Father is really old.
However, the old father did not dare to bend over. He must be as tall and straight as a tree to support a peace for his children.
Old father dare not stumble. He had to let the children step on his footprints and carefully avoid the mud and thorns on the road.
However, the old father dared not let his old arm hang down. He must be as excited as ever, like a lighthouse on an island reef, guiding his children home in the vast sea of people.
The old father, however, did not dare to let the dream of life wither. He must make it alive with all his confidence, such as the green leaves written by O Henry, waving away the loneliness of years for his children.
The father led the children, and the sunset lengthened their shadows, and the world became extremely quiet in their shadows.
A father guards his children like two familiar trees. No words, no communication, nothing can disturb them except love.
Father stood like this, standing among us like a stone.
For children, the father is dependent and practical.
For us, father is the bearer and the voice of human blood surging.