That figure, I have never been so nostalgic, so reluctant. As engraved in the heart as unforgettable, stubborn tears refused to fall, but quietly bloom in the heart
Dad came to the speech activity. He always thought it was boring and better to sleep at home. But after the activity began, he listened to it very carefully, without any previous carelessness. He is always such a duplicity.
Gradually, the speech to the emotional place, around the low cry, mixed into one. I always lowered my head and wring the corners of my clothes with uneasy hands. His eyes wandered around, but he never dared to look at him directly. When I finally got up my courage, I raised my eyes slowly and looked at him. Found dad's eyes in the sunset, bright. Seeing this, I hesitated to wipe him with the back of my hand. However, he had a big body, leaning back. I looked at the lost hand in a daze, and the corners of my eyes were slightly astringent.
The setting sun is gradually setting in the west, and the activity is coming. Dad is going to leave. I didn't detain, not don't want to, but I don't know how to detain, and what kind of reason to detain? In the sunset, my father's back is so short, so short, I seem to see the old father shuttle in time and space. His steps fall together, each step seems to step on my heart, so heavy and heavy. When he got to the stairway, he put one hand on the handrail and his coat under his arm. Step by step, step by step, my eyes follow his steps
After the turn, his head seemed to turn slightly to my side. I turned back in a hurry to avoid his sight. Time moves with difficulty, like a moment, and like a long, long time. When I look back, the turning, no longer see the warm and familiar back. His eyes passed the stream of people over and over again, but he couldn't find it again. After all, go back to my seat. Hand caress in which father once sat on the seat, where there is still residual temperature. But I don't know if it's his gift or the sunset. Fingers close, as if to keep the warmth in the palm.
The back soaked by the setting sun and dyed by love. The sun will set, the memory will disappear, but love will never forget