I was born in a small southern town in the 1980s.
My father was once a decent cadre in the town. He single-handedly helped his three younger brothers to start a family and start a business. He was the hero of the family and the mountain in our eyes.
At that time, our family was the most enviable family in the whole street.
But no one expected that a gamble would ruin everything.
The iron rice bowl was ruined, the family lost all its wealth, the debt piled up, and debt collectors came to your door every day.
The uncles who he had helped with all his resources, when we were most desperate, stayed behind closed doors, looked at each other coldly, and made trouble for us.
My father couldn't bear the pressure and walked away, leaving all the mess, infamy and fear to my mother and us siblings.
My mother didn't cry. She just wiped away her tears and said, "Don't be afraid, my mother is here."
She worked odd jobs, ran small businesses, worked day and night, and used her hands to hold up the broken home.
Later, life slowly got better, my brother got married, and we no longer wanted to interact with our relatives, but they came uninvited and accused us of being heartless in public;
When it came to our children's 100-day banquet, we sincerely invited them, but none of them came.
At that moment, we were completely chilled, and we saw clearly: the coldest thing is the human heart.
Later, the old and depressed father returned, full of regret.
We have hated, hurt, and despaired, but in the end we chose to forgive.
After half a life of ups and downs, suffering from the warmth and warmth of human kindness, I finally understood:
A real family is not kidnapping by blood, but cherishing and supporting each other.
A family of four reunited at a table, having simple meals, and it was a sunny day.
For the rest of our lives, we will only stay with the people who love us, live a stable life, and have gentle years.
