A drop of water, a spring of grace

　　 What love, thick and deep; what love, slender and far-reaching. What loves, such as spring water like Tarzan; what love, such as the sky like the sea?

　　 The years that have been weathered, left traces in my father's broad and warm palms, the wounds and rough lines on his hands as if the mountains were endless. Aging, shocked at the fragility of my mind, that spiritual pillar, I hope never to be weathered.

　　 I am a daughter of Mount Tai, inherited from the thick and unadorned, naturally less attractive roses, still blooming with the depth of the plum; I flow with the blood of the sea, hot and warm with unrepentant life, naturally fewer wings to fly to the sky, still faithful, down-to-earth.

　　 You are my rope, I am your kite, you pull me to fly higher and higher, farther and farther. I see how the river is heaving, how the mountains are rolling, and I also see a bay of water of life, flowing through the seasons, spring and autumn, flowing through the years under your traction. Looking back, I saw your face full of sweat, but do not know fatigue. Your stingy gaze crashed into my silent tears, carelessly falling into the fable of invisible experience. Dad, pull me back, I still do your former life lover.

　　 The sunny and fragrant grass will always be cool in the flying clouds Ran the moon bridge, father kindness daughter filial piety, will always make life different into the dream soul unscrupulous faraway. Some memories, such as the sun after the rain, half wet, half brilliant, even if the breeze blows in a different direction, still can not leave your generous square. Write a poem to chant you into my daughter's heart, let my stubbornness, write into your yesteryear, the lofty verdant, blooming into jasmine fragrance.

　　 The memory is quiet and deep, even if the dust of the years can not cloud those true clarity. The fact is that you can find a lot of people who are not able to get a good deal on this. The story, is out of life, when engraved into the heart into eternity, the story, also began.

　　 Once had a dream, a dream home, Dad passed away, my cries woke up colleagues, colleagues reassured me that dreams are the opposite, and I tried hard to be convinced. Within a few days, Dad had a car accident, this time not a dream, because the blood flowing from my bitten finger gave me reality. When I arrived at the hospital, Dad was hooked up to an oxygen tank and his face was so swollen that I couldn't even recognize him.

　　 Although Dad survived in time because of resuscitation, that dream was real, so I was like a river of tobacco, a million feelings into the pale of the stranger crows flying by. I do not want to lock sorrow to see the dusty dusk, more than to sigh at the smallness of a grain of the sea, I just want that peaceful reliance, warm into my arms, do not want to change the cotton jacket, or soft and pretentious grass, lying in the father's chest in style.

　　 Childhood, like a stream without dust, always so warm and clean, Dad is like a boulder in the water, firm, and kind. When I was a child, my family was very poor, and even a full meal would worry my dad. Once I came home from doing hard work, my dad took out an apple rewarded by the boss and cut it into several squares with a knife, and one person had a flap and enjoyed it. Dad is as simple as a silly big man at home, does not know how to be selfish at all, if you are a little selfish, perhaps I will be happier.

　　 The house that was built with dad's sweat, without the touch of the sun, still emits a happy temperature, every tile, every brick, as if it should be proof of dad's wisdom and strength. Those days of playing bricks, a fight in seven years, I turned from a child into a girl, and witnessed the change of Dad from handsome to hobble. His face was full of wrinkles, perhaps a little more handsome than before, because, he smiled, he became the model of the village, he let his children wear beautiful clothes, and go to the city school. I know that the hard work for the father, is never compared to the daughter's happy growth, the big wave to wash away the sand, but also a grain of the sea, some suffering, in front of the happiness, but also so.

　　 There is a scar left on my face, although not obvious, but very real. It was a serious injury from a fall on a cow when I was young, and there was no hospital, no road, and no car in the village. Dad carried me on his back and rode his bicycle for dozens of miles of muddy roads to get to the North and South town hospitals for medical treatment. I seem to forget whether it was sweat or tears that dripped on my dad's face, but I remember that the traces of my face that did not heal made him silent for a long time.

　　 Although I had low self-esteem, in front of my father, these are not important, the important thing is that he will blame himself and be sad for any small injury I have. Who said that male children are the last hope of parents, and whoever marries me will have to be the shadow in the snow, like a father for me to admire and not abandon?

　　 The first thing you need to do is to get a good idea of what you want to do. The fact is that you can find a lot of people who are not able to get a lot of money from the internet. The dew on the jasmine is round and bright, I know it is your eyes, with silent sorrow.

　　 You are a ray of glowing light, no matter how dark the night is, it will light up my confused direction.

　　 You are a big tree, no matter how big the storm, will protect me with the body as a place of peace.

　　 You are an old song, no more worries, will soothe my dark sorrow.

　　 You are a night star, no matter how far away you are, you will guide my life's beacon.

　　 As my daughter grows up, your gaze is getting farther and farther away, while my attachments are getting closer and closer. The most important thing is that you will not be afraid of getting older and colder and heat, but you will be more and more lonely in your life. It is clear that the life of a person will always be accepted by time, but also can not help but think of you so far away. It turns out that I took your love for me and extended it to a thousand years.

　　 Some heartfelt words, always brewed in the mind for a long time, will know how to express, will make people sour, will be as plain as water but as sweet as tea. Some words, just a few, but as if never finished. Some love is so simple, but like the mulberry weave denser and denser. Perhaps the father's love is like tea, just taste, no words, you already understand.

　　 The world is unpredictable, the vertical success and failure, the time of day, and the years change. Time seems to be invisible verification of the increase and change, in our life, also seems to be in or wounded to leave traces of the cumin. The deeper meaning of happiness, a pure land of the heart, perhaps only the accumulation of fatherly love and motherly kindness and peace.

　　 For people's children, what is the heaviest filial piety, learn what their father did, do what their mother taught them, know how to peace themselves, with a grateful heart, party thinking up, stepping on the moon shadow, on the family talk and laugh about cherishing.

　　 Our life is not given by God, the moment we come into the world, it will be untethered from the two great men. The mountain welcomes another spring, drops of water are love, drops of love, it is difficult to repay the grace of the spring which.