We cannot see all the snow that falls in our life

We cannot see all the snow that falls in our lives

15 years old, junior high school

A security guard is a security guard. Nothing can better describe my mood at that time. When we were 15 years old, we moved into a strange community. Compared to living far away from the school, having to carry an access card when entering or exiting was even more of a headache for me.

Every time I walked to the door, I would suddenly bend down and crawl under it. However, at this time, one of the people I hated most would suddenly appear in front of me in seconds - the security guard at the door. He asked me to show my owner's card as if I owed him 8 million and still hadn't paid back. Something that was originally innocuous turned out to be inexplicably annoying to me. I often casually say the house number, and then leave with a look of disdain.

I am spoiled, arrogant and ignorant. Like all teenagers who live a privileged life, I do not know what respect is.

One day, I forgot to bring my key card, and he stopped me as usual. I couldn't help but curse and return all the unhappiness I had accumulated in my daily life. The security guard suppressed his blush and politely explained to me that this was a rule. He chattered a lot of truths. When I looked at him, I just thought he was the kind of villain who would use up all his little power. I looked at him who was sweating profusely, and only two words came out of my mouth - silly. I gave him a look of disdain and then walked straight in. This time, he stood motionless. There is a secret feeling in my heart after defeating others.

The more you don’t want something to happen, the more likely it will happen - I think he was standing there to prove Murphy’s Law. The more worried he was about the owners not bringing the key card, the more people didn't care about the key card.

One afternoon, the sharp curses downstairs woke me up from my nap. When I looked down, I saw a middle-aged man pointing at the security guard and cursing him. He looked ferocious and had no quality at all. . I saw the security guard sighing helplessly and looking around, his eyes full of grievance and helplessness. Standing under the scorching sun, in the hot summer without a breath of wind, wearing uniform, sweating profusely. Standing in the summer when blowing the air conditioner is not enough to relieve boredom. It turns out that he has to endure such abuse many times a day, and I am one of them. I felt unspeakable guilt in my heart, and the raw uneasiness made me go downstairs involuntarily.

I specially brought my key card that day and bought two cans of Coke at the supermarket at the door. When I walked in, I pretended to be nonchalant and said, I'm sorry that day. The security guard scratched his head and smiled, looking a little flattered. I offered him the Coke, but he refused to accept it at first, then took it and put it aside. Since then, that security guard smiled at me every time he saw me.

After that, the bustling Spring Festival came. I stood on the balcony posting couplets and found that the security uncle was still standing guard. Because of the incident of setting off firecrackers in the community, he was scolded again after trying to persuade the owner. It was very cold in winter and it was raining that day. He stood alone by the small pavilion, sometimes looking up at the sky, sometimes staring into the distance. There was no computer or TV at the security desk, so he just stood there bored every day.

I frowned. The security guard that day was fixed in my young memory at that time.

I think he must have his own parents, children, and lovers. I discovered that as long as a person is for his family, he can persevere through hot summers and cold winters one after another.

From that year on, I had the habit of carrying my key card with me. Even though I moved many times, I could always see his shadow in different people.

17 years old, high school

After graduating from junior high school, I left my parents. I started high school in a strange city.

There, I often had irregular meals. Sometimes I just meet my food and clothing needs casually on the roadside - there is a Shandong pancake stall that I often visit.

I remember that the uncle who sold pancakes had a little boy. He would go to his father's cart on time at six o'clock every afternoon. Sometimes I do my homework on a plastic stool.

Sometimes I play with the flowers and grass under the tree, and sometimes when I feel sleepy, I sleep on a piece of cardboard next to the trolley with my little school bag on my head.

Such hard days made this little boy who should still be playing carefree in kindergarten mature early and not make any noise.

One night I passed by that street and found that the pancake stall was surrounded by three layers inside and three layers outside. A middle-aged man in a suit was furious, pointing and accidentally spilled the batter. The little boy's dad cursed him. The little boy's father was very embarrassed and apologized profusely, his face full of helplessness and grievance. I saw the little boy through the crowd. He was surrounded by the crowd. His eyes were full of fear and helplessness. He was holding on to the hem of his father's clothes tightly.

Later, the middle-aged man felt comfortable with the scolding and finally left.

After everyone left, his father sat silently on the stool alone. Maybe it was because I felt embarrassed in front of my son, or maybe I was sad and aggrieved. The little boy's father stroked the little boy's head and probably said something okay.

