Reading Dongli | Waiting for flowers blooming

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Wait for flowers

Author Su Jian

The days when life is folded, new and old, old and new.

To approach middle age, it is a few landscapes with years. Once we wanted to live as our yearning, but we had to compromise with our lives; once we wanted to hold the light and yin with both hands, but we had to follow the wave. Every day, I can't finish doing things, endless work, and endless hearts, like the camels walking in the vast desert with heavy goods, I dare not stop for a moment. Finally, the "volcano" accumulated in the heart broke out.

That day, my daughter wrote while writing, and I criticized her a few words, but she was still indifferent. I walked and me. I feel that this is a silent protest to me. I yelled. The daughter said with her neck, "I don't like my mother, my mother is a" tyrant '. "After that, the daughter took the door. As the door closed "bang", my heart was stunned.

"Well, get older and look old." The gentleman beside him seemed to say his daughter, and it seemed to say me. I sat on the sofa dumbfounded, looking at the watch on the wall and answered ...

Thinking of her daughter when she was a child, she was looking forward to her mother. As soon as I entered the door, her daughter opened a pair of small hands to hold her mother, naive and cute. I will accompany my daughter to build a block, make origami, teach painting ... The night is coming, and after the lights are turned on, it belongs to me and my daughter's time: I talk about "Nezha", "God's Pen Ma Liang", "Pinocao", "" The stories such as "Andersen's Fairy Tale", "Elephant Small", "Different Camera" and other stories. Sometimes my daughter raised questions and asked me to answer. Sometimes she continued to tell my story. More often she was her. Listening to the story I told, I fell asleep sweetly. The beautiful stories are so on the colorful childhood dreams of their daughters.

Daughter grows up. On the weekend, I rode a bicycle and carried my daughter to sing to the juvenile palace. Although it is hard every time I pick up the child, on the way home, my daughter will sing the new song I learned today, and which kids are singing and running ... Happy all the way, singing all the way.

Time does not speak, years flow, time has grinded the original patience without a trace. I do n’t know when, our mother and daughter have developed to the trend of cold eyebrows and tension. Where is the problem?

On the day of vertical, the sun is shining in the house and warm as spring. The red and bright triangle plums on the balcony, the orange longevity flowers, and the white and elegant orchid blooming. Present in front of my eyes. I found a Ma Zha sitting beside my father and murmured, "A shaking, at the age of forty, my weak shoulders carry the burden of life. The space of myself. The strings in my mind are always tight, especially on the issue of my daughter's education. "

My father didn't seem to hear me talking, and concentrated on rubbing the clivian leaves, and said, "Look, it is a very delicate plant, and only one pair to two pairs of leaves grows a year. When it was raised, some leaves were yellow. When I fell off, I couldn't find the reason. Later, I checked the relevant information and found that Clivia likes to be weakly acidic soil. It turned out that I was poured right. Eggshells make fertilizers, you see the leaves of this pot of Clivia. This pot of pomegranate flowers, I hope to bloom more pomegranate flowers from the top. It's wrong, I cut off all the blooming branches ... "I was surprised, why did my father tell me about these flowers.

In front of them, these square meters of balcony are green, flowers are in full bloom, and more than ten pots of flowers with large and small flowers. The father said: "During the flowering process, because the leaves are not adapted to the temperature, humidity and other environments, the leaves have yellow, rotten roots, and long worms. You are not the same surprise. Raising flowers is the temperament of raising people. "

Oh, I suddenly understood that my father faced the child's growth with his usual heart. world.

I have to learn to be a messenger like my father and wait for flowering.

Text Editing: Jiang Zhimei

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