Write a short article about your father?

People often praise maternal love, but forget that there is another kind of fatherly love that has been neglected for a long time in the world.

When I was a child, I always thought that my father would not be old and that my father had infinite power. No matter how far his father is from home, he won't worry because he is his father. It was on that day that I suddenly felt that my father was old.

That day after school, my father waited for me at the school gate on an old electric car. It was very cold that day. As soon as I left school, my father waved to me: here he comes. But I talked and laughed with my classmates, as if I didn't see them at all. After saying goodbye to my classmates, I reluctantly walked to my father's car and whispered that I was not a child. Why do you pick me up every day? I am bored to death. After listening to my complaint, my father didn't say a word of blame, but smiled and said to me: get on the bus and sit down! I reluctantly agreed: I know.

Home and school are not far away. I sat in the back of the car and scratched my nails, complaining that my father rode too slowly. I looked up at my father's back with disdain, filled with anger. Until the moment I looked down, I suddenly looked up and found that my father's hair seemed to turn white. Then I looked at my father's back carefully, and suddenly I felt a sad feeling inexplicably. Father's weak figure silently bears everything at home alone. I suddenly feel as if something is pulling my deepest emotion, which hurts! At that moment, I was deeply aware of my mistake. I feel like a vampire, sucking up my father's hard work and youth. My father is willing to pay for all this. He is willing to give everything he has to his daughter who will only contradict her. Always give and never ask for anything in return.

In fact, too often, we only care about our looks, but forget our father's aging face. Too often, we only praise our youth, but ignore his lost youth!

Father, it is enough to have you in this life.

Ying Ge Stone, originally a barren hill near Longwangtang in Lushun, has been hand-carved, but it also shows a little primitive wildness, which is exactly what our father and son like. On the way, we were planning to build a road, and the yellow dust rolled up by the car covered the car a few meters ago. I think coming back next year will be very different. I came because I had dinner. Roasting whole sheep is good. After a few drinks for the leader, I went to the nearby mountain with my son alone.

This is a farm under construction. It is said that its background is the president of a bank, so investment, planning and momentum are still ok. Trails, flowers and stones, villas, etc. Without the narrow vision of the country people, their designs are avant-garde, primitive, wild and fashionable. It seems that money really works. I can see that it is a master's work.

The Great Sage is particularly interested in the workers' "harmony with cement", playing and doing with a spade, and he is very happy. Stone mills, trolleys, small houses and twigs are all his favorite toys.

By an abandoned pond, several newspaper tourists are aiming their guns at the broken branches and leaves in the pond. It turned out that they were catching birds for food. My son is disobedient and always plays noisily by the pond, but he drives away the birds. Photographers can't wait for the "prey", so they shoot directly at their son. Of course, a professional camera and a professional photographer are professional works. In the lens, the son's running form is very clear, natural and primitive. It was really nice, but I forgot to leave them an email. Well, maybe regret is the most perfect.

My son said he was tired and didn't sleep when he opened the room. Because it is a villa, the windows are not very high. He always runs from the window to the door and runs around in circles. Later, he asked me to chase him, so I didn't lie down and watch TV. "Give my life to accompany my son." I reminded him to be safe, not to touch or fall. I'm sorry I got hurt. Hit by a window frame, full of gold stars. I immediately got a big bag on my head and blood was visible. I was lying in bed in pain and happiness: God, my son almost killed me.

This is the end of the same play.

On my father's shoulders, there is still the residual heat of riding when we were young; Father's arm still holds the warmth of our childhood; Father's scolding often reappears in our adult dreams; Father's slap in the face is often mentioned in our memories; Oh! My father's teaching is always so painful and stinging, but it can also wash my mind and bone marrow; Father's encouragement is often rude and clumsy, but it can be considerate. Father's love is the sun hidden behind the moon's brilliance and the root of retrogressive underground plants. Hide yourself and achieve the glory and prosperity of the next generation. Just like a hard-working behind-the-scenes director and a gardener dedicated to the growth of Liang Dong, it is silent but hidden and hard to find.

