Following in Bolt's footsteps

Chapter 206 The Wind Blows My Eyes

"Diary of Wu Ziyi"

I haven't kept a diary for a long time. I'm always used to poking around on the screen of my mobile phone. It's a bit rusty to pick up a pen for a while.

On the sixth day of April, people now prefer to call it "No Labor Day". This is a holiday belonging to the proletariat, and workers all over the world have started their holidays.And I, for a long time, always felt that my heart was still in my hometown, beside my father's cemetery.

The father's cemetery is on the sunny hillside to the north of the old house.

When I was a child, I traveled all over the country, but I rarely climbed that mountain. My grandparents never took me to pay respects to my father's tomb. Offerings of the same kind, worship in the direction of the father's resting place.

When I went to study in the city and left home for a long time, my impression of that mountain became even weaker.One year I went to the deep mountains to clean the tomb of my wife and grandmother, and met my mother on the way home. When she mentioned it, I paid attention to it again.

The hill is not high, and it belongs to a protruding hillside in the continuous mountains. There are large areas of pine trees and camellia oleifera trees. Many villagers will go to the woods to collect pine cones and dig turpentine as fuel.The village where my mother lives is on the top of this hill, not too far away, it only needs to walk four or five miles, and it is called "Shangzhai".

Why did you choose your father's cemetery there?This is what my grandma meant. This small hillside is directly facing our village. Grandma hoped that this would allow my father to watch me grow up in the sky.My father is lying on this short hillside, and the road home is very familiar and close, and he can overlook the panorama of the new countryside in his hometown, especially the road that I donated 200 million to build a new road together. The concrete road, I think it will not be too cold and lonely.

It has been twenty years since my father passed away. When I was 15 years old, that is, in the Qingming Festival one year before I was reborn, I followed my grandfather and uncle to visit my father’s grave, and I have never been here since.

Although my mother always texted or called me to tell me that I dreamed about how bad my father was in that world, I never found time to go home and worship.

During the day, I asked my grandma when I could get my father's ashes out. My grandma said that if I could get my father out now, what if she and grandpa went down and couldn't find him?
As I was talking, as I was talking, the figure of the non-existent father that I had never seen appeared in my mind, and I couldn't help but think of the past stories about my father that my grandma and mother said.

Father's life was very short.When he was young, he just finished junior high school and was just a dawdler. Just when the Hong Kong movement was sweeping the mainland, he called himself the "Three Young Masters of Yong'an" with a few friends. He liked to tease young girls in the countryside the most until he met his mother.

In my mother's memory, my father was so romantic and so loving with her. Even though his education was not high, his father still tried his best to make her live happily.In her eyes, her father seemed to be a perfect person, even though she already had a new family, she would still miss him from time to time.The look in her eyes cannot be faked, because no matter in the previous life or in this life, I have seen that look.Every time her father was mentioned, she seemed to turn back into a girl in an instant, with joy and love on her face.

In grandma's memory, my father was just an ordinary rural child. Although he was fond of playing, he was not ambiguous when he started farm work.Like his mother, the father in grandma's mouth is also a very popular and spiritual guy, and he seems to find friends no matter where he goes.

My father didn't do any major things in his life, just like the mountain where he rested after his death, low and inconspicuous.The father's tomb is covered by verdant trees, and no trace of him can be found from any direction, as if he has never walked by.The father's tomb lies quietly under the shade of the tree, only engraved with the date of birth and death and his name, which is inconspicuous, but real, simple, and honest, so that people can see and touch it.

I leaned against my father's tombstone, guarding the generous and serene tranquility of the mountain alone, imagining that my father was still alive, and as a son, I was leaning lightly on his body.

Suddenly, the wind picked up, and the surrounding pine trees swayed gently.It was the voice of my father, the sound of my father breathing!I felt the flapping of my father's lungs opening and closing.Although the sound was extremely soft and thin, it was neither noisy nor polluted at all, peaceful and clear.

I remember the first time I came to pay respects to my father, I really set foot on this low hill step by step with a feeling of solemnity and sadness.But when he walked to his father's tomb, he couldn't cry. The only photo his grandma kept in his hand couldn't be equated with the low tomb in front of him anyway.

I stood upright, my father lay down, I didn't speak, neither did the wind.

After I left, my father still stayed there. I don’t know how many years later he will be invited out by his son, and I don’t know when he will be found by grandma.

Since I was born, I have never had the opportunity to listen to my father's teachings. I don't know what the "mountain-like father's love" is like, and I have never felt the "water-like mother's love".

Fortunately, there were uncles and aunts who filled the vacancy, and let me know that there are really people who love me, people who really care about me, and people who really care about me in this world.

Now, this ordinary father has a son who is an Olympic champion. Although he can't see it with his own eyes, I seem to believe in the "spirit in the sky" that people often say. Is he watching me silently in the sky?

I know that life cannot resist returning to dust.But on the extension line of life, on the road close to death, can I let more people see my burning?
Perhaps in the eyes of many people, I am already on my way to glory, but on the road to the Olympics, there are still many giants who have walked in front of me, and there are still many giants who are still burning today. Torch.

I also hope to be a torch that not only burns myself, but also illuminates the path of others.This road is extremely difficult, the torchlight behind me is still emitting a little bit of light, and the road ahead is still dark. Every time I take a step, I will burn myself more desperately, hoping that I can be brighter, brighter!
It’s not just me who is burning. The torch that was once extremely bright in my heart and the hearts of the Chinese people is also with me. Gradually, more and more torches gather around us.

The road ahead is bright.

The wind dazzled my eyes, and it also made the few sticks of incense burn faster and faster. It turned out to be a bundle of low-quality incense that cost one yuan, and it made me shed tears unconsciously.

　Thank you for the 500 rewards of orange soda sparkling water

　　On the first day after quarantine, I was extremely uncomfortable going to work, and I already had the idea of ​​resigning. After thinking about it, I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t visited my father’s grave for several years, so I wrote this chapter

　　must go back this year
　　
　
(End of this chapter)