• my father played the phone

    For the mother, I have to write too much, maybe write every day, every day to write, write not over a lifetime. But, father, I have always wanted to write but did not dare to write. Perhaps my love for him is not easy because it shows between the lines. I didn't go home five one of the time, he was asked to call me, said father's younger male cousin hit his son, played very fierce, finally cousin anger not to go to school, even swear not to participate in the senior high school entrance examination is approaching. I heard he sighed deeply in the telephone, also think that fatherhood is difficult, the son is unaware of it box mod kit.

    And my father played the phone, I will slow not strength. I'm surprised I didn't once beaten my memory. Father is too good for me, at equal situation very early, he would ask me for advice, as for my mother. But in my first youth, but I want to take him as an enemy, against him, he let him eat irony, communication. I hate I often be opinionated self exile, by examination failed to make to prove himself not take life seriously; I hate I made time executioner, help a tyrant to victimize his subjects, personally murdered father buried his youth, middle-aged, also make him not so happy; I hate I read too many preconceived expectations but leave him be inexhaustible in rural areas where a crime, accept the son not filial piety fate annie g chan makeup; I hate me...... But the father never mentioned, he is always wearing a smile quietly accept the neighbors to his praise, although these are not necessarily really praise, and some very exaggerated, but he really is proud of us. He is like a fishing net to make us better, bad have all with time of the water washed away.

     

     

    When I was in primary school because of his play firecrackers, lie in bed and rest when I heard him and his mother blaming each other, why not take good care of me. In fact, I was not small, they had not staring at the necessary and obligation to me, but they are more for the fierce fight, finally actually, also broke the glass and teacup, I heard the sound of loud crashing suddenly felt a strong sense of guilt, I want to say it's none of your business, is I is not good, but it only silently, eyes slightly close to cry, do not know how long cry, I felt a warm hand to wipe my cold face, so soft, so with great care, I opened my eyes and saw my father, he was crying, he a the big man like little children in the hopeless cry, I cry silently beside the mother. My father, he did not go to comfort his wife instead to comfort just sensible son! For a moment I understood: he is afraid to fight to hurt a young heart. That night, the three of us could not fall asleep, we all at self reproach, I swear later no longer trouble, I have responsibility for things. Also appears in the evening, I cubujifang to grow up Residence Design.

     


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