15 years old junior high school

When we were 15 years old, we moved into an unfamiliar neighborhood. I live farther away from the school, and I have to bring an access card to enter and exit, which makes me even more headache.

Every time I walked to the door, I would suddenly bend down and go straight under the railing. At this time, the security guard at the door would always show me the owner card as if I owed him eight million and didn't pay it back. I often casually said the number of the door and then walked away with a big grin in my disdain. I, like all teenagers with privileged lives, don't know what respect is.

One day, I forgot to bring my access card again, and he stopped me as usual. I couldn't help but scold and return the unhappiness that I usually accumulated. The security guard blushed and politely explained to me that this was the rule, I just felt that he was the kind of villain who had a little power and was about to run out, and two words popped out of his mouth - silly hat, and then walked straight in, with a kind of dark refreshment after defeating others.

One afternoon, I was awakened by a shrill invective downstairs. A middle-aged man was pointing at the security guard and scolding, his face hideous. The security guard sighed helplessly and looked around, sweating profusely in uniform under the scorching sun.

It turned out that he had to endure this abuse many times a day, and I was one of them.

I deliberately brought my access card that day and bought two cans of Coke for him at the supermarket at the door. He refused to accept it at first, but finally took the Coke and set it aside. Since then, the security guard has smiled at me every time he sees me.

During the Spring Festival, when it was raining, he stood alone by the small pavilion, sometimes looking up at the sky, sometimes looking into the distance. There was no computer or TV in the security booth, and he just stood bored every day.

This scene is frozen in my young memory.

I think he must have had his own parents, children, and lovers. It turns out that a person can stand so stoically through the hot summer and cold winter for the sake of his family.

Although he moved many times later, I could always see his shadow in different people.

17 years old high school

After graduating from junior high school, I left my parents and went to high school in an unfamiliar city.

There, I often had three meals and sometimes just solved the problem of food and clothing on the side of the road.

There is a stall that I frequent. I remember that the uncle who sold pancakes had a little boy who would come to his father's stall at 6 p.m. every day. Sometimes I write my homework on a plastic stool, sometimes I play with the small flowers and grass under the tree, and sometimes I sleep on the cardboard next to the trolley with a small schoolbag on my pillow when I am sleepy, without noise or noise.

One night I was passing down the street and found the pancake stall surrounded by three layers of people — a middle-aged man in a suit furious and yelling at the father of the little boy who had accidentally splashed the batter on him. The boy's father was embarrassed and apologized vigorously. I saw the little boy through the crowd, surrounded by the crowd, his eyes full of horror and helplessness, clinging to the corner of his father's clothes.

Later, the middle-aged man scolded and finally left.

After the crowd dispersed, his father sat silently on the stool alone - perhaps embarrassed in front of his son, perhaps sad and aggrieved. The boy's father touched the boy's head and said something like "it's okay".

I was going to buy an extra pancake by the way, but when I walked up, I saw the little boy climb on his father's lap and pat his back with his little hand. The little boy bit his mouth, trying to endure it, not letting his father see it, and kept wiping his eyes with his hands alternately.

At that moment, I was overwhelmed with sadness.

I think of my busy father, and we always rarely communicate. Even at the lowest point in his life, I didn't pat him on the back and say words of encouragement like that—it seemed awkward. When it comes to empathizing with my parents, I'm not even as good as a little boy.

After that, I started calling home when I had nothing to do, and I knew that when I grew up, my parents would be old.

22 years old in college

In my twenties, I returned to my home factory for an internship. I finally started listening to my dad, which made him somewhat relieved.

In the factory, I noticed the salesman Xiaohu. He has been in the factory for two years and is always very diligent. I used to go out with him on a business run, and he was always glad at from store to store with samples in both hands, and he just sweated and kept smiling politely.

It was an ordinary dinner, he was poured wine by customers from the northeast, and he was still pouring wine, pouring tea, handing tissues, calling waiters, opening wine, and forcing laughter for everyone. That night, he was drunk and drunk.

I sent him home and turned on the stereo, Leslie Cheung's "Heating", he listened to it and said that he didn't think it sounded good when he went to school, but after he came out to work, he thought it was very good. He turned his face and looked out the window. The light from the street lamps brushed his face one by one, and the cold moon hung in the sky, and I couldn't see his expression in the darkness.

He sang loudly with a red neck and a red face: You don't hide your lonely heart / Although the world is crueler than we imagined / I won't cover my lonely eyes / Just because I want to see your innocence / We can keep warm by hugging, we can survive by snuggling / Even in the world of ice and snow......

His voice trembled, hoarse, and suppressed, and then he buried his face in his hands and began to cry uncontrollably......

I didn't say anything, just sent him home. With red eyes, he turned on the faucet by the flower bed in the community, rubbed his face vigorously with water in both hands, then straightened his waist, wiped the water on his face with a tissue, coughed twice, took a deep breath, smiled at me, and asked, "Can you still see it?" "I said it was okay, I knew his wife was still waiting for him.

At this moment, I was both sad for him and moved by him. I think he's going to be back in that humble but warm place, his fragility won't be seen by his wife, and he's still a man who stands up to the sky.

Writer Liu Liangcheng once said: "We can't see all the snow that falls in a person's life." Everyone is in their own life, lonely for the winter. "Those strangers in life, if I can be like them, endure the wind, frost, rain and snow for the sake of my relatives, endure all the hardships and dangers of the world, and then still persevere, still be grateful, and still struggle, maybe that kind of man can be regarded as real growth and maturity.