(Luoshui).
Blame me, it wasn't until the college entrance examination that year that I realized that he had different expectations for me, and in the wheat field of his life, I was a wheat plant rushing to take the exam.
Two days before the college entrance examination, the school asked us to adjust ourselves. I turned around and went home. After half a year of retreat and hard study, I was completely decoupled from the season. When I got home, I found that the ground was full of gold, the sky was full of wheat fragrance, and it was the wheat harvest season. Time flies so fast, and what caught me off guard even more was that my father, who had been towering in front of me for many years, was no longer as tall as me!
My father was very pleased with my return to the line of fire. "Father and son soldiers", wheat harvest is my father's most important battle, for many years, we have been fighting side by side, the time is back to the warehouse. My father took a sickle, tried the blade, and handed it to me: This year, the wheat is lodging, and it is going to be cut by hand. I was apprehensive - in the past, when I harvested wheat, I followed the harvester, piecemeal, and there was zero confrontation;Now back to the era of cold weapons, fighting a "positional war" with Maizi, I really feel a little powerless.
I took the scythe and shook it, and I knew that I would not be able to do it as easily as my father did.
In June, the sun was blazing, and I was a fish caught in the net.
From time to time, I straightened my waist and walked along the spine groove, sweat pouring down and soreness flowing backwards. I underestimated the weak wheat, and the scythe turned against me, blistering my palm. I was exposed to the blinding sunlight of wheat, isolated. My father was like an indestructible tank, invincible. Here, the father is always full of firepower. I have to admit that this wheat field is my father's home field, and I am his cheerleading team.
This is a father's "war", and I can't provide "firepower" support, but I can serve tea. My father looked at my hand, "Are you used to it?"Don't clench too tightly, it's the same as holding a pen. I nodded. The sickle was my father's pen, and the wheat was ink, and he could splash ink on the field, but he couldn't teach me, and I never learned it by heart.
After drinking the water, my father asked me, "It's almost time to take the college entrance examination?"I said, the day after tomorrow. My father was stunned, and the beads of sweat on his body were as still as grains of wheat. My father wiped my forehead with a towel, as if to chase away my wet exhaustion. Soon, he urged, "Go home and rest!"Don't be tired, the college entrance examination is what you should do. Gather your wheat, that old man can't help you. ”
My father began to cut the wheat again, and poured his apologies for me on the wheat. If I encounter amnesty, I will quickly slip away in the name of preparing for the college entrance examination.
The sun was baking the wheat field, and my father was standing, like a huge ear of wheat, covered with round beads of sweat, as full as wheat, scorching and stinging my eyes. Wheat is my father's sweat, and I am the biggest of them.
Just as the wheat field is my father's battlefield alone, the college entrance examination is my wheat field alone. Watching my classmates being surrounded by their parents and walking towards the exam room, I didn't have the slightest jealousy or complaint. I'm not alone, my father and I are fighting side by side from my hometown to the small town. I followed my father's example, using the pen as a sickle and the ink as wheat, wielding freely in my wheat field.
That year, I was admitted to a major university. After that, I went to school, worked, and wandered all the way. I have never forgotten that I am a wheat plant rushing to take the exam, and what I want to gain is not fame, but to return my father's expectations to the warehouse.