My father is an out-and-out farmer. He cultivates this yellow land day after day and year after year, always leaving early and returning late. Father protects his 9 children with his powerful arms; Father stroked his nine children with his rough hands; Father touched his nine children with his kind face. His love, his smile and his actions are invisible. In order to maintain the livelihood of the whole family, the father's working back can be seen everywhere. Sometimes, I feel that my father has never rested. His hands have become rough because of labor, and his face has also become vicissitudes. But when I was sick, he brought me steaming food with his rough hands, and his face was full of anxiety. Father is like this, he won't say his love for you, but when he sees you, the love on his face will never change.

My father is strong now. He holds a blue sky for me with his tall and straight body, but what will my father be like in twenty years?

I will grow up in twenty years, but my father will get old. His rough hands will be more rough, his vicissitudes of life will be more vicissitudes, his hands that once lifted the boulder will become weak, and his tall and straight body will slowly bend. Time and tide wait for no man, how old my father is twenty years later. Whenever I think about it, I always feel sad.