Father loves as light as chrysanthemum

Some people say that father love is as light as chrysanthemum. I think it is true. Fatherly love is like a chrysanthemum with a faint scent, not as strong as maternal love.
My father has always been a strong backing for me. I flinched, he cheered me; I failed, he encouraged me... Sometimes, I don't think Dad cares about me enough, but think carefully, he did a lot for me!
When I first went to the country, I had no conception about the composition. When the teacher asked me to remember one thing or one person, most of them used a few pens and a heartless word to write a running account and dealt with things. Later, one day my father suddenly came up to see my composition, and then he smiled and shook his head. From then on, every time I finished writing the essay, my father would take the initiative to ask me to modify the changes. After I changed it, I would copy the entire workmanship to the teacher.
Probably in the second grade, one teacher's essay topic was "My Father and Childhood", mainly because we can understand the truth of the two old days, socialism, and capitalism. Let us cherish the hard-won happy life of today. As long as I grew up, I never heard my father tell me about his childhood, so he went home and wrapped him around to tell me about the past. The father's story is very nice, there are many touching plots, but when I get to my pen, it turns into a running account. Naturally, such an essay will not pass the father's first. My father took a piece of paper that I wrote and changed it. I jumped into the yard and went to the yard to find the friends to jump around the rubber band. When I went home with great sweat, I found that my composition had changed from one page to three pages. I immediately spoke eloquently: "So long, this time, let me copy it?" The father did not take care of me, turned and went to the living room to watch TV. I reluctantly copied the three-page essay, but I didn't expect that after the essay was handed over, I was read by the teacher as a good essay in the class. When the teacher commented on this stage that my essay was really touching and touching, my heart really felt like honey, don’t mention how sweet it is... maybe I was a great person since I was a child. Since the essay was praised and read by the teacher, I was addicted to the feeling of being praised and swaying. In order to allow myself to be praised by the teacher in the future, I began to ask my father to help me modify the composition. It is a revision, but in fact I basically let my father write for me. Every time I got the essay topic, I just randomly placed two strokes, and then pushed the draft paper to my father's hand and said, "Change it!" Then I went out to play. My father didn't complain, and every time I helped me to me, I basically rewrote it for me.
Dad cares about me silently and pays for me silently. Now, when I have grown up, I understand how sacred the name "father" is. Dad is always the best in my heart!

Comment: Many times, the greatest and sincere love is always expressed in a plain and unpretentious way. Only when I understand it with my heart can I feel its deep and fragrant!