When I was a child, I always liked to get into his arms. He read me a letter from my mother. I often cry because I miss her. He is a man of few words. He hugged me tightly, and tears hit my head, so hot. I don't understand. The pain in his eyes is because of me.
When I was a child, he liked to prick my face with a beard, which made me laugh. I remember, I often stand up and say that I want to marry my father when I grow up. He looks spoiled. He said, "Silly girl, you are so young, what do you know?" I curled my lips and refused to accept it.
When I am older, he will take me to the river to catch fish and shrimp, weave a small net to catch grasshoppers and catch cicadas at night. He was busy with work and gave up his poor rest day to play with me. In his words, "my girl only spent such a childhood, so I want to make her happier." I often say in front of my little friends that he is the best father in the world.
He is trying to be an excellent father. But as I grow up, I don't want to share my little secret with him; I don't want to go to the river with him to catch fish and shrimp again; I don't want to throw myself into his arms again; I don't want him to stick his beard on my face ... He said, "My girl has grown up, my girl has grown up." I can clearly see the pain in his eyes. He still gave me the best love, but he stopped holding my hand to cross the road; He stopped kissing my face and told me to go to school. He stopped catching cicadas and came back to cook ... he would grab my sleeve and be careful not to let me cross the road without a car; He will always stand in the same place and watch me go far before leaving; He will buy a lot of cicadas to cook, and he will say that these are not delicious.
He combed his hair in the mirror and soon called me in a panic. He said, "Girl, your father is old. Look, it's white! " I stared at those white hairs, which stung my eyes. I'm scared. I'm afraid he's old and left me. I looked at the wrinkles around his eyes and couldn't help touching him, but no matter how hard I tried, I let go and became the same again. You see, I have grown into a beautiful girl praised by everyone, but he is old, and my mother always touches the white hair on her temples and calls him "the old man".
I've always wanted to write an article to describe my dear father, but I can't write flowery words or exaggerated metaphors. His love is too ordinary and too special; His love is too great and too simple.
There is such a person who gives you all his love without stint; There is such a person who has always had hope for me; There is such a person who often stands behind me and gives me encouragement; There is such a person who gave me the best love in the world with his simplest words and deeds.
Dad, some love can last a lifetime.