我不賭了
我就站在這裡
看你愛別人
我不賭了
我就站在這裡
看你愛別人
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My brain suddenly became a blank, silly hold it only feel the heart beat violently, as if there are surging waves to rush out of my chest. Suddenly, tears filled my eyes and rolled down.
Signature is his father, is his father's love letter, I can't believe, all day long has already bent figure hid in the fields of his father; Father who can only toil for crops all the year round; A father who unfurles his wrinkles when we award him praise; My father, who I think is so honest that he can only work and love us with silence, wrote an unusual letter, a love letter! Open it again with a shudder. "It's true!" I was in tears. There were only a few plain words in the letter, not a word of love. Always think that love is a pledge of love, sweet words of Me, at this time was not a "love" love letter moved beyond control.
The past clearly appeared in my dim vision: my father carried the water jar to the brim, and my mother always shouted to my father with a straight face, "Do you want to take care of these things? It is to be restless and miserable!" My father grinned, still the next day; I used to laugh at my mother's panic when she hurriedly prepared rain tools for her father, who was working in the field, on days when the weather changed suddenly. They pushed one of our sisters' leftover eggs around for reasons that even we knew were false. Finally, my father pulled a face and said, "Eat soon. Excuse me?" The mother will be wronged but can not hide a shy, low head to eat happily...
Flat light life in these flat light things actually contain so deep so true love! The way they love is very common, is always indifferent to us, and the way they love is too deep, we can not easily notice. In order to live, for us, father desperately to carry the burden of life, love buried in the bottom of my heart, with a hoe with sweat to sow the seeds of love, the yellow land planted with his father's ardent expectations. And mother, her hands have ever stopped, that pile of times by the tide of our abandonment of the thousand-layer shoes, the mother should be how many days and nights a needle to pay! They silently love each other, love their children, in the continuation of their children's hope, their ideals, they bear the love!
Maybe my father only wrote this love letter in his life, and my mother only received this love letter in her life, but this love letter without "love" has been cherished by them for decades, which is many times more romantic than their romantic love. Mother has been careful to protect, every day to wipe the red wooden box will be the father that work to earn money to buy? Is not bought back, they began a lifetime of mutual help? I do not know, I only know that father every day in the realization of his mother's "pledge of eternal love" - "a lifetime to you!" Also know mother's love from those two red wooden boxes overflow, overflow the whole space!