Tasting and understanding fatherly love is a kind of courage, but also a kind of ability, which requires continuous communication, gratitude and sentiment from heart to heart. If maternal love is a warm floral fragrance that can be intuitively felt, then paternal love is a cup of strong tea that needs to be carefully tasted. Only when you have gained the ability to taste tea through the tempering of life and withstood the test of brewing juice and bitterness will you win the sweetness and sweetness swirling under the tip of your tongue. In fact, paternal love has always been perceived in a concise and revealing form. Without emotional pause and delicious food, people will miss it inadvertently, thus making many people unable to understand the greatness of fatherly love and its broad' true meaning' all their lives.

To understand my father, we need to relive the journey of our ancestors and feel the hardships of their lives; To understand father, we need to go back from the long river of history and sing the strong voice of life in the depths of history; We need to dig carefully in the history of China, which has been passed down for thousands of years, and learn from the past to the present, in order to appreciate the special warmth in the majesty of our fathers.

So, I read the Three Kingdoms and read my father. From the course of life, from root to stem, read the father's responsibility and temperament with your heart.

The perception of childhood is concrete, so the image of father becomes an entity injected with unparalleled energy. Therefore, the father in the eyes of childhood is the fan in Zhuge's hand and the black silk scarf on his head, the red rabbit flying under Liu Bei's leg and the swords and halberds in the hands of those heroes.

The teenager's feeling is uninhibited, so his father is defined as the heroic spirit of the battlefield. Therefore, the father in the eyes of young people became the murderer killed by Lu Bu in the Three British Wars. Zilong went forward bravely and killed the blood-stained dragon robe; Wing De on Changbanpo bravely retreated a thousand troops with a spear.

The sense of experience in middle age is stable. After impulsiveness, father became the embodiment of wisdom and force. Therefore, the father in the eyes of middle-aged people is a trick to burn Chibi, a wit to borrow an arrow from a straw boat, and the courage to play the piano in an empty city.

As for my father in my old age, I can't feel it personally in my middle age, but I think I will have the determination and competitive power to penetrate everything and see through the world until I wash away the glitz and prosperity of life and get rid of the inner irritability and noise. Hope is a golden tongue, which can defeat the rigidity and softness of millions of heroes; The ruler's inch tube is better than a thousand miles; It is the orthodox king who inherits eternal fraternity, cultivates self-cultivation, and manages the country to level the world.

"Father, maybe someone has long forgotten him. Behind his father, he is so hard, selfless and great! Father is a blue sky, and we thrive under his care; Father is a mountain, standing tall, and the storm rages against him without fear; Father is a ladder. He saved our lives and helped us sprint to the top.

I was born in an ordinary family. Ordinary is not very important to me, but he gave me a great father.

Dad is a man who runs around every day. Whether it is windy or rainy or in direct sunlight, he still insists on it every day. Father has a heavy task every day, and he has to move some bottles and cans every day. Such as: oxygen cylinders, liquefied gas, etc.

Going out early and returning late every day has become his daily routine. Father goes out at 8 o'clock every morning and can't see him until 9 o'clock in the evening. Clothes are clean when you go out, but they get dirty at night. I know dad's work is very hard today. He has done too much for me. Looking at my father's distant back, I couldn't help crying.

Father dragged his tired body, but he didn't forget to care about me. When I go home every week, my father will always say a few words and ask me about my study and life. When I come to school every week, my father always remembers to say, "study hard and don't take learning too lightly."

Father is the backbone of the family. In the face of all kinds of difficulties, my father never flinched, which inspired his fighting spirit. He works harder and is determined to do better than before!

It is my honor to be born in this family. He gave me a great and selfless father! I want to thank him for everything he has done to me. Father, I love you!

Time flies, and the vicissitudes of time slowly slip away from your fingertips. Time has taken away many unchangeable realities, but it can't take away the scenes of affection left in your memory. Thanks to my father's upbringing, I haven't had time to honor my father, but he has silently left us forever.

