After my father left, the house in my hometown was locked for ten years.
Ten years ago, my father died. That year, my family's house was locked, and I left my hometown to start a life of hard work. My father is gone, and the house in my hometown seems to have become an isolated island that no one cares about, quiet and strange.
Memories and Forgetting: Memories of Fathers.
My father was an unpretentious, simple and kind man. I was deeply impressed by his every move. However, time passed quietly unconsciously, and some memories gradually blurred, and sometimes even my father's face became a little blurry when I tried to recall. How are memories forgotten? This made me think deeply.
Changes in the House: The Imprint of Time and the Story.
Ten years have passed, and the house in my hometown must have changed. A house that carries the laughter, tears and stories of the family, and also bears witness to the traces of time. Perhaps, the swallows under the eaves have flown away, and the fruit trees in the yard have been destroyed by time, but what is the story of these changes?
Discovery and Reflection: A Decade of Inner Journey.
In the past ten years, I have experienced too many ups and downs, and every fall is an understanding of life. Looking back, I realize that I have matured a lot during these ten years, and I have learned to draw strength from my father's death and face the ups and downs of life positively. This process of growth has given me a clearer understanding of my inner self.
The meaning of home: a new understanding of family affection and growth.
It wasn't until my father left that I realized what it meant to be home. It's not just the house, it's the affection and warmth. Home is a kind of emotional home, but also the sustenance of the soul. In the nourishment of this family affection, I also gradually grew up and became an independent and strong individual.
Regaining and remembering: a vision of the future.
Walking into the house of my hometown and opening the doors and windows that had been closed for a long time seemed to reopen the door of memories left to us by my father. With gratitude, I began to re-examine my own growth process, remembering the kindness of my father's love, and also thinking about the direction of the future. Perhaps, the meaning of home is constantly being redefined, and I will carry the warmth of home and move forward bravely.