Dad, dad, I love your memories before you were six years old, and many of them are written on dad's shoulders.

Short hair that hurts like a brush, a clown who makes faces at a temple fair, and a brother who hides behind his father. . . Looking at the world from my father's shoulder, everything is idle and safe. . . Except for the first discovery of this harbor.

Before I was three years old, I was fostered with my grandparents, only 100 kilometers away from Tangshan, so I remember the earliest Tangshan earthquake.

I remember it was dark, thunder and lightning, and women and children were crying. . . The sound of bricks falling. Panic, but I don't understand why. I was not three years old that year. I was lying alone in a messy plastic shed, crying loudly. I can't understand the behavior of adults leaving me. Only when I grew up did I know that Grandpa refused to leave the house and said that he would share his ancestral property in life and death, so all those who could act came to dissuade me and had to leave me.

I cried for a long time, crying loudly and shaking all over. . . Until a pair of strange but powerful hands picked me up and tied me to my broad shoulders with something, no matter how I cried, I refused to relax. When I was tired of crying, I had to lie there and jump between the unrecognizable broken walls with this shoulder.

I'm angry, but I'm not afraid anymore.

One moment I heard grandpa talking loudly, and the other moment I saw him being dragged away by this overbearing man.

He is louder and angrier than grandpa, and he is too scared to make any noise.

Someone ran over and grabbed this shoulder, talking and crying. Then we left grandpa, turned and walked in the broken wall, shouting a name. Another poor child will be tied to the other side of his shoulder. He was dirty and cried even more. Until it was given to an adult who began to cry.

I believe he will finally hand me over to a beautiful woman who has been with us and crying all the time. She kept touching my face, saying things I didn't understand, and then messed up my hair. It seemed that she wanted me very much. Of course, that was my mother, and my father did give me to her on the train.

My father has hugged me for about two days. I fell asleep, woke up, full and hungry, rested enough, and then cried. I have no memory of my father sleeping or eating at all. I think he may be bad, because all the adults and children around him are crying. He must have scared him. I twisted harder and kicked him a lot. He's not angry either.

My mother later told me that as soon as I heard about the Tangshan earthquake, my father ran to my mother's work and dragged her to the railway station. It took me more than 30 hours to get home. He wouldn't hold me for fear of an accident, but he would go to the most dangerous place to save people. He insisted that his grandparents go back to the city where they work to avoid danger, but he repeatedly postponed his trip because there were too many people in need of help. I didn't sleep for four or five days and lost more than ten kilograms. . .

This is my contradictory father. When I was three years old, all I remember was that he couldn't cry.

The first time I saw him cry, I was frightened. At that time, he was leading me for a walk. Suddenly, four people fell on the loudspeaker, and the whole street became very happy, shouting, pushing and shoving, laughing like a festival. Dad didn't make any noise and stood there like a fossil. I'm surprised. I looked up at him with tears on his face, but his mouth was smiling. He told me that he was happy. I seriously thought that dad would only cry when he was happy.

? As a result, the next time my father cried, I was beaten.

Our family lives on the sixth floor. There are two large balconies on the roof. Outside the balcony is a circle of eaves about one meter wide. The children in the building and I climbed over the railing on this circle of eaves, chasing each other and having the most fun. One day, Alei and I were fighting across the hall on the roof, and someone shouted my name at the top of their lungs downstairs. A probe, turned out to be a father. I was proudly waving to him, but he ran away without a trace. I craned my neck to look for it in the crowd, and suddenly I was carried over the railing from behind and hugged tightly, even my arms were shaking. I looked up and saw my father crying again, with a face of fear and anger.

Of course, it is inevitable that he will hit me after crying.

The first time I was beaten, my father took me to the shop downstairs to buy fruit Maotai. I didn't feel sad for a long time. But the railing has been afraid to turn over, and the latest entertainment has been changed to over the wall. Now that I think about it, I admire my courage at that time. . . Fortunately, dad still doesn't know.

Once you hit it, there will be a second time and a third time. That's why I bought a ruler at home. In fact, hitting the palm of your hand hurts a little. You can hear it all along the corridor. My father had to do it gently, and sometimes it wouldn't be red after clapping, but I still cried my eyes out, and then I did it after crying the bad things. The so-called bad is about not doing homework, skipping classes and baking sweet potatoes.

I played it several times, and my brother and I both learned the essence. If we were older, we would certainly find something bad (breaking my father's fine wine glass, losing his stamps collected for many years, and so on). ), and it is best to have guests at home one day. Under the slogan of being lenient in confession and resisting strictness, the average father is finally embarrassed to start, so often the parents of the whole school know to learn from us, and the children of the whole school envy us. There are also many people who study hard, and it is not known whether their parents have settled accounts after autumn. It's enough that my father doesn't want to.

Probably because my father just stayed abroad, the wind of democracy blew into our home when I was in the fourth grade of primary school. This is reflected in weekly family meetings and voting. In family meetings, you can criticize or praise others, perform particularly well, and get extra pocket money. If you have something to solve, vote for it. If the father has only one child, this way will definitely make the child very painful. Now, it's always two votes to two, and nothing can be solved. After two or three attempts, it was eliminated immediately. The family meeting lasted four years. My four-year-old brother secretly riveted enough strength to supervise me and trained me into a good girl. The bonus of a good girl is naturally helped by a bad brother. There are no exceptions. Dad is still in the dark.

In a blink of an eye, my brother went to college, my mother went abroad, and my father fried Sichuan pork every day. . . My favorite dish. Living together is my deepest impression of those days. It seems that my father is actually my best friend, and I am willing to tell him everything. And my father's idea is the most pertinent, which taught me to think independently.

In retrospect, my father was a clever and capable man. But his seriousness and pride are never revealed in front of his family, and he is only tolerant and kind to us.

People always say that I am precocious. This precocity does not come from the pressure of life, but a gift from my father. It is an attitude towards life, optimism and self-confidence.

Once the days are happy, they pass quickly, as if eager to escape from the crowd.

Behind happiness are happy memories. . .

I haven't seen my father since I was sixteen. . .

"Dad, Dad, I love you!"