Writing Father's Prose (2)

Article 5: My old father My old father is a tiger, so he naturally has the power of a tiger! When I was a child, I thought he was a real "tiger" in my family. All of us are afraid of him. If we make some mistakes, we dare not speak in front of him. We can only wait for him to fight "tiger" with fear. When I grow up, I will have a deeper understanding of his "obedience".

When I was a child, my father was the pillar of the family, and he was the only one in the family who could earn a few dollars by working as a carpenter. My mother is a housewife, running the house, and although she is also very hardworking, she has no economic income. We have to rely on his income to support his grandparents, my sister and me, and also to support our school. At that time, I knew that my father never stopped working 365 days a year, and he basically didn't rest on New Year's Eve.

My father is very strict with me and my sister. As long as we make mistakes outside, other parents complain. No matter who is right or wrong, he always scolds us first in front of others, and sometimes even picks up a small bamboo pole on the latch and hits me first until people go back or stop him. Therefore, I am particularly afraid that he will be "powerful" and become very good. Actually, dad loves me very much. Sometimes I make a mistake and he doesn't want to hit me. He always said, "Remember, if you do it again, you can fight together." I was pretty scared at the time. Now that I'm grown up, I know it's because my father won't hit me.

My father's praise to me is also silent. He occasionally tells me to study hard, but he always asks me to report my exam results at the end of each semester. When I do well in the exam, I will be happy to tell him and show him the certificate issued by the school. He will be very happy, do it himself, make paste with rice and stick my certificate firmly on the wall. But when I failed in the exam, he always said nothing. So every time my grades are not ideal, I am particularly afraid to see his silent expression, and I secretly make up my mind that I must do well in the exam next time. Therefore, I have always been particularly conscious since I was a child. I never need my parents to remind me to do my homework. After school, I always do my homework first and then go to play. I remember when I graduated from junior high school, a wall at home was covered with my awards.

My father never dotes on me and my sister. When I was five or six years old, he took me to do farm work. After graduating from primary school, I took my sister and me to cut rice, make rice ears and learn to farm every summer vacation. Usually I am asked to pull weeds in sweet potato fields, and sometimes I am even sent to pull weeds alone. Perhaps influenced by him, sometimes I will finish the task even if I don't want to. So my skin has been tanned since I was a child.

I grew up, my father was old, and his "slave" almost disappeared after I jumped out of the "farmer's gate" to study in a normal school. I graduated from college, worked and got married. Father always wants to lighten our burden, or he often looks for a job. He always refused to listen to our persuasion, continued to plant his rice and refused to give up his farm work. Years ago, he was crushed and hurt his foot while working outside the construction site, and it took him a long time to recover. I found that his hair was much whiter, older and thinner, and I couldn't help feeling bitter.

I really hope he will live a long and healthy life.

Chapter VI: Father and his land, Zhong Jing's hometown in 1980s, are still very poor, lacking everything except land. Although there are many fields, most of them are thatched fields and reed fields. After the implementation of the household quota system in rural areas, good land-that is, more fertile land-was distributed to households, but no one wanted to plant those thatched fields and reed fields. My father, who was transferred from the town to the village head, volunteered to contract the thatched land in the east of the village. As far as my father is concerned, it doesn't matter as long as it is land. Crops will grow as long as they are ploughed and fertilized. In my father's eyes, every piece of land is a treasure!

The thatched land in my memory grows half a person's height every autumn. Although nobody cares, it grows very luxuriantly. After the thatched grass blooms, the white flocs about an inch high are like fluffy filaments, edible and soft as cotton. Our children call it Grandpa Mao, and we often use it as a feather duster. When the adults plowed the thatched fields, a group of children and I followed behind to pick up the thatched roots and chew the jade-white thatched roots, which were sweet.

The two sisters resolutely opposed their father's contract for thatched land. Because my sisters are married, the rest are old, weak and sick. My brother is only a few years old and I am a teenager. My mother is ill and they are old. It is enough to divide the land by yourself. My father is going to contract land again. Who will help him plant it? Father is stubborn and still wants to reclaim that thatched field.

I am too young to help plow, so my father asked my uncle's cousin and uncle to help me. Cousins and uncles don't value land. It is said that Maogen is not clean. Besides it this year, it will grow again next year. After planting crops, thatch will "eat" crops. Father just smiled and didn't speak. I know my father doesn't believe what they say. Father has his own ideas and grand plans.

Father told us his grand plan. Plant corn in the middle and vegetables at both ends. On the day of the awning, my father dug a nest with a shovel in front, and I sprinkled fertilizer and corn seeds in the back. Every time my father planed the nest, I sprinkled fertilizer and corn seeds, then buried it with my feet and pressed it with my feet. When digging a nest, my father taught me not to sprinkle too much fertilizer, just a small handful, because too much will burn the seeds to death. Don't sow too many seeds, sow 2-3 seeds per nest. When dad dug the nest in front, his eyes kept watching me sprinkle some into the nest. At first, I was serious and obedient, but when I was tired, I began to be lazy. Sometimes, I bury my nest without sowing. I did not escape my father's eyes. Father asked me to dig it out again and then scatter seeds in it.

