My father is 70 years old and he is becoming more and more like a child. When he walks down the corridor, his legs shuffle along the ground making a "cha cha" sound. Listening from inside the room, it sounds less like him walking and more like my 8-year-old nephew walking. Sometimes if the food isn't divided to his liking, he won't eat; when it gets cold, you have to coax him for a long time to get him to reduce his clothing. In the yard, father walks while whistling... there's no longer any trace of the authoritative father I used to know.
Father has increasingly become someone who gets overly excited when guests come over. When outsiders visit, they will deliberately talk softly with mother, as if to let the guest know that they are eating the first pot of dumplings... He knows well that when there are guests, mother won't argue with him. Once the guest leaves, father immediately becomes humble again towards mother.
Every time father comes back from outside, his first question is always: Where's your mom? If mother is at home, father stops talking nonsense; if mother isn't at home, father will go looking for her earnestly, determined to bring her back.
Once, after father came back from morning exercises, mother said: You didn't even check yourself in the mirror after coming out. Your face hasn't been washed clean, and there's still eye gunk stuck under your eyes. Father didn't believe it: I walked around outside and no one noticed, only you did. Father felt quite aggrieved: Others might notice but wouldn't bother telling you, you're just too childish.
At home, if there's some scrap copper or iron, old newspapers, or plastic bottles, father will happily take them to the recycling station to sell. After selling them for three or five yuan, he no longer hands it over to mother, instead pocketing it himself as secret "pocket money," which he uses to eat out or buy snacks.
Father used to be very frugal, unwilling to eat out or consume any snacks. Now that he has no small expenses, he has become generous, often going to street stalls to eat "tofu hotpot"... without meat, shrimp, seaweed, kelp, or tofu, a bowl costs only one yuan fifty fen. Father likes eating flatbread stuffed with braised beef. Braised beef is a special kind of food in Xinjiang... cooked until tender, seasoned with various spices, pressed into blocks, and when eaten, cut into thin slices with a sharp knife and stuffed into freshly baked warm flatbreads.
One day, father complained to me about mother: Everyone else orders one yuan worth of meat, but since my flatbread was smaller, I ordered two yuan worth of meat, and your mom scolded me for being wasteful. I found it extremely funny - this wasn't the serious, rigid father I remembered, but clearly a greedy child! I pulled out 50 yuan from my pocket and gave it to him, telling him to specifically use it to buy flatbread stuffed with braised beef, and specifically instructed him not to tell mother. Father happily took the money and left. A little while later, as I passed through the kitchen, I heard father proudly telling mother: The children gave me 50 yuan to buy braised beef stuffed flatbread, see, it's the children who care!
Suddenly, I felt a wave of sadness... we are getting bigger, and father is getting smaller. This feeling is just like the poem written by a poet named Yun Ming...
Father has become small / standing here / like a section of tilted earth wall / ... father's attitude towards me is increasingly like a child's / when I talk to father / he keeps nodding his head / unable to understand the meaning of words / then opens his mouth and grins foolishly at me... At one moment / I suddenly wanted to become a father to father / buy him the best toys / cook him delicious meals every day / encourage him to study, all the way to studying abroad / if anyone bullies him / I wouldn't care about anything / roll up my sleeves / and give them a good beating...
One day, when I came home from work, I saw father walking towards the street. I quickly walked over and called out to him, asking him where he was going. Like a child waiting for someone to come home, he grinned and said he was waiting for me, afraid that I would get lost and not find my way home. A faint sense of emotion welled up in my heart, my nose tingled, and tears blurred my eyes. Thinking: You've straightened my crooked back, even though you might get lost yourself, you're still worried about me, such deep paternal love! I turned my face away so father wouldn't see my tears, and asked him to take me home. As we were walking, I suddenly stopped in my tracks, but father didn't notice and continued walking ahead. The sunlight bathed his entire body in gold. Looking at his increasingly larger silhouette, tears once again blurred my eyes.
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