I originally wanted to buy an extra pancake, but when I walked forward, I saw the little boy crawling onto his father's lap. He patted his father's back with his little hands. Suddenly, the little boy's eyes started to shed tears one by one. The little boy bit his mouth, perhaps trying hard to hold back and prevent his father from noticing, while he kept wiping his eyes alternately with his hands.

At that moment, I was overwhelmed by sadness. The little boy's depressed mouth and eyes filled with tears of fear were like a fist hitting my heart.

I think of my busy father and how little we communicate. Even when he was at the lowest point in his life, I had never patted him on the back or said words of encouragement like this - it seemed very awkward. We always talk intermittently and don't even meet each other. When it comes to caring for my parents, I'm not even as good as a little boy.

When I went back that day, I couldn’t sleep. From then on, I started calling home when I had nothing to do. I knew that when I grew up, my parents would be old.

22 years old, university

When I was in my 20s, I returned to my family’s factory for an internship. I finally started to listen to my dad, which somewhat gratified him.

In the factory, I noticed the salesman Xiao Hu. He has been here for two years and is always very diligent. Once, I was bored and went out with him to run business. He was holding samples in his hands, and received repeated looks from store to store, but he was just sweating profusely and smiling politely.

At the dinner party, while they were drinking each other, he was kept being poured wine by customers from the Northeast. What he did most was pouring wine, pouring tea, passing tissues, calling waiters, opening wine bottles, and more. There is a forced smile. There was no doubt that he was completely drunk because of his excessive drinking.

I sent him home. The car was silent except for the sound of breathing. I turned on the stereo - Leslie Cheung's "Heating". He listened, talked to himself, and talked about the song intermittently. He said that he didn't think it was bad when he was in school, but after he came out to work, he felt that it was pretty good.

He turned his face and looked out the window. The light cast by the street lamp brushed his face one by one. There was a cold moon hanging in the sky. I couldn't see his expression in the darkness.

With his red neck and red face, he sang loudly along with the stereo: Don’t hide your lonely heart/Although the world is crueler than we imagined/I will not cover my lonely eyes/Just because I want to see your innocence/ We can stay warm by hugging/We can survive by cuddling/Even in the world of ice and snow...

His voice was trembling, but hoarse and suppressed.

He said, open the window.

As soon as I opened the window, the wind roared in fiercely, but what caught me most off guard was not the sound of the wind, but his cry.

He cried heartbrokenly, absolutely. He buried his face in his hands, tears overflowing from his hands...

After an unknown amount of time, when he almost arrived home, he was tired of crying and could only sob. With red eyes, he rubbed his face vigorously at the faucet beside the flower bed in the community, then raised his head and asked me, can you still tell? I say a little bit. I know his wife is still waiting for him.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind, straightened his waist, pulled off his clothes, wiped the water on his face with a tissue, coughed twice, and then took a deep breath. , puffed up his chest, smiled at me, and went up the stairs with his bag.

His tired footsteps disappeared into the night.

The old building in front of me is so old that it doesn’t even have a light. I think he will soon return to that simple but warm place. His fragility will not be seen by his wife. He is still a 1.8-meter-tall man. In front of his young children, he remained upright.

I think that among all the emotional components, tolerance is the most profound one. We can run hard for our loved ones, even if we fall down and get back up again.

I am 23 years old this year. I used to skip classes and play games at school and did not want to go to school. I always felt that a serious and hard-working life was far away from me. But tired and hard-working, he made me face the truth of life. I didn’t know how much pressure it meant to live with him, and how cold reality was, so much so that after he got drunk, he would cry like a child after listening to a dull song called “Heart”. I thought of his hands intentionally or unintentionally covering the unbuttoned buttons on his shirt when facing customers, and the way he laughed heartily when he mentioned his family...I felt sad for him, but also moved by him.

Postscript, the future

I think that one day, I will also be a husband and a father. Running for a living, struggling for ideals. And to grow into a man who shoulders responsibilities, perhaps there are too many things that need to be endured in a person's life. And the most important family members in our lives will always be the driving force for our growth.

I used to think that living meant watching the sun rise in the east and set in the west every day. It’s just that time will always lead us along the way, and we will naturally become an adult. But far from it, those strangers in life give us a heads-up and make us grow instantly. Maybe what they experienced, we will also need to experience one day; what they faced, we will also need to face one day.

I remember I once read this passage by Liu Liangcheng: "We cannot see all the snow that falls in a person's life. Everyone spends the winter alone in their own lives."

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If I could be like them, patient for the sake of my loved ones, endure all the wind, frost, rain, snow and all the hardships in life. Then, still persist, still be grateful, and still struggle. Maybe that kind of man can be considered true growth and maturity.