In the south, my father grows mung beans, and in the north, he grows Chinese cabbage, carrots, green radishes and green onions. That thatched field is just beside the field, and my father asked me to help him dig some deep pits and plant yam. Where there is no yam, beans are planted. When the beans come out, climb up along the corn stalks.

My father has been paying attention to that land all autumn. Go and see it in a few days. As long as the grass grows, dad will pull it up. After autumn, all the corn cobs grew very big, and my father praised every corn cob happily. That autumn, our family not only harvested a lot of corn, but also harvested mung beans and vegetables. Cabbage and radish were eaten in our house all winter.

My father farmed until my brother got married. After I joined the work, many colleagues heard that my father had planted more than ten acres of land, which they couldn't understand. They asked me, "Is farming very profitable?" I said, "No money. After selling grain to buy fertilizer, there is not much money left except water, electricity and fertilizer. " They don't understand: "Then your father still breeds?"

Yes, my father is 77 years old, and he and his brother still plant more than ten acres of land. Many people can't understand their fathers, but I do. My father has been the village head for more than 30 years. He never left that black land, and his blood and hope were spilled on that land. Why can't my father leave that land? Because he loves it so much.

Chapter 7: Father's glass My father has given up drinking for many years, and I haven't drunk with my father for a long time.

My father was a great drinker when he was young. My father told me that my mother could drink better than him, but I seldom saw my mother drink. My mother thinks drinking is a luxury.

In my opinion, my father likes drinking, usually before dinner. When I was a child, I liked to watch my father drink quietly. In the evening, my mother cooked a side dish. Dried bean curd is the best wine. If you make an omelet with vinegar, it will be a special celebration, or my father's birthday.

The wine bottle is on the low table in the corner of the kitchen. There is no trademark on the white glass bottle. It is the bulk wine at the entrance of the village-dried sweet potatoes. Father took out two wine glasses and a small white porcelain cup, which can hold about two glasses of San Qian wine. Fill it slowly, but don't spill a drop. Now that I think about it, it's almost like selling oil Weng. After mom sits down, dad will put a glass of wine in front of mom, and mom will turn away for a while as usual and say no. Father always said with a smile that drinking alone is boring. Drink with me. In this way, they talked about the hard work and happiness of the day while drinking simple dishes. My father sometimes lamented the hardships of life, calculated how the days would pass, and worried about my sister and me. Mother always said the same thing gently: take your time. I didn't know what life was at that time, but I always looked at my parents calmly and felt that there was nothing better than eating at home.

Father usually only drinks about five small cups, and mother drinks two at most. After drinking, my father turned the cup upside down and buckled it on the bottle cap. My happiest thing is that my father will tell many stories to my sister and me after drinking. Journey to the west, the list of gods, serial stories and so on are all read out by my father. Under the dim shadow of kerosene lamps and the smell of wine, we often forget to sleep.

One night, my father was suddenly very happy. Halfway through the drink, he asked me, son, do you want to drink? I asked curiously if it was delicious. Father said it was delicious. Mother looked at our father and son, smiled and gently hit her father and said, what wine do children drink? Father said that if you want to drink when you grow up, practice first. I put a drop of wine in my mouth with chopsticks, and my curiosity was immediately rushed back to my stomach by a pungent smell coming from my nostrils. In this way, I gradually got used to the taste of wine. I had a few drinks at my uncle's house until the Spring Festival the following year. After being carried home by menstruation, I never dared to drink again until I graduated from technical secondary school.

What happened in the fourth grade summer vacation made my father drink more and more wine, and he no longer controlled to drink only about five small cups. Because that summer vacation, my mother died of a sudden cerebral hemorrhage. My father's cup was replaced by a big one, and I no longer enjoyed the wine. I began to be afraid of my father drinking. For a time, I hated his self-abandonment, ridicule and ridicule. When mom was away, dad stopped telling me stories after drinking. He always leaves quietly, and sometimes he gets angry with me and my sister for no reason.

Finally, one day, I secretly followed my drunken father out of the door, only to find that my father always went to the same place-my mother's grave after drinking. In the cemetery, he held a bottle in his hand and talked to his mother in tears. When my father found me, he finally couldn't control his long-term depression and hugged me and cried.

I want to go to school thousands of miles away from home, and my father also carries a backpack to dig coal in Pingyao County, Shanxi Province. My father wrote to tell me that he had a good life and drank every night. He also bought a beautiful wine glass specially, which is conical with a small mouth and a big bottom and can hold three or two glasses of wine. I often wonder what that glass looks like.

In three years, my father only came back once, but I didn't see the glass he said. After parting from my father again, I have been writing to tell him not to drink too much. That year, I often read in newspapers that there were many fake wines in Shanxi, and many people were disabled or even died because of drinking that kind of wine. Suddenly, I hate my father's drinking. He always refuses to listen to my persuasion, so that I don't want to write to him for a long time.

That year, my father didn't come back for the New Year. Thinking about all kinds of things after my mother died, I think he doesn't love me and my sister, and he doesn't miss his elderly grandmother. I am sad. Father didn't come back until the summer vacation, saying that he would never dig coal again. I wanted to have a drink with my father at noon, but my father only drank a little and then stopped drinking. After dinner, he silently took off the cotton wool under the bed and put it on the hard board.

