Write ordinary stories and salvage the warm moments in life.
My father, Qin Mo, is thirty-three years old. He grew up with me and taught me principles. My biggest impression of him when I was a child was that he spent most of his time at home in his study. What impressed me most was that he was wearing a brown cashmere sweater and sitting in front of his desk. The sunlight outside the window just happened to shine on him, giving him a golden halo, like a god's mansion.
From my babbling to toddlerhood, from carrying a small schoolbag to campus to graduating from college, my father was by my side every step of the way.
When I encounter setbacks, he encourages me; when I make mistakes, he analyzes the process with me and how to avoid making similar mistakes again; when I am unhappy, he makes me laugh; when I am happy, I share it with him and he will laugh happier than me.
It was the towels he changed again and again when I had a high fever; it was his big, calloused hands that were placed on top of my head when he encouraged me; it was every time he got good grades, although he was not good at words, I could clearly see the pride and light in his eyes.
Purpose: I want to write a book about fathers and sons. Every bit of life, whether it is joy, anger, sorrow, joy, or encountering difficulties and setbacks, there will always be people who love you by your side to accompany you.