wait

Waiting may be an anxiety; waiting may be a helplessness; waiting may be a success; waiting may be a blessing... sometimes you are waiting for someone else, others are waiting for you silently.

Waiting for an arrow, crossing the gap of time, stringing up our usual story. In the free night, I remembered the backs of my father's waiting many times. The figure that was slightly hunched under the moonlight was the child waiting to return home, and waiting for the child to return home.

I still remember the scene when my father was waiting at the school gate. His eyes kept looking at the crowds, and he was anxious but patient. When I finally looked at her eyes, a pleasant smile appeared on his face, as if waiting was a kind of happiness, waiting was a kind of satisfaction. Then I ran up to grab his hand and threw the bag into his arms, jumping forward in front of him, and paying attention to his hasty steps from time to time. Childhood, I am a child who wants to return home, always waiting for my father, and my father’s waiting is also accumulating in my heart. Then I realized that this is a kind of love, called father love.

Gradually I grew up, and I gradually realized that my father still had a long wait, waiting for me to "home." From the national small to the middle school to the high school, my study is not logical, but I have not experienced much ups and downs. My father has been waiting for this period. He watched me grow taller than him. He looked at me with a certificate and went home. I watched my independence and looked at me meticulously. These are not the results of his waiting, and these small changes make him wait stronger and happier, waiting for me to have my own future, family, career. . . . . . This kind of waiting for a thing or scene that can't form an image in my mind. In short, he meets all my material needs, as long as it is what I want, he is definitely not discounted. In my mind, I always remember to call home every time, he let me eat well, pay attention to the body; I always remember to tell him every time I was praised, he smiled "squeaky", still not forget to tell me Come on; I always remember that every time my exam was bad, he would tell me to calm down and analyze the reasons and be confident in me. Ah, the fragments of this memory have become a long scroll, and the theme of this painting is waiting. The soul of this painting is a thick fatherly love.

Waiting is a kind of wisdom, the same mind, and a feeling of love;

Waiting is a helplessness, a trace of anxiety, a desire;

Waiting is a kind of lurking, a kind of accumulation, a process;

Is waiting a kind of happiness? maybe. I want the waiting people to wait happily and finally end up happily.

Sixth grade: Bai Ensheng