The 2011 Guangdong Zero-Score Essay "Return to the Origin" | Xiaowei Ji - Sharing Happiness | Uncovering Freshness | Fun and Interest

Back to - Regain Happiness

Today, sitting in the 2011 exam room and seeing the composition topic "Back to", my heart was not calm. The first thing that came to mind was Liu Huan's song "Start Over" – Yesterday's all honors have become distant memories, hard work has passed half a life, tonight I walk back into the wind and rain again, I cannot drift with the tide, for my beloved family, no matter how bitter or difficult it is, I must be strong, just for those eyes of expectation. Every time I hear this song, I am deeply moved, tears well up unconsciously in my eyes, and I think of one person, someone I love deeply - my father.

My father is not the laid-off worker in the song; he used to be a criminal. Before he became a criminal, he was the Party Secretary of a certain city in our province (to avoid revealing specific facts leading to suspicion of divulging candidate information, all specific cities and characters involved in the article are replaced by "certain"). Six years ago, my father was removed from office, expelled from the party, and sentenced to three years in prison for corruption and moral issues, and all illegal gains were confiscated. At that time, I remember clearly that my father's imprisonment dealt a great blow to our family. My mother, who was involved in my father's case, was demoted from her position as Deputy Director of the City Agriculture Bureau and became an ordinary worker at the Agricultural Research Institute. Our family also moved from Building No.1 in the Municipal Committee compound to an old house in the Agriculture Bureau dormitory area. That year, I was in the first year of junior high school. After my father's incident, the principal and teachers who used to care about me a lot, and the classmates who always surrounded me and treated me like a leader, seemed to distance themselves from me all at once. On the way home after school every day, people who knew me and those who didn't would look at me with strange eyes - perhaps some pity or more curiosity. My mother cried every day at home, and there was always a very oppressive atmosphere in the house. To reduce my psychological pressure and not affect my studies, under my mother's arrangement and with the help of a good friend of my father, I transferred schools and continued my studies in this city. Three years ago, when I was in the first year of high school, my father was released from prison. That morning, I and my mother waited outside the prison. The feeling of looking forward eagerly is still vivid in my memory. The first impression of seeing my father was that he had aged significantly and lost weight, but his spirit was still good. His first sight of me, he touched my head and smiled: "You've grown taller." After my father was released from prison, my mother resigned from her job, and our whole family moved to the city where I transferred schools. We rented a house near the school. In the beginning few days, my father locked himself in the room every day, seemingly pondering something. A few days later, during dinner one afternoon, my father told us that he and my mother had contracted a large orchard in the suburbs to grow sugar oranges. When he said this, his eyes shone with excitement, and I saw the confident father on the podium and in the TV screen again. Since contracting the orchard, my parents worked very hard. They went out to work very early every day and returned home late with exhausted bodies. However, after dinner every night, our family gathered together in a relaxed and happy manner. My father could even tutor me in my homework. All these were scenes from when I was very young - dad, mom, and a happy family. There was no longer a father who came home drunk late at night, nor the uncles and aunts who put big envelopes on the shoe cabinet and smiled obsequiously to each member of our family. My mother no longer argued with my father over his all-night absences and the ambiguous phone calls and text messages from those pretty sisters and aunts. It was said that my father's insomnia had improved. He used to have nightmares frequently, always dreaming of police cars and handcuffs. Sometimes, the siren of a police car escorting him on official business would give him a headache. For a period, he even required the police car not to sound its siren but to use a loudspeaker instead. However, after truly sitting in a police car and wearing handcuffs, this dream no longer occurred. Although we no longer had the big house we used to have, I felt that this family was warmer and cozier. Sometimes, I even thought foolishly that if my father hadn't been that official, it would have been better.

In order to grow oranges well, my father returned to his alma mater, the Agricultural University, to study fruit tree cultivation. My father said that he had always focused on achieving political achievements and grabbing power before, and the major he studied in university was long forgotten. Now, he should seize the time to study and make up for it. The most discussed topics between my parents now are fruit tree cultivation problems. The current mayor of the city where our family resides, Uncle XX, who was one of my father's former subordinates promoted exceptionally by my father, visited my father many times. Grateful to my father, he asked if my father needed any help to solve difficulties, and even proposed to use his connections to introduce my father to a large enterprise as an advisor. My father humbly laughed and refused. He said that he had committed such serious mistakes before, and now whatever opportunities he had were given by the party and the people. He was satisfied and had no right to ask for anything, and he could live happily through labor.

Due to the efforts of my parents, our family's orange orchard grew the best oranges every year, with large and sweet fruits, and the orchard income was also quite good. During the Spring Festival holiday this year, my father happily told me: "Our family has bought a car!" Although it was a very ordinary and even rudimentary Changhe agricultural small minivan, in my eyes, it was much cooler than the black Audi that used to come with a secretary and driver! This was earned by my parents' hard work, and every penny was clean and infinitely glorious. Nearby villagers often came to visit and learn techniques. Some villagers, knowing about my father's past, jokingly called him Secretary X! My father always smiled kindly and taught all the techniques without reservation to local fruit farmers. The villagers were very grateful to him. Gradually, fewer people called him Secretary X and started calling him Professor XX. In my father's room hung a calligraphy piece with a famous saying by Zeng Guofan: "Through thousands of autumns only I remain, returning from a hundred battles to read books again." My father often encouraged himself with this sentence. He told me: "Our family has been farming for generations. When my grandfather sent him to the long-distance bus station in the county town after he was admitted to the Agricultural University, he told my father: 'Study hard in the future and let the fields grow more grain.' But after graduation, he did not engage in the work of making the fields grow more grain but entered politics, and his official career was smooth until he became the Party Secretary of the city. Although he made some contributions to the people, he also committed serious crimes. His life was like a parabola, with a majestic peak and a bleak trough. Now everything returns to the coordinates, becoming a modern farmer, which somewhat realized my grandfather's wish, and he feels peaceful and content... Actually, being able to return sometimes can help discover true happiness."

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