Father's foot

I used to see an advertisement. It was a public service advertisement for a child to wash my feet for my mother. I was very impressed. I was only about ten years old, and the child seemed to be only eight or nine years old.

On the screen, my mother was busy, and there was hard sweat on her face. The son saw the working mother on the side, and his eyes showed concern and concern. So, her little son turned and walked into the room. When he came back, he held a basin of water in his hand and said to his mother standing in front of him: "Mom, I wash your feet for you." The voice is so kind. ,so cute. The mother sat down and the son smiled and washed his feet for the mother. When I saw that scene, I don't know why? I cried, and I haven't spoken for a long time. Every time when I was at home, in my free time, the picture of my son washing his feet for the mother will come to my eyes, and every time it will make me feel shocked and moved. I can't forget this kind of picture of love, I don't dare to forget. In this way, the memories are repeated again and again, and this picture is deeply left in my memory, and I can't touch it. I have a look at my parents who have worked hard for most of my life. I feel so sad.

One summer a few years ago, our hometown was in the season of picking tobacco leaves, where every household was immersed in a busy and tense atmosphere. Flue-cured tobacco is our main source of income here. Almost all farmers spend a year's living expenses on flue-cured tobacco. Therefore, in the eyes of our rural families, flue-cured tobacco is ours. The peasants are better for their future life, so they are desperately busy this season. Many farmers go to the field to pick up the tobacco at 5 o'clock in the morning. It often takes more than 12 o'clock at noon to eat when they are close to a little. And the evening is even more surprising. It’s a common meal for two or more hours. This is for farmers. On such a busy day, our elders don't know how much has passed. And how much do I know about the things they have experienced and the pain they have suffered?

It’s just that in such a season, what happened is probably something I can’t forget in my life. It’s about my father, the memory is so deep, the picture is so clear...

As usual, this day, my family got up early and went to the field to pick up the tobacco leaves. Everything went so normal, there was nothing wrong with it, and the day was almost over. The father is also doing the last thing - putting the tobacco into the baking room. Because I was busy late, the sky was already dark when I was loading cigarettes, and the barn was dark, and my father could only do his work silently in the dark. The tragedy happened at this time. The father accidentally fell from the place of four or five meters, and no one could have expected it. At that time, I didn't know what my father felt like, was it numb? Or was it a sudden pain in my heart? At that time, the family was far from the hospital, and the sky was dark. The family invited a doctor from the village to pass the doctor. The check, the father's rib broke two. I heard this message, I don't know if the mother can bear it? I only feel that the home is as dead as death.

That weekend, I went home, the night was very dark, and it was very hot. My father was sullen and painful lying on the sofa. The mother was busy and busy, doing all kinds of housework. During the period when my father was sick, the farm work at home fell on the shoulders of the mother. I don’t know. How much the mother lost weight, I only saw the wrinkles on her face increased.

That night was very late, my mother was still busy, my father was lying flat, I was thinking about some problems, and forgot to help my mother do housework. After a while, my father looked at me, and there was some melancholy in his eyes. He suddenly said to me faintly: "You come to help me up, I have been lying for a long time, I feel very painful, I think I sit and sit." Sound, I can clearly feel it. After hearing my father's words, I immediately walked over and gently lifted him up and sat on the sofa. I heard his snoring and saw the difficult scene. I couldn’t stand it anymore. My nose was sour and my eyes were wet, but I didn’t dare to cry in front of my father. I could only press it down and silent. Endure. In the later days, I helped my father to go out for a while and then returned. I sat next to my father and thought, how did my father live in the days when I left home? His actions are extremely difficult? There are mothers. We sat for a while, my father was sleepy, I wanted to sleep, he wanted to wash his feet, so I helped him to pour hot water and put it on the ground. At this time, the mother suddenly said, "You help your father wash your feet, I still have things. "When I finished my mother, I went out and continued to do her business, and I didn't come back." I helped my father wash his feet? I was surprised at the time. When I was young, my parents washed my feet. Now, I have to wash my feet for my father. This is the first time I have washed my feet for my father. I feel very deeply. I squatted and began to wash my feet for my father. My father didn’t say anything, and I didn’t. Everyone was doing it. I lifted my father's foot and washed him silently. Every time I touched his foot, I felt a feeling in my heart. Is it fear? Is it awe? Or moved? I can't find the answer.

The father's feet are so rough, the old man on the soles of the feet is so thick, it seems that he has gone through a long and difficult road. Every mark is deeply engraved on his thick yellow feet.

I washed my feet with my tears, but my father didn't find it.

After that, I sat quietly and thought about it. Why is his father so hard? Why is his feet so rough? How many old ladies are there? I look at myself again, from reading now, what have I really done for my parents? It seems that everything is too embarrassing, that is I am only fifteen or six years old. What can I think of?

Father's feet, I don't seem to forget, until now, it is still like the picture in the advertisement, clear and clear.

It was the first time to wash my feet for my father. It was the first time I felt the love from my father in their speechlessness. Father's feet always run on the road, for the mother, for the children, for direction and purpose.

In this world, how many pairs of fathers are full of thick old feet, they are running silently for their families, running for this society, hard work, regardless of bumps. Most of us have neglected their hard work, no gratitude and reward.

Let go of fame and fortune, let go of our desires, let us go back to our parents, silently guarding our love, and letting the tragedy of "children want to raise and not to wait" happens to us. As long as everyone can give a love, and a grateful heart everywhere, will our parents leave us? Will this society leave us?