I moved from the county to the main city to work. My unit is far from Huangjueping, where my daughter attended the training. There is no direct bus, and the journey takes about one and a half hours. In order to see my daughter often, I rented a house in the middle of my daughter's school and my unit.
I carried my belongings into a room only a few square meters overnight, and suddenly I found that the things on the bed were not neat. It was mid-October, and it was raining continuously, so I didn't dare to make do with it rashly, so I got on the bus to Huangjueping. On the phone, I told her that I was going to spend the night in her dormitory, so I hung up in a hurry. Scenes of the past flashed in front of us again with the rotation of the wheel.
My daughter has been a little girl who loves beauty since she was a child. She likes to wear beautiful clothes with personality and enjoy herself in the mirror. Food is also her favorite. When I was two or three years old, I was keen on painting when my small hands were still unable to hold the pen. At the age of eight, in order to learn painting, she stubbornly dragged me to send her to an art class. Considering that learning art would cost a lot of money, and thinking that she was just on a whim, I dare not promise her easily. She cried and made up her mind to me that she would not give up painting easily. In a blink of an eye, my daughter is 16 years old and in the third year of high school. What is rare is that she is determined and still regards painting as the happiest thing. She is determined to enter the Academy of Fine Arts, and this summer, she began to study in the art training school for specialized courses before the exam.
when I arrived at my daughter's training school, it was already ten o'clock at night, just as the class was over, and the students walked out of the school gate one after another. When I saw my daughter didn't come out, I stood in front of the exhibition board and enjoyed the students' art works and teachers' comments.
My daughter's two female classmates recognized me, greeted me warmly and took me upstairs to find my daughter. I declined their kindness, because I knew there were still many students in the classroom who had not finished walking, and my daughter didn't like them to see me. After reading the exhibition board, my daughter has not been seen, and my daughter's phone can't be dialed. I went upstairs and saw my daughter waving her little black hands and cheerfully explaining the composition of a painting to two students. When she saw me, she stopped speaking, pulled me out, and scolded me for rushing into the studio so that other students could not see it well.
seeing my daughter doesn't seem to welcome me very much, I feel a little unhappy and don't know what to say. My daughter put the brush box and sketch clip into my hand, washed her hands under the faucet in a hurry, and turned to me and said, "When you called me, I was taking an exam, and I didn't catch what you said on the phone at all. After I put down the phone, my painting hand couldn't feel it." Hearing that my daughter seemed to blame me for being an unexpected guest, I felt very guilty: "I shouldn't have called you in class …" My daughter changed the subject when she saw that I had admitted my mistake: "Mom, did you have dinner? I was too busy to have dinner. " I know, in order to save money to buy painting tools, my daughter often eats dinner and supper together, and loses five or six pounds in less than a month.
It's almost eleven o'clock at night, and the child hasn't eaten dinner yet. How can a mother not feel bad? "What do you want to eat? Mom will take you to eat something good!" At that moment, I filled up the big money.
my daughter took me to a noodle restaurant, but fortunately, the boss hasn't closed the stall yet. My daughter ordered a bowl of vegetarian Daoxiao Noodles, steaming hot, and ate it quickly. I carefully studied the way my daughter wolfed down and was burned several times, and I felt a burst of emotion inexplicably in my heart. My daughter has always been a lady, and she is very picky and meticulous in eating. I have never seen her eat in such a hurry.
At the same time, I also found that my daughter, who has always attached great importance to image, has changed. There are obvious marks of pencil ash on her cheeks and chin. I laughed that she has turned into a black-faced cat. She didn't mind at all, and didn't even take out a small mirror and wipe it with a paper towel as quickly as before. I know my daughter is used to getting her face dirty in intense training. Suddenly I exclaimed, "Why is your arm bleeding?" She smiled at me calmly but strangely: "There is nothing wrong with a little blood, don't worry." I suddenly realized and smiled: "that's the paint I got when I was painting!" Scared me. " Then she held out her slender and beautiful little hands. She pointed out the marks made by the pencil sharpener and the calluses worn by the penholder one by one. The small hands became a little rough, the palms and fingers turned gray-black, and her long nails were dyed with pigment: "No matter how you wash these hands, you have to draw with strokes after washing them. From eight o'clock in the morning to early morning, you are almost dealing with brushes except eating." I asked her why she didn't cut off her nails, and she said that she always liked to draw with her long nails against the drawing paper. It was a good feeling, and she couldn't find it after cutting it. "Then keep it!" Seeing the price my daughter paid for her favorite career, I stopped objecting to her having long nails for the first time.
Under the streetlight, my daughter took me by the arm with her little black hand and walked to her residence.
on the way, I wanted to buy some fruit for her, but she stopped me. I wanted to buy some snacks for her to put in the dormitory, and she didn't agree. I wonder how my daughter, who has always liked snacks, suddenly lost interest in delicious food.
Back in the dormitory, my daughter didn't rush to wash, but picked up the sketch books of her classmates in the upper bunk, read them carefully, sharpened two pencils and copied them. Then I remembered my daughter said that she had to finish some sketches every night when she came back from class.
I picked up the white plush dog left out in the corner by my daughter and played with it. I couldn't help laughing: "How come this puppy's face has a gangster road made by pencil ash!" "This puppy has the same black mouth as you!" Several girls in my roommate made fun of the only daughter who belongs to a dog and likes to play with dog toys, but the daughter who has always been ruthless just laughed and didn't react too much to their "provocation". The dark little hands didn't stop working on sketch paper, and several lifelike characters were instantly active in her pen.
When I look at the painting and then at my daughter with a happy smile, I feel that her dirty little face is extraordinarily beautiful and lovely.