My hero on earth, stay where you are.

I have always felt that there must be two heroes in my life. I firmly believe and wait for a hero who will drive colorful auspicious clouds to pick me up happily;

And another earth hero, you stand where you are, and I will come to you firmly and persistently, knowing that you have been waiting for me.

When I was a child, I always loved watching Altman's cartoon, especially watching Altman fight monsters. I am particularly excited, not because he is very powerful, but because I think he can fight monsters, so he can protect me.

Every time I go shopping with my father, I always pull my father's skirt and say, "I want this. He can protect me."

Father always gives that gentle smile and says, "Well, I'll give him to you. He can protect you. "

I still remember my radiant father. At that time, the years were also very gentle. At that time, my father lived happily and laughed happily.

Later, I fell in love with Doraemon again. When I saw Doraemon with Daxiong, I was always envious, not because he had that omnipotent pocket, but because he could accompany Daxiong. Then I said to my father, "I want Doraemon too, let him accompany me." Then my father smiled and said, "There will be such Doraemon with you in the future."

It's really strange that I'm so immature. I like everything because I'm given a special meaning.

However, no matter what questions I ask, my father can always give me a satisfactory answer and satisfy my wishes.

In this way, accompanied by my father, I grew up.

I used to look up at my father, but now I can look straight at my father;

In the past, my father's big hand always held my little hand, but now this memory is very old, and I am afraid that one day even this last memory will completely disappear;

I used to drag my father to ask 100 thousand why, but now I always dislike my father's verbosity;

I used to go home with my schoolbag after school every day, but now I go home several times a year.

Every time I go home, it seems that my father will have a different look. He seems to have lost weight, seems to be dark again, seems to have stopped laughing, and seems to have some white hair growing sturdily between his temples and his hair.

Now the years are also very gentle, which makes my father's forehead a lot more gullies. I know where the story of my growing up is hidden.

Now I no longer communicate with my father, and I am getting farther and farther away from my father. And my father is still busy with life every day, completely unaware of these changes.

The contradiction with my father sometimes breaks out in this kind of incomprehension, and I am stupid enough to want to slam the door and leave. My father chose silence, and then he was still busy with his life.

I remember when I was in high school, I went to school once and later found that I forgot to bring my Chinese book, so I called my father and asked him if he had time to send it. My father scolded me severely, saying that I didn't bring a book and had no memory, and then hung up the phone.

Yes, it's my father's style. I always don't know how to express his emotions and feelings. Sometimes what I say is harsh.

So I spent the whole morning with my father's prejudice and went out to eat with my classmates at noon, and I forgot about it long ago.

But when I walked to the school gate, I saw a figure anxiously dangling outside the school gate, looking inside, yes, that was my father.

Father is wearing overalls, his sneakers are covered with dust, his beard seems to have not been shaved for a long time, and his hair is messy. I guess my father came after work and didn't have time to change clothes. At that moment, I felt that my father was old, much older. I think I will never forget this photo.

So, my dad looked at me and said angrily, "Why didn't anyone answer your cell phone?" Then I took out my mobile phone, and the result was silence, showing the missed calls of ten dads.

After my father gave me this book, he left in a hurry Looking at his father's back, he finally stopped crying and wanted to catch up and say, "I'm sorry."

Just not good at expressing emotions and feelings, I can't say it all the time, so I watched my father go away until my back disappeared in the corner.

I'm afraid the father will never know that his daughter is crying behind her back, just as the daughter will never think that her father will send the book.

From home to school, I need to take a bus, and then I have to take a bus. In those years, the traffic was inconvenient and my father seldom went to town. I took my father there once when I was a freshman at school. I don't know how dad came this time, but I can think of the picture of dad asking people in the street.

Yes, this is my father, such a proud and proud person, but he always abandons everything for me.

His knife mouth is always a little hurtful. I know that many times my father doesn't know how to express it. My father can't speak sweet words. He always gives silently. His actions are his silent language.

I don't like to eat all kinds of vegetables with skins, so before eating, he always peels off the skin of fish and puts it in a bowl. He always peels off the chicken skin and puts it in my bowl.

I don't like fat meat, and he always cuts fat meat and lean meat separately when cooking, and then puts all the lean meat on it.

Whether it is the sensitivity of adolescence, the irritability of rebellious period, or the distance from my father now, these habits I have developed have never changed.

In fact, my father is a man of literature and art. Although he didn't go to school for several years, he painted well and wrote well. He likes listening to music. He has an old-fashioned radio at home and a tape in the drawer. He likes to pound bonsai and plant flowers and grass when he has nothing to do.

It's just that the burden of life takes up all my father's time, and those small bonsai in the yard have long since grown out of shape, and there are weeds everywhere.

When I moved last year, my father squatted there alone to sort out his dusty things, looked at those books, tapes and paintings for a long time, and then threw them all into the trash can. At that moment, I saw a faint sadness in my father's eyes.

Later, I secretly picked up everything my father threw from the trash can, dried the dust, put it in a box, and still put it in a corner of my room.

And I also told myself that one day, I would return what my father had thrown away and let him do what he wanted.

Now, my father is over 500 years old, as old as an old newspaper, and I have become a big girl, blooming like a flower.

It is said that the daughter was her father's little lover in his last life. Yes, my father spent most of his life in exchange for the youth of his little lover.

I also know that Altman will not protect me, but my father will, because he is the Altman in my heart;

No one is accompanying me like Doraemon, but my father has been accompanying me silently.

For so many years, I have enjoyed these silent loves, but I have never expressed them well.

My hero on earth, I will hold you in my arms in the future and just come with me!

My hero on earth, you can't express it, so let me express it!

My hero on earth, stay where you are!

My hero on earth, I'm coming to you now!