The absurdity lies in the fact that after nearly two decades of getting along, the two of us are still bored with each other.
Well, maybe I am tired of him.
I don’t know if it’s like this. He passed middle age and then followed a strong menopause. His extreme and radicalism seemed to endure for more than forty years and then broke out. Obviously maybe it can be content. When I was young, my family moved from a small city to the city I dreamed of. I had a job with a high income and I didn't get bored. After all, I realized most of my dream back then. The home is not big, but it is very warm and comfortable. There are good confidants and relatives who take good care of us. At least this kind of wandering life does not always feel lonely.
I still remember that sentence, this peace of mind is my hometown.
I felt that in such a life, my father should also be content and at ease.
But no, Dad is like Jack in the dream in the story, career, life, material, I don't know when it seems that nothing is enough.
The once vigorous self-confidence eyebrows have fallen from the loneliness of the years, but they began to talk about his sudden awakening ambitions. I kept talking about the decision if I was at the bridge of the year, and I was saying that maybe no matter how hard I tried my career, I could go up to the next level. Saying he has money, he can buy a big house instead of having a family crowded in the small and ruined two-bedroom and one-living room in the urban area.
Then, he finally squeezed the original father away.
There is no weekend when a family goes out to play, there is no Mid-Autumn Festival dinner that is very lively together, there is no walk around the lake after dinner every day, and the delicious soup he burned when he was young to make original fish balls. His lofty ambition was wiped out on his face, but he appeared in the chattering mouth that seemed to be wound up.
Anxiety, restlessness, unrealistic whimsical. These dark shadows entangled him tighter and tighter, and they almost forced us to breathe.
In fact, life is a very simple thing to think of, and mediocrity can only be so many years of cold autumn.
Life is obviously petty bourgeoisie and sentimental, a big meal together, an outing for the whole family, an unexpected anniversary surprise, and then the usual noisy, lively and lively, although sometimes the market can make people Sweet as sweet.
The most memorable thing in life is the clouds of fame and fortune, or the happiness that comes from the sporadic small touches in the turmoil of personnel? Even if there are high-ranking officials, how to stay alone for a lifetime in an empty mansion, it is better to squeeze in a small snail house together with the cherished people to accompany you as you grow old.
Such a simple truth, he has already walked halfway in the corridor of life, why hasn't he understood it?
Maybe it is. If it exists, he never met his mother and was not tired of our family. Instead, he went to another direction of life, a mansion, fame and success, but he was alone.
Then, is he really content?
Or, should I be like the little daughter in the story, and ask him, my father, will he come back?
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