I get along with my father bit by bit, often always lingering in my mind. I remember the summer when I was twelve years old, my father took me to the mountains to collect firewood. At that time, cooking was to go to the mountains to collect firewood and come back to make a fire. It takes a long way to get firewood. You have to go through a village called Taiyangwa, and then climb several mountains to get to the forest. In search of dry wood, my father took me over one mountain after another.

When I reached the place where more firewood was found in the forest, my father untied the rope hanging around his waist and was busy chopping wood with an axe. Father trimmed all the branches he had cut down, as if trimming their hair, and the shiny axe was as obedient as his father's hand. Father lifted his skirt from time to time to wipe the sweat from his forehead and put the chopped firewood together neatly. When I first came to the forest, I was excited to pick ripe strawberries and wild fruits everywhere to eat. My father will constantly remind me which wild fruits can and cannot be eaten. The ground of the forest is covered with a thick layer of dead leaves, and the newly grown long and dense grass is as soft and comfortable as stepping on a new quilt. Those birch trees, like a gazebo, blocked the sun, and the sun shone on the birch trees through the cracks. Where the birch tree is more than a foot above the ground, the branches are covered with clusters of white mushrooms, which bloom quietly in the breeze like handfuls of small umbrellas. Red strawberries, purple bowl flowers, red peony flowers, white peony flowers, pink table flowers and baby dog flowers are dotted with green grass, and those native wild flowers are charming and fragrant in the breeze. From a distance, they look like wearing a colorful dress on the grass. I danced happily in the gorgeous embrace of nature, eating wild fruits and picking wild flowers, listening to all kinds of birds chirping and flying overhead. That kind of happiness and happiness will never be forgotten. Times change, years flow, and those familiar thoughts are like branches of birch trees, dense and lush.

My father tied a small bundle of firewood for me first and said, go slowly first, and I will catch up with you later. I walked on with firewood on my back until I came to a fork in the road and went to another road. I climbed a mountain with firewood on my back. I feel something is wrong when I walk. There is no road on the mountain, and firewood is everywhere. It was getting steeper and steeper, and I realized that I was lost. I stood halfway up the mountain, and a kind of fear hung over me. I was so anxious that I cried and didn't know what to do. At this moment, I heard my father shouting my name at the foot of the mountain. I was pleasantly surprised to answer. My father climbed the mountain and found me. Seeing my father, I cried and swooped down, hugging my father's thigh tightly, for fear of being thrown away as soon as I let go. My father bent down and wiped my tears with his thick hands and said, I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid, I have a father. Holding my father, at that moment, I felt that my father was like a mountain, so high and so safe. He is my life's support and shelter. Let time fall gently at your fingertips, and let those who are touched ride the rhyme of the years and follow the wind to my future life.

Along the way, my father and I stopped and went. I looked up curiously and asked, Dad, how do you know I didn't get lost in front? My father smiled lovingly and said, "When I walked forward, the birds on the roadside flew around in fear and waited for a while. I know no one passed by. If you had walked ahead, the birds would have flown away. " . I'll come back for you. I really admire my father. If he hadn't come back to me with experience, I'm afraid I would have been left in the mountains. I often think about it, and I feel both scared and funny. These memories are so deep and moving that I thank my father for giving me a sense of security in my life. Memories of the past, like an old cotton cloth, are full of sunshine after time's rubbing. Once you recall it, you will feel warm.

As soon as the floodgate of memory is opened, many past events will immediately flood my mind. I spent most of my time with my father at work. I still remember that my father taught me and my sister how to cut wheat, how to catch it, how to cut it flat with a sickle, and how to bind wheat hand in hand. When I learn to bundle wheat, my father always praises me for tying it tightly and well. At that time, my brother had already worked, and my younger brother and sister were still young. Only my sister and I often follow my father to do farm work in the fields. In Xihaigu, most of the land is on the hillside, and the mountain road is very narrow, so you can only pass a small shelf car. Every time we pull a shelf full of wheat from the mountain, the road is steep and slippery. If we are not careful, the car will turn over the ravine. Usually, I stand at the rear of the car with my hands on the rope, and my father and sister are holding the shaft in front and sliding down slowly. We were all panting with nervousness, and that kind of adventure and hardship is still unforgettable. And every time we slowly pull the car to the foot of the mountain, we can take a long breath and sit on the ground for a while. We can always see that my father's forehead is covered with sweat, and the old cloth shirt on his back is wet and stuck to his back. At that moment, my young heart will always have a gratitude and admiration for my father.

