Father, an eternal child

　　When I was fifty years old, my father left at the age of ninety.

　　Fifty years ago, he was nearly forty when he gave birth to me.

　　And when I gave birth to Lele four years ago, it was between forty and fifty.

　　I didn't feel middle-aged until I had children.

　　When my father left, he suddenly became old.

　　It took me forty years from birth to middle age.

　　From middle age to old age, it only took four years.

　　(Lele said the day before yesterday that she dreamed that she was crying.

　　Because he is afraid that his parents will leave him one day.

　　So I cried in my dream.

　　Just like he saw his father crying in front of his grandfather's spirit)

　　But I'm not afraid of getting old, even eager to get old.

　　Because my father is a lifelong child, so am I.

　　And aging can make us safe.

　　My father has always been a man who doesn't care if the lamp hurts, so have I.

　　I don't know how to translate this dialect word.

　　It probably means ugly, unattractive and thankless.

　　Even the lamp doesn't hurt you, and it doesn't give you a beautiful appearance

　　And we die where the lights can't shine.

　　There is a word "sheng" in my father's taboo.

　　It is a portrayal of his life temperament.

　　The father who "doesn't hurt" was born to raise it since he was a child, and he was endless.

　　After a family of six ate the last grain of rice.

　　He can still conjure up a meal.

　　I can barely call the cook.

　　He often said that the day when I was born was a snowy morning.

　　And he is tossing and turning in the cottage outside the mountain.

　　Carrying a heavy firewood

　　In exchange for a bag of living rice.

　　I remember the first light in HarmonyOS.

　　Is in the rainy season.

　　Watch my father play straw sandals and listen to him sing:

　　"The clouds are light and the wind is light, and the flowers are flowing with the willows in Qianchuan;

　　When people don't know Yu Xinle, they will call it taking time to learn from teenagers ... "

　　At that time, I was four or five years old, which was Lele's age now.

　　Although I don't know what he is singing.

　　But I feel the calm warmth of that tone.

　　My father loves land and books most in his life.

　　He can't leave the land, let alone the books.

　　City life made him suffer from insomnia and headache, and his appetite was greatly reduced.

　　And as soon as I set foot on my way home, I was in high spirits

　　In the last years of his life.

　　I often wander around my mother's grave and wander among weeds.

　　Read aloud, read the poems of the ancients and their own words

　　Let passers-by think this is a madman.

　　He likes to recite Tang poems, especially "Daibei Pulsatilla".

　　"Luoyang east plum blossom, flying who ...

　　..... Every year flowers are similar, and every year people are different ... "

　　I prefer Dongpo's "Ten Years of Life and Death,

　　Don't think, since unforgettable ... "

　　With the intonation he learned in a private school as a child.

　　Singing at mother's grave, "Moonlight Night, Short Matsuoka"

　　Those short pines are the trees he moved from Nanshan to Beishan.

　　Grow taller now.

　　He lies in Panasonic and reunites with his mother.

　　When I was a child, I often had a dream:

　　When I came home from school, the tofu mill was empty.

　　I went to the vegetable market to find my parents.

　　Sometimes they can't find it, sometimes they find it, and they don't care.

　　I can only watch them busy silently.

　　It's raining and the vegetable market is wet everywhere.

　　It's full of people and smells

　　And I crouched aside, feeling only happy and secure in my heart.

　　Making tofu is just a craft that my father is good at.

　　In addition, there are Beijing fruit, city cake and snow jujube.

　　He hates that the study of these skills delayed his childhood study.

　　I am also grateful that they saved a family's life on the verge of starvation.

　　At the end of the Cultural Revolution, when he heard the big horn playing.

　　The song "Hong Hushui, the waves beat the waves"

　　I feel that the sky is going to change.

　　So as soon as the policy was released, the dusty tools were taken out.

　　Pick up the skills you learned to make a living as a child.

　　When I was in primary school, I saw my father selling cakes at the school gate.

　　Feeling proud and shy

　　The bean curd shop has to be moved around because of its sponsor.

　　Make us become strangers wandering in our hometown land.

　　Sister said that our family seems to be different from others'.

　　I said yes, I felt it, too, but I thought it was good.

　　At that time, my primary school was far from home.

　　Going home from school in winter, it's getting late.

　　See the lights of the window from a distance and walk across the field.

　　Walking into the tofu mill, the warm firewood steam

　　Into the room full of gasified halo, gasified life

　　Until today, forever.