Father's parents died early, so there is no culture, married earlier, gave birth to me also earlier. I heard my mother say that my father was a vigorous young man when he first got together with my mother. Day by day, carefree, life is very elegant and comfortable. At that time, my father's face was white and clean, with no trace of wrinkles. This kind of appearance has continued until I came to the world ......
Just at the moment of my birth, my father seemed to immediately from a free and easy-going teenager into a middle-aged man with the burden of responsibility. My father took my mother and me out of town in order for me to go to school in the future, and he worked hard to earn money by going out early in the morning and coming home late at night. In this way, my father worked alone to support our entire family. I heard my mother say that it was at that time that the shadow of wrinkles gradually appeared on my father's face.
Later, I began to remember. At that time, I often did some wrong things, such as lazy character, or do things sloppy. My father was very strict with me, and he couldn't tolerate a single mistake in his eyes for me as a young child. I remember one time, I played in the neighbor's house, found his home on the table with a ledger, in fact, I did not know then ledger, also do not know what the concept of ledger. I turned over the book, which wrote some things I can not understand, only know that most of the paper is white, I thought it was a picture of the book, it will quietly steal it home. Then my father found out, and I know that he was particularly angry in the face of my theft. He frowned, and the wrinkles on his forehead became clearly visible. Then my father hit me with his anger, and I had to look at the wrinkles on my father's forehead while crying and saying, "I won't dare to do it again. It was from that time that I began to be afraid of seeing my father's wrinkles because I was afraid that he would finish hitting and scolding me. However, whenever I made a mistake, he would still educate me in this way. Day after day, the hatred for my father in my heart became deeper and deeper, and I began to hate him and loathe him, and I even hoped that I would never see the wrinkles on his forehead again, which was the root of my hatred for him.
In this way, I have been living under the fear of my father's wrinkles. Under the pressure of the wrinkles, I gradually changed so many bad habits and wrong behaviors in me. Under the pressure of the wrinkles, I studied hard and got top grades in my class. I think it was in the fourth grade when I was ranked first in my grade for my final grade. My father came to school to get my report card and also asked my homeroom teacher about my performance in school. In front of my father, the homeroom teacher praised me strongly. Naturally, my father was very happy about my grades and the homeroom teacher's praise, and I saw a long-lost smile on his wrinkled face as he praised me. At that time, my father had some wrinkles on his face, whether he was happy or angry. When I saw the wrinkles on top of that smile, I was overwhelmed for a moment. I knew at that time my father would not hit me or scold me, but I still did not dare to get close, because the fear of those wrinkles seemed to have become an acquired behavioral reflex. In elementary school, that's how nonchalant I was in front of my father; I did whatever he told me to do, and I did nothing if he didn't. I was hardly ever close to my father and he never brought it up.
In the blink of an eye, I transferred back to my hometown from the field and became a junior high school student. Growing up and understanding, I was no longer as rude to my father as when I was a child. I learned to talk to my father, to communicate with him, to be close to him. We were no longer strangers as before, and we had a good time and were happy. I know how to take care of my father, care for him and honor him. However, my father's face was already wrinkled, where was the vigor that my mother said he had when he got married. My father is already middle-aged, and whenever I make a mistake, my father no longer hits me or scolds me. He would communicate with me, knowing that I really know what is right.
Just last week, my father had gone out to work overseas. He works tirelessly to earn money to support our family, and my eyes get wet whenever I think of my wrinkled father working out of town and having trouble getting home.
"Xiao Lei ah! Are you still afraid of me now?" My father said on the phone last week before he left.
"No!" I replied firmly.
"You've grown up na!" My father's kind voice caressed my eardrums, "I'm going away to work, so you'll be the only man in the family from now on!"
"I'll take care of my mom and sister!" My tears had fallen.
"That's good!"
"Dad!"
"What's wrong?"
I wiped my tears, paused, and said, "Dad, come home early!"
In that moment, my father didn't speak, and there was more than a little peace between them.
"Good!"
My father was an ordinary father, and I was an ordinary child, and my father loved me like every ordinary father loves their ordinary children. There are not many touching deeds between us, nor any tearful and tragic reality. But one thing is true: I love my father, and my father loves me.
My father is still in the field, but he will come back one day, and when he comes back, I will also be good filial piety to him, smoothing out his father's wrinkles, so that his heart is moisturized by filial piety.