A father is always a role model wherever he goes. Every year during the Spring Festival, my father would take out the awards he received as an advanced worker and my mother, with a beaming smile, would urge him to paste them on the central wall of the hall. Father is Mother's pride, and the awards are a testament to that pride. Over these many years, I've lived a life like a wild horse in the dust, seeking gains through any means necessary, looking human but living a mixed existence. Sometimes consumed by fiery passion, other times chilled to the bone, I've done what needed doing, and also what shouldn't have been done; forgotten what should be forgotten, and also what shouldn't. Waking up in the morning to nightmares, lying down at night feeling stiff and dead, if it weren't for this old skin covering me, how would Mother know that this body is still mine? And before we knew it, we were nearing middle age, surrounded by electronic fences. So, tonight, to cheer myself up, I must praise my old dad heartily. I have finally found a relatively suitable job position.
When the new branches grew a bit larger, Xu Xu could see that there were quite a few buds. It was even possible to tell which branches would bear fruit. I complained, saying that if my father had shown more restraint while pruning last winter, perhaps there would be more fruit buds now than just sprouts. Also, your kindness. My father's hospitality is well-known outside, and many people come specifically to visit, including those from our hometown who come to Xinjiang looking for our family, claiming they are from the village next to my father’s hometown, though they may never have met. But amidst the busy moments, and sometimes when my own mental state feels shattered, those past laughter and joy always make my vision blur and get misty, and inadvertently immerse me deeply within them.
In July, I arranged to meet Qunhai in Shenzhen and asked him to take us to where he lives. But every time I see her red eyes, my heart feels as if it is being pierced by a knife, causing immense sadness. Listening to her words, I felt they made perfect sense. Five years later, when our daughter had a child, we were invited to visit relatives in America. We were playing cops and robbers in the terraced fields, and since I ran fast, I played the robber. I kept telling myself this. After the announcement of the high school entrance exam results, my son scored more than ten points above the control line for high school admission, finally stepping into the threshold of high school. Do you remember? You didn't want to eat at school, so the teacher had no choice but to carry you, crying and making a fuss, to the cafeteria with three people. Although Mom never saw your naughty behavior at the time, one can imagine how funny and cute it must have been, and so you became famous at school. Mother said it was a neuralgic headache. But when she returned home, she never told me, fearing that I would be sad. The villagers all take my sister-in-law as a role model, praising her, motivating themselves, and educating their children. Life may be broken, but the thread spun by the top remained strong, shielding their dignity. However, from a girl's perspective, how wonderful are the qualities of my second sister! My second sister left so much beauty for us, for Mother, and accumulated layer upon layer of pain for Mother. Each family has its own affairs.
In the morning, I accompanied him to the school gate, watching him walk through the big iron gate before going to work, and in the afternoon, I waited at the school gate before school let out, returning home together with him. Anyway, it's just a mock exam, isn't it? It's just a trial, not a one-shot decision for life. Indeed, worrying too much about something that doesn't matter is like the man from Qi worrying unnecessarily about the sky falling. What most amazed Mother was that it actually blossomed with clusters of trumpet flowers, some red, some purple, and others a bright blue, like thin enamel cloisonné porcelain, as if knocking on it would produce a clear resonance, and touching it would scatter pearls and jade. So many years have passed, and every Qingming Festival, I think of Grandma. Perhaps Grandma knows from beyond, for around the Qingming Festival, I always dream of Grandma. Walking alone under the dim streetlights, I found myself moving quickly! Thinking about my obedient daughter being alone at home, how could I not be deeply worried?