a stubborn disease. In this way, I stayed 25 years old and finally caught up with the tide of migrant workers entering the city. My father didn't want to make any money. Just learn a craft and make a living. At that time, the first-class small workers who usually worked much and hard on the construction site could give priority to working more hours and earn more work points in the evening. In order to earn more points, my father became a first-class worker. My father was not strong and couldn't carry it for a long time. He had to change his profession to do the decoration project with the relationship of several fellow villagers. Decoration is absolutely rare in that era when face tickets are used to buy noodles. My father has attracted some customers because of his skillful speculation. There are several small projects every year, and there is a surplus in his pocket. Anyway, he has a foothold in the city. The foreign villagers saw that their father had made money, and their eyes were red. They said they would work together with their father. They wanted to eat their father alive. One day, several villagers led their father to an old house in the old city. Without saying a word, they showed the guy. His father was stubborn and didn't follow their wishes. When he came back that night, half of his face was dripping with hot liquid, which frightened the three of us, but fortunately only hurt the skin. In the future, every time I see the crescent shaped scar between my father's eyebrows, I always feel out of breath. Last month, she received a phone call from her mother. She cried and said, son, come back. Your father fell off the scaffold. I asked her if it was serious? Mother said that several ribs were broken, the test report hasn't come out, and people are still in a coma... How can this be corrected? Then there was a cry from the other end of the receiver that my mother tried to suppress but couldn't help it. I said Mom, don't cry. I'll go back right away. After hanging up the phone, I booked air tickets, packed my bags and called for leave. It was noon the next day when I arrived at the hospital. My mother picked me up at the door of the hospital. She was extremely ill dressed. At first glance, she grabbed the clothes she went out, with dark circles under her eyes and dull eyes. When I saw my tears, she said that my father had broken four ribs and seriously stabbed her lungs, There is also a little effusion. He followed his mother into the ward and looked at his father lying in the hospital bed. Suddenly, he found that the selfish, stubborn and childish man was finally old. I knew my father had white hair. When I came closer, I was still surprised. They lurk in the dyed chestnut hair, not some, not a layer, but many, many. Mother came up and whispered: I laughed at your father when he dyed his hair. He was still smelly at such an old age... Later, I heard his old friend say that he dyed his hair so that he could stand next to me without looking old. You see, he is an old man with a lot of tricks. I was so flustered about the fact that my father was getting old that I wasn't ready at all. My father is old. What should I do? He won't be old. He has always been vigorous, vigorous, intelligent and good at drilling camp. Last year, he accompanied me to visit a teacher in the United States. Before that, he had never been abroad, but when I went to New York for the first time from New Jersey, he just led me to the school with a strong sense of direction. Under his protection, I have always been weak and avoided most of the problems that need to be borne in reality, because there is such a constant law in my consciousness: my father knows all the ways. But since when did I stop thinking like that? I think from the moment he fell from the scaffold, he began to become a child in need of love. I have to try to protect him. After he was discharged from hospital, his father's immunity was much worse than before, and his memory began to decline sharply. One day he accompanied me to the hospital to fill my teeth and said, when did my teeth become so bad? I said it started a few days ago. You accompanied me to the hospital. He was at a loss. I had to describe the scene in detail before he could piece together a very faint shadow. Oh, he said hesitantly, a little impressed. Yesterday, he and his mother had a quarrel over what kind of stuffing to make dumplings. I rushed home and saw the second old man with red eyes and thick neck. He was busy persuading: what can't I say well at such an old age? When my father saw me coming in, he ran to me like I ran behind him when I was chased and beaten by my mother when I was a child. He was sad and looked pitiful. He asked me for help and pretended to be innocent. I smiled and asked him why he quarreled. He opened his mouth and spit from his lips. I knew he was in a hurry to tell me something, but I couldn't remember what it was. Later, he spread his hand and said, ah, I forgot. The palm curled up innocently, and then blamed his memory. The look of guilt is sour. I quickly said it doesn't matter. No matter what it is, it must be the fault of my mother. Is it right? Shall we punish my mother for cooking for us at night? I have to go back to work after a few days. My father and mother helped me with my work early in the morning. An hour's walk to the airport, the three of us walked for more than two hours. My father said that my mother was slow. In fact, I found that he delayed the time and walked slowly in a gag. Zhu Ziqing wrote his father's "back" and "in the glittering and translucent tears, he saw the back of the fat, green cloth cotton robe and black cloth mandarin jacket", which has been quite sad. However, when his father saw his son's back, it may be more painful. Before leaving, I was waiting in the airport lobby and passed a KFC store. My father suddenly pulled my sleeve and looked eagerly at the chicken nuggets and hamburgers piled high on the shelves inside. I just thought my father wanted to eat, ordered two sets of packages with enough weight and put them in front of him. Half full, I looked up again and found that my father didn't eat anything. It took me a long time to remember that my father never ate foreign fast food. But I had to eat two set meals in a row. After getting on the plane, I remembered my father's strange behavior just now, and something seemed to whizz through the hall. I suddenly remembered that when the first KFC in the small town of my hometown opened, every day when I passed KFC at school, I had to hold my father's hand and stand at the door of the restaurant smelling the fragrance for a while. At that time, KFC became a recognized luxury for both of us. Only people with rich wealth and great power could eat it. My father promised me to do well in the exam a hundred times, and I went to eat there, but I didn't cash it once. Finally, one day, my father took a sum of money to pay for migrant workers and said that he would take me to have a taste of anything. My father's eyebrows twisted into a fried dough twist all over the way. I was so young and I didn't know my father's position. I chewed my hamburger with my mouth and chewed it up. Halfway through the meal, my father said that there were guests at home and asked me to play with my friends after dinner and go back later. Well, I stirred the mashed potatoes in my hand without looking up. That night, my father was blocked on his way home by the migrant worker and got a brick on his head. When he came home, he told his mother that he accidentally fell into the smelly ditch and knocked on the forehead. Dad, there are some things we have to admit. You're old. I seem to be getting old with you. I know some words are not easy for us to say. I love you! Dad.