I didn't know until I heard from my brother-in-law who went to work in the coal mine with my father. My father didn't come back during the Spring Festival because the mine collapsed and hurt his waist. But I can't cry! I feel that my heart is blocked by countless coals and I can't breathe. It turned out that my father didn't give up drinking, but his waist injury didn't heal. Naturally, he can't drink much wine and can only sleep in a hard bed. And all this is for the cost of studying with my sister! I have misunderstood and hurt my father countless times in my mind.

But this time, I really saw a conical glass, which can hold three or two glasses of wine, just what we had for that meal.

When I have the ability to often buy some wine to drink with my father, we often brag bottle by bottle, and I am no longer afraid of him. I feel like a brother. That's what my colleagues in town say. We like to drink at my house.

When I was free, I always wanted to go home and have a drink with my father. My father once again announced that he would give up drinking and warned me to drink less. It turned out that his father's body no longer allowed him to drink. Every time I watch us drink, my father's eyes are still nostalgic. At first, I drank red wine, and then I stopped drinking anything.

But the cone glass has been lying at home, quietly waiting for something.

Chapter 8: My father Zhou Nianji was leaning on my hand when he left. He suddenly blinked a few times and left quietly. This year, my father often tried to close his eyes when he left. Maybe I will never forget it. Even today, my father's performance on his deathbed seems incomprehensible.

Memories of the anniversary are still there.

Father's illness is a common chronic disease. Eventually die of old age. All the organs of the body are failing. This is a hopeless situation. Is that the brain consciousness has been clear as usual, and there is no coma until death. It is rare to be ill for so long.

My father tried his best, and finally it was hard to blink. After a long time with my eyes half open, I tried several times. I was worried and wanted to bring him back to life. I don't know, those suddenly half-open eyes are clear. Do you want to see this familiar world again? Do you want to see his descendants again? That expression, for people who come to the end of their lives, needs much strength!

I miss you infinitely on the anniversary.

My father objected to my smoking at first. I went back to my residence to see him off. On the way, he handed me a cigarette and told me that my eyes were failing. On the road, I can't see where the car is going. I asked him, what happened? Is it not senile cataract? It's no problem to have an operation in a few days He just told me that the doctor said that retinal detachment was incurable. Now I am confused. Over the years, my father came to me and asked him to come and go, never seeing him off. Sometimes he mentioned walking him to the car. He always said, go to work and do your thing. He is afraid of delaying me. At this time, I really felt careless, and my strong father was really old.

About ten years ago, I will never forget it. Father handed me a cigarette. How many times did I respect him?

On the anniversary, there is no end to repentance.

Usually, my father will be annoyed and don't care if he says something that he can't listen to. Now that I think about it, it is wrong. Once I ate noodles, I said that you were too noisy and unsightly. My father looked at me and said nothing. Now every time I eat noodles, I feel that I shouldn't say it. My family education is very strict, my brothers and sisters live in peace, and my age is orderly. Just me, six brothers and sisters. My family is small and I am used to it. I have grown into a personality and I don't respect it. My father tolerates me, but I want to integrate into society. My lovely father was still worried about me until he died, but there was nothing I could do.

It's a little annoying to listen to your nagging, but I can't listen to it if I want to listen to you again. What is lost, good or bad, can only be thought.

I miss my father on the anniversary of his death.

Father is an old man, brother and sister, and has experienced a lot. It's just that they seldom tell us these things, and some of them listen to others, as if they were stories. At that time, I wanted to have a chance to listen to my father himself in the future. Because you are busy? No, when I was young, my father seemed very silent. When I grew up, I went home and became a guest. I always thought that he would grow old and have a chance to talk to him about the past. I didn't know he was aging so fast in just one year, and now he can't ask. What a pity. His whole life has not been solved for his children.

My father was cautious all his life and often told us: Seek more happiness and less wealth. In the early 1990s, I thought about quitting my job and doing something. He said, "Let's just live like this. This is also the advice he has been giving us." .

A few years ago, I finally came out of the unit and did my own thing. My father was worried and sent me money several times. I can't bear to accept it. He always said that spending less money in his hometown was enough. I know he is old and in poor health, but he misses me very much. I am unfilial.

Father is too strict and his thoughts are endless. On the anniversary, burning incense for you is not to relieve my tears. I can only write these words and remember you.

It's dad's birthday again, so we can't celebrate your birthday. No matter how busy we are these years, we will come back to you today to bless you. I don't want to be separated from heaven forever. There is a saying that men are afraid of being born a few days ago, and women are afraid of being born later. Father left the day before his birthday. At that time, we had no special consciousness and wanted to celebrate our father's birthday in the hospital, but my father insisted on going home, but he didn't get out of this spell.

Memories can be retrieved, but smiles can't be retrieved. Is this life?

The person who loves me the most in the world has gone, gone forever.

My father's love for me is like a mountain. I am lucky to be with him for more than forty years.

Thank you for giving me life, nurturing me and teaching me to be a man.