The home in my previous life seems to be synonymous with misfortune. At first, it was my mother who accidentally hit the glass while delivering a manuscript for me and lost her proud beauty. Later, it was my down-and-out father who lost his only remaining advantage in a car accident - his strength. Finally, it was his constant confusion. I was so sad that after failing the college entrance examination, I drowned in a small river in the mountains. It seemed nothing, but there was a dull pain in the numbness. In my mind, when I went to the hospital to see my grandpa for the last time, he looked at me intently and quietly and said to me: "People always have to catch something with their own hands."
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I think, this time, at least don't give up or miss it easily.