Time slipped away quietly, and wrinkles slowly covered my father's forehead. My father was unconsciously blown with silver hair by the years, and my father wore reading glasses, and his teeth had fallen out by half. I watched my father grow old, but I didn't do more for him. It is difficult to see him once a year, and I always feel guilty when I think about it.

Time can easily throw people away. Life is good now, but my father has quietly left. Time, can it wait? If so, I will take my father to travel where he wants to go. If I can, I will spend more time with my father, help him walk on the tree-lined path covered by sunset, and listen to his childhood stories; If I can, I want to listen to my father's severe criticism and loving nagging and persuasion; If I can, I will ask my father to take more exercise and take good care of his health. However, it's too late, and time is no longer going back, leaving only a series of sour and beautiful memories.

The scene where my father and I were together always made me unforgettable in my life. The thoughts of my father are also entangled in the depths of my soul like vines, touching time, and the thoughts fall on my heart like rain. These memories will always inspire me to face difficulties and life in the sun.

My father is old because he is eighty-six years old and he doesn't have much hair. Haircuts are also rare. My father's hair is all white, even his beard and eyebrows are white, and his face is covered with age spots, so he can't find the vitality of that year.

In my memory, my father worked hard all his life. He doesn't have any skills, so he can only saw boards. In fact, this is not a very popular skill, but my father makes this skill not superb. When I was a child, my father would say that he saw the board third. It is estimated that few people dare to say that he is the first or the second. This is how my father supports his seven children.

My father was a worker in a steel factory when he was young. But in 5960, due to many children and natural disasters, he gave up his job in the city and returned to the countryside with his family. However, when he came back, there was no place for him. Because grandpa left nothing in his hometown, he could only stay in the village, and it was not easy for a family of nine to borrow a house. Because farmers in rural areas generally have no spare houses, they can only stay in the east or west.

My father is very hardworking, because he has to support our seven brothers and sisters, so he needs to go out to dry the net and fish every day besides his normal work. My father is so good at fishing that he can hear the fish in the river almost empty-handed. Because I often went fishing with my father when I was a child, sometimes my father would listen carefully to the sound of the river and know if there were any fish.

Father's life is a life of labor, because he has no chance to rest. When my father was in his forties, my brother was only a few years old. In fact, his mother gave birth to nine children in her life, two of whom died at an early age, and the other seven children were brought up by his father. In addition, children need a lot of money to study and have no house to live in, so his father works much more hours than other men in the village.

Father is really old, and there is no footsteps in the past when he walks. Perhaps the footsteps are subtle, and the original tall and straight figure is not tall and straight. The face that was full of vitality was not angry at all. Perhaps what is rare is vitality, because my father is eighty-five. My father is really old. I don't know how much time my father has, but as sons, we can only try our best to be filial.

My father is an honest and honest rural man, honest and frank, and he had a bad temper when he was young.

My mother once said that when she first got married, she joked with her father. Eating, my father suddenly stood up, threw the bowl and rice on the ground, turned around and left. Embarrassed my mother. My father is stubborn. He is uncompromising. Right is right, wrong is wrong, there is no such thing as echo. Even now that I am old, I still sell my own vegetables. If anyone is picky and importune, my dad will stare and drag the food into the basket and push it away. I won't sell it for a penny. When my father was young, he was not bad-looking, with heavy eyebrows. Now he is definitely a handsome boy. Father is handy, carpenters and masons can come to anything, make small tables and benches at home, and make some farm tools. He has been making wooden cars for nearly forty years. He has been riding with our four brothers and sisters, many children in the village and a pair of my children. Until now, he is still in a stable position. The wooden cart and gun he made for his son are so cute. He also plays the erhu well and writes calligraphy well, which is simply versatile.

