Even if you are a Danqing master, it is difficult to outline your strong backbone, and it is difficult to outline your bloodshot and cloudy eyes; Even if you are a literary master, it is difficult to portray your indomitable spirit, and it is difficult to portray your selfless dedication and warmth; Even a superstar can hardly sing the praises of your silent care for me, and it is difficult to sing the warm love that you pass into my heart like flowing water. On the road of life, those eyes hidden behind my back have always grown with me, thank you from the bottom of my heart, my father.

—Epigraph

They all said that the first word I could spit out from babbling to muttering was "Dad"; They all said that the first man I ran to from crawling to toddler was my father; They all said that when I was a kid, I loved to ride on my father's shoulders and have fun. But now I am gradually estranged from him with the passing of the good times of my childhood, deliberately estranged.

Although I know that it was my parents who brought me into this world, it was my parents who welcomed the arrival of my new life with sweet tears and happy smiles, it was my father who shouldered the burden of the whole family to give me a good living environment, and it was my father who tolerated all my strengths and weaknesses with his broad mind and deep love. I knew he loved me, but I always had a contradictory and shallow hatred for him in my heart.

I have a very ordinary father, he is a cook, he has cooked countless exquisite and delicious meals, starting from 200 dishes a day, the number is in the tens of thousands, so many people are so dumbfounded that even I can't imagine the hardship of stir-frying for hours in a small kitchen full of smoke and fire. The skin on my father's face has always been dull yellow, and my face is so white that it seems that it has never been stained with a trace of dust, and my mother always laughed at him and said that he was like an old man picking up garbage, but he smiled disapprovingly and stroked my face with satisfaction and said: "I am destined to be a prince on a white horse in my life, but I want my daughter to become the noblest princess in the world." His calloused hand gently rubbed my face, very lightly, but it still scratched the skin on my face with a slight pain. Probably sensing something, he withdrew his hand and smiled apologetically at me.

My father

, he is not an endless sea, he is not as inclusive as the sea; My father, he is not an unattainable mountain, he is not a mountain that carries all things; My father, he is not a dazzling sun, he is not as radiant as the sun, shining on the earth. His love is like a dark and quiet night, which cannot be seen, touched, and deep. He hummed a little song for me with a deep voice, he tucked the corners of the quilt with his thick arms, and he shed tears for me with his weather-beaten eyes. He generously gave me a space of my own, let me stretch out my arms and breathe the free air to embrace the life I wanted, and gave me warmth when I needed it.

I am so grateful for everything he has done for me. If, if he hadn't insisted on divorcing his mother at that time, despite the opposition of his family, and despite my tearful pleading, he would have resolutely stepped into the palace of divorce with his mother, I don't think I would have mixed such a complex and heavy thing as hatred into my original strong love for him.

During the period of my parents' divorce, my father became a cold and distant statue in my mind, the wrinkles on his forehead and the white hair on his head became more and more dazzling and depressing, his eyes were gray as if it was raining without a trace of emotion, and the corners of his mouth drooped slightly with a coldness that rejected people thousands of miles away, as if he could resist all injuries with such a quiet face, and he became more and more silent. I turned a blind eye to this, and in retaliation, I threw his clothes aside every time I changed clothes, often squandered his pocket money on unrestrained purchases, wandered the Internet all night long, and slept in class during the day. He realized the change in me, and out of self-blame and guilt for me, he quit his job as a chef and began to take care of my daily diet.

But these remedies are far from replacing the harm of being a child of a single parent family. I turned a blind eye to what he was doing, and even more developed in the direction of the problem girl, and the time to go home was getting later and less, completely ignoring his anxious waiting and frequent phone calls, and still wandering between his classmates and Internet cafes as I always wanted, and proved with my own actions what an unforgivable mistake he had made in the first place. Because of my repeatedly

The teacher and the head teacher were helpless, so they had no choice but to call their father to the school. My father was silent for a long time after learning about my bad deeds at school, and finally smiled bitterly and said to the head teacher: "Teacher, give her another chance, my daughter is not bad." He bowed his head slightly, and his attitude was as sincere as a child who had made a mistake.

For this reason, the school deliberately gave me half a month of long vacation to go home and reflect. This is undoubtedly a great honor for me, who has just entered the first year of high school, and the holiday means that I can go out to play games, go shopping, and I can find the uneducated teenager on the street to quarrel and fight, but on the first day it was not as smooth as I imagined. It was another late night, and I unlocked the door and went into the living room, a little surprised that my father didn't lock the door. The house was eerily quiet, and my father sat at the dining table, where the food was clearly cold for a long time. Hearing the sound, he raised his gaze and shot at me, and I saw his eyes, which were supposed to be full of love and mysterious and deep, and they were full of anger at this time. A little inexplicable helplessness and desolation spread out of his eyes, overwhelming the world......

In an instant I felt guilty, and I walked up to him with my legs outstretched, and he stood up sharply and pushed the chair behind him, and raised his broad palm to hit me, and I closed my eyes in fear, and tears fell. With a "bang", the slap unexpectedly did not fall on my face, but on the table next to me.

In the past few days, he has always smoked, often leaning on the yellowed cement wall alone and staring into the distance, taking a deep puff of the cigarette in his hand from time to time, and then slowly exhaling it, the eye circles lingering in the air, enveloping his thin and dull face. Now I feel that it is an extremely lonely posture, it is an extremely sad picture.

He didn't beat me that night, but just called my mother with a trembling hand, and he told my mother in a hoarse voice that he was sorry for me, and that he was not able to teach me when I was going farther and farther, and that he would let me go and live with my mother for a while, and maybe a different environment would change.

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