mont blanc pen Me and my dad 's story _800 someone, husband, together, him

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me and my dad's story
long, long time did not think of my dad, and since he became someone else's husband, someone's father. i love him once, i know hindsight is no right or wrong in life, there is only one step wrong, wrong step, go back also escape. i still love him, love him once.

who is the father loves me, he had only one daughter at the time. some memories are vague and incomplete, but pieced together with a little imagination, it was able to complete. probably has those things might have been if a girl is said to be a girl should be so is my own.

childhood, and perhaps curious, cried early on to go to preschool, when our village is not kindergarten, only one-year preschool. i remember just learning to write numbers had never been seen, each wrote 8 will be very tangled. above a circle, following a circle, not a big top, is the following small, and finally as big as two circles, and then off, and the middle cross a draw, ugly not pull grumble. 8 ran out of the room to ask my dad how to write the word in the end. i was probably more stupid, i wrote my dad a look of 8 on the music, so hand holding my hand first clockwise and then counterclockwise a written, and neat and beautiful. 8 but the word that i really learned a long time, quite impressed.

the third grade when the family moved to the county. although re-read, homework or feel very difficult, probably a bit stupid really. once assignments are to write a letter, i shamelessly refused to write is not. my dad can not, can only hand surgeon wrote a i copied one side while muttering, how long, pulling a long letter. pay up the next day is also scared to want to write too good to be a teacher praised me not to be frank and honest children. results of the teacher never even mentioned that job, but rather the next examination, i wrote a fan read out. i went back with my dad one that my dad embarrassed face, said:

about fourth grade, there is a job is not done, i am refusing to go to school, and even refused to eat breakfast. my dad repeated assurances that eating breakfast accompany me to school, i finally agreed to stepping on a bike bag and willing to follow my dad's motorcycle to eat breakfast. i bike to breakfast before the other shop, my dad call me noodles and soup has come up, so i finished eating he would pay the money away. this time my dad and so i finished with the bike's speed motorcycle to accompany me to school teachers explain the situation. probably say that i was sick so did not finish the job so that teachers do not blame the class, i remember the teacher looked at me meaningfully, almost to a guilty conscience, i started crying. go before, my dad took under my head,mont blanc pen, it should perhaps really helpless about it, there is such a daughter.

my hair is very long fourth grade, i once lived my mother was sick grandmother. i have no one to tie up the hair, their hair will not be playing for a long time. more smug about that time, know care about the image, and also shamelessly refused to go to school. i forgot what my dad expression, just remember that he did not hesitate to pick up the comb threw my hair. i looked in the mirror i remember my dad clumsy hands, but also look dislike saying fortunately my dad has been very good temper, he did not get angry i can remember. finally, i wore two bulky braids obediently went to school.

started when the boarding school in the suburbs, once a week to return home. sometimes my dad to pick, take the bus back most of their own. once the school to do a photo exhibition of specimens and to require each student to go back with some samples or picture exhibitors. back, and one that my dad, asking him to take me to do to catch dragonfly specimens. my dad is powered by, there are a lot of field work, wind and rain very hard. i face death with him depends on the belt to work, no way to end my dad took me to work. but he put me to the power of the fling, said outside the sun too much, he came back to me when it wants to catch one. evening my father came back empty-handed, i pouted loudly asked him: my dad did not conclude that the catch of the catch, also plausibly say plus a silent protest hunger strike, my dad defeated defeated, to accompany me to cut a lot of pictures as the job handed. but in the end still did not show those pictures to.

remember to cut off here, and this, he no longer belongs to me. i think i am heartless, i do not know what to record these in the end. that i have is the daughter of beloved people, or would like a little heart that i still have a little lungs, and i do not know. in any case,montblanc pen, in january 1, 2010 on this day, i really miss my dad is crazy, the memory of that father.