I have been afraid of my father since I can remember, but I also love him very much. The four children at home need money to go to school, eat and drink Lazar, which is a heavy burden. Father always seems to be very busy, working all day with a long face, and seldom seeing him smile at us. Sister studied very well, and the awards she brought back were plastered all over the wall. Second sister is eccentric and good at reading. With four children studying, life is always tense. I often think that if I don't study, if I can make money, my father will be much more relaxed. ...

But my father never seems to complain. He has always said that as long as you can study hard and leave yourself a future, dad will die! My family was so poor at that time. Until I went to junior high school, my family still didn't have enough to eat. My brother and sister often bring tortillas to school. Sometimes when I am too tired during the day, my father gets up in the middle of the night and goes into the kitchen to bake cakes and steam steamed buns. Let's get up in the morning and eat steamed buns. I also know that dad gets up quietly. Sometimes I can't help but follow him to the kitchen door and watch my father doze off while kneading dough and pancakes. My heart is sour and uncomfortable. The back of my father's late-night pancakes has been engraved in my mind for many years, and I can't forget it.

I forgot how old I was that year. I still remember that it was August 15, and it was still a little sultry. My family is sitting on the mat in the yard, and my father is still working on the construction site in Xi 'an. Other children have either moon cakes or apples. Our brothers and sisters have nothing, and no one wants to go out and make people laugh. Mom has been saying since morning that your father will be back soon and will bring a lot of delicious food when he comes back! But wait and wait, from day to night, there is still no sign of my father. The moon rises slowly on the 15th, and there is no hope. We all sleep on our stomachs with our mouths pressed. I was in a daze when I heard a voice. It turned out that dad really came back, and we were all excited. Father was carrying a big bulging bag, so he untied it and fell on the table. Ah! What a big marshal yellow apple! It's rolling everywhere! And moon cakes. Father opened a small bag and said it was clothes, so that his brother and sister could choose for themselves. I don't remember what my sister and brother chose, except that my second sister and I each have a pair of sports shorts. I asked for pure white, and the second sister took the red one, which looked better than the test. I am skinny, long and straight, and my parents always praise me. After a while, everyone was sleepy and wanted to sleep. Neither my brother nor I slept. A man ran to the village with a big apple and a moon cake to show off before coming back to sleep contentedly.

For so many years, I haven't eaten an apple as big as Marshal Huang. Sometimes I dream about August 15th of that year. The moon is round and big, and the moonlight is like water. I held the apple high for others to see. I said, have you ever seen such a big apple? My father brought this back from Xi 'an!

After our brother and sister got married, my father was obviously old, his hair was gray, and the wrinkles on his forehead were deeply engraved like knives. Mom said, you old man, you don't know anything about cleaning up. See where you go! Who likes to see you! Father grabbed his neck and said, I am like this, who loves to watch it! Let's just say that every time I go out or come to see me, I automatically change my clothes and tidy up, leaving my mother to make fun of me. Once I went back to my mother's house, I happened to meet my parents who wanted to argue with me. When they saw me coming in, they both argued with me. I looked at my parents and said with a straight face, what's the matter? You two have been arguing all your life, and you are not tired! Mom glared at dad and said, this stubborn old man can blow his beard and stare! You lose your temper when you say it! My father looked at my mother, then at me, and suddenly smiled, yo! Whose old lady is unhappy? Look at that mouth, it's as flat as a bean! Mom is so happy! A small war suddenly vanished.

To tell the truth, my father is much gentler when he is old than when he was young. He often laughs and makes his mother happy.

