~~~Snow White and Rose Red~~~
Thema drucken
07.10.2019 02:55
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When I got home, it was empty. I turned on the lights and saw the food on the table and the father��s note Cigarettes For Sale. It seemed that the tiredness of the day disappeared without a trace under this note. The note confessed to his mother. Going. Although the amount of food on the table is not much, the vegetarian food is very well matched. It is the father of the father's craftsmanship. You have worked hard for my growth! After dinner, I sat quietly in the hall, looking at the big home, I was deeply attracted by the photos next to the TV Cheap Cigarettes, those photos described my growth, my eyes did not know when from me The body turned to the father's body, and I found that my father had different eyes in every photo. When I was born, my father��s eyes were full of joy; when I was wrongly photographed by my mother Marlboro Red, my father��s eyes were filled with disappointment and self-blame; when I lost, my father��s eyes were left with confusion, I don��t know how it is good. That photo is the mother said to her father: When you grow up, your relationship with your daughter must be worse than that of me, I secretly photographed... The father��s meditation on what the father is, don��t worry, because after hours The reason why my father is not around, I cherish the time with him. We often leave the mother and two people running out for a walk, stepping on the melody of the leaves "sand", squatting on the skirt of the wind, the moon is on our shoulders, illuminating the familiar path, and sketching two long The shadow. My father and I are more like good friends who have nothing to say. I tell my ideals and share with him the joy of success and the pain of failure. My father only gave me a look, but I could read its mystery. When my father��s eyes lost that hope, I knew that he had to quarrel with others. When his eyes were dim, I knew that he was I want to call me home. I walked to the window. The night is already very strong, and a few fireflies are swaying in the wind. The thousands of round-trip paths have been faintly visible, and the echoes that come with every step are less than one-third of the father��s. Up to now, he is in his chin position. I remember that I will be fourteen years old in a few days, and my father is already 40 years old. Father said that he is really old. I thought of that day, I accidentally saw the trace of the old in my father's eyes, no longer as if I had a god. I realized that it was all coming quickly. Just like yesterday's moon turned into the morning sun, silent. Looking at my father's day, I grew up day by day under his care, and my heart was sour. I felt that I stole my father's hopeful eyes and stole his life, but he never did it for him. After some, although my father said that my birth has brought him and the family a lot of joy, I am still full of guilt. Like being blown into the sand by the wind, there is a kind of dampness in my eyes. I hope that my father will come back soon. I want to see his eyes that are happy or sad to me. I don��t want him to come back, I don��t want it. I saw his old eyes for me, and as I grew older, my father��s diaphragm grew stronger. Although I still like to walk with him, I can��t read his eyes anymore. I saw it. There are only a few countless old ones I can't remember that impressed me the most, but I know that there are always three words in his eyes: he loves me. Just like I love him. |
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