At the age of 6.
On the playground, a little boy learns to ride a bike next to his father. Without a word of guidance, there was no comfort. The little boy fell and fell, but his legs were already wet. Finally, the child sat on the floor and cried, crying. My father stood still, his eyes full of disdain and indifference.
The child longed for father's encouragement. No; The child longed for his father's hug, but he didn't. It was just those empty eyes that made the child cold and cruel. Finally, the child stopped crying and stood up stubbornly, straddling the car, and began to try again. My father was already interested, turned around, took big strides, and left. There was another metal rubbing against the ground, and the father just casually went back down, his hand trembling. The child stood up, thinking of his father's indifferent eyes, and the two lines of tears slid across his cheek inexplicably. One step, two steps, three steps... The father's footsteps remained firm.
At the age of 16.
In the hall, the boy was surrounded by crowds and walked up to the podium. Once again high trophy, again cheers like the tide. With honor in hand, the child struggled to find his father in the flash of flashing lights. There was only one man in the crowd, except for him. Suddenly, the auditorium seemed empty except for the child and his father. Still indifferent, still so dismissive. Father's empty eyes dazzled the radiant cup. He stood up, walked to his son, grabbed the trophy, and the father handed it to the teacher in the background without hesitation. Two lines of hot tears flow down again involuntarily, one step, two steps, three steps... The father's footsteps remained firm.
Yesterday.
At the school gate, a young man said goodbye to his father. No pleasantries, no relief, no hugs, no words. Looking directly at his father, his wrinkles were deep, and his black hair was graying. Tears rolled down her eyes. In the blur, there was some light in his father's cold eyes. The trembling hand reached out to his own son, and stopped in mid-air, and drew back again. Pointing at the door, the father turned back and did not move. Looking at the back of my father. As he neared the corner, his father fixed it, looked back, glanced at him, and saw his son. The young man stared at his father and the tears finally flowed down. In silence, heart is so warm, one step, two steps, three steps...
It is today.
The examination room. There is a child who writes a silent father, full of gratitude and pride.
My father, his feelings like the fine autumn rain, gentle spring breeze, no ups and downs, just indifferent.
The silent fatherly love -- I am grateful for it.
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