Once I went to see them, and before I got to the door, I saw my father pushing a bicycle from the opposite side, with a red plastic bag hanging on it. When he approached me and asked him why he was going, my father curled his mouth and whispered mysteriously that your mother had a cold. She said she was ill and no one came to visit her. What a grievance! No, I bought some delicious food quietly and went to see her! After that, he winked at me and pushed the cart into the house, leaving me alone in a daze. I really want to wipe my eyes and see if that's my father. They quarreled all their lives, but they still hit it off when they were old. Mom said that dad went out to sell vegetables, and she was very anxious at home alone. Occasionally, it was a pleasure to bicker! She was hospitalized in the city a while ago. In the hospital, she has been thinking about her father's goodness and boasting about how capable he is all day. The old ladies in the same ward were unconvinced and deliberately said, is your old man really that good? Call and let's see! Mother cocked her head and said, why should I let the old man come? I'm afraid he's coming. You all have a crush on him! Everyone laughed, and then dad went to pick up mom. Many pairs of eyes stared at him and looked up and down with envy, which made my father very uncomfortable!

I smiled, and I was really happy. Our children are not around, and nothing is more gratifying than that they live in harmony and take care of each other.

As I grow older, I feel more and more guilty about my father. Because for so many years, except for the Spring Festival, most people can go home to accompany the elderly for a few days. Even when the old man is sick and uncomfortable, I never know, let alone buy some gifts to see the old man on holidays. Although every time my father calls, he says that there is nothing at home, you can work hard and take care of your small family without worrying about things in your hometown all the time. Actually, I know my father is comforting me. The purpose is not to distract me so that I can concentrate on my work. I know my father's good intentions, but I can't be filial to the elderly, which is also the pain that has been tormenting me.

In fact, my father knows that I am emotionally biased towards my mother because she is not easy. She raised our three brothers and endured many unbearable pains. So no matter what I do, my father not only accepts it calmly, but also thinks more about me, which also aggravates my inner guilt.

I clearly remember that when I was a child, I always compared my father to the Populus tomentosa at the edge of the village. The trunk is thick, the branches and leaves are lush, and the breeze under the tree is refreshing and cool. It was my father who propped up a shade with his powerful big hand, which reduced the suffering of the scorching sun and bright light. When I grew up, my father let me choose to join the army, fight in the barracks and get rid of the poor and backward hometown land. From then on, I left my hometown and my parents who loved me deeply. Going back to my hometown to reunite with my parents every year has become my grateful wish.

Time is like water, and the annual rings fly by. Many years have passed since the days of gathering less and leaving more, and my father has gradually changed from a straight poplar tree to a locust tree full of vicissitudes. The traces of time have covered my father's face. My father, who used to walk like the wind, became an old man who faltered. Every time I go home, I see my father dragging that inflexible sick leg and stubbornly crawling on the land he loves, and a bitterness will collide with my heart.

In fact, I know that my 70-year-old father not only doesn't want to burden us, but also loves to sow hope. Seeing your big hand, the big hand that once propped up a shade for us was covered with thick calluses. The once straight back was bent by relentless wind and rain. The sickle in his hand formed a thick frost in my heart. I was sad and helpless, so I could only persuade my father to do as little heavy work as possible in caring language, but every time my father smiled and said, I can do it, which shows that I am physically hard. Moreover, the children in the third family are still young and have a lot of expenses. As long as the body allows, it is also an honor to work for another ten years. I am surprised that my father has such a strong heart. He will be over eighty in ten years, but if he can still work like that in his eighties, it will definitely be a kind of happiness for us.

I have prayed countless times for my father to grow old slowly. If you get older, you can enjoy this wonderful life more; If we get older, we will have more time to show our respect. I deeply remember the truth that "children should be raised but not left with their loved ones", and I know very well that parents should do their best and be filial in their later years so that parents can feel the happiness and happiness of their children and grandchildren.

Although my father is now like the sunset, I can still see his touching brilliance. I really don't want to compare my father's light to the sunset glow, because I think it is the light of the rising sun, which is an attitude of pursuing a better life and a spirit of not giving in to the aura. I pray that my father can always emit that kind of happiness, because only the light emitted by my parents' health and longevity is the happiest light in the whole day.