Forty years ago, although my father worked in a county construction company, he ate the "commodity grain" envied by the villagers. But he never left the soil for a day. In the evening after work, or on holidays or holidays, he picked up a hoe and helped his mother to take care of the "responsible field".

As far as I can remember, he rode that "February 28th" bicycle to work in the city early every morning and didn't come back until evening, which is what I hope most. My father smiled and walked through the warm sunset, pedaled to my door, and took off the canvas bag on the frame as soon as he stopped. Sometimes it was candy and sometimes it was delicious food on the table. This scene became the warmest memory of my childhood.

at that time, my family and another family in the village shared an old house with a patio. There were two rows of wing rooms, four rooms across the hall, and two rooms in my house, which were used for the hall. There is a room for my two parents and a room for my brother and sister. The room looks cramped and dark because of the clutter. The columns and beams are gray and black, and the walls are white and gray, revealing mottled primary color adobe. You can climb to the attic along the wooden ladder in the old house. When I was a child, it was a treasure trove for me to play hide-and-seek with my friends. I heard from my mother that the old house was given to my grandparents during the land reform, but my parents died when my father was a teenager and left them to my father. Those days were barren and warm, and although the house was so small, it was full of laughter from my brother and me. Later, with the birth of my sister, my father sprouted the idea of building another new house, but my father's salary was not high, and my mother earned just enough food and clothing for her family of five. Building a new house can only be a dream hidden in my father's heart.

and this dream seems to be more out of reach because of an accident. When I was in the third grade of primary school, my father accidentally fell off the scaffold on the construction site and broke his arm. My home was like half the sky collapsed. My strong mother was calm on the surface, taking care of her father in hospital while busy with farm work, but I saw her hiding in the door and secretly wiping her tears several times.

After my father recovered from his injury, his arm could not be fully stretched and he could not do heavy work, so the company made him a doorman, but his salary was much lower. At that time, the east wind of reform and opening up had already blown to our small mountain village, where fields were divided into households. Therefore, every time the farm is busy, my mother has to ask someone to plow the land. Seeing the villagers' faces too much, my father, who never asked for help, bought a cow cruelly. He never touched the plow. He held the heavy and unruly plow with his disabled right hand and appeared in the surprised eyes of the villagers. The plow was crooked from the beginning to the end as straight as a line. In a few years, my father's ploughing skills made the villagers pay tribute.

in order to carry out the grand plan of building a new house as soon as possible, my father and mother worked harder to prepare and were busy all day and night. In addition to planting three acres of paddy fields and three acres of dry land, my mother also reclaimed a small piece of wasteland on the beach at the foot of the mountain and planted peanuts, cotton and soybeans. My father rushes to the field as soon as he gets off work every day. In the eyes of the villagers, this person who eats "public meals" is no different from a cultivator who gets up in the dark. My sister-in-law and I also began to help the family share the housework. Every morning, I get up early to cook. As soon as I leave school late or have a rest day, I will pick the well water (at that time, there was a big water tank in every kitchen), or I will cut wood and play pig grass with my friends. The younger brother is in charge of herding cattle, once in the morning and once in the evening, so that the cows will be full of liver and abdomen. When farming is busy, we help adults weed, pick cotton, pull peanuts and pick peanuts, and even young sisters follow adults and learn to do farm work in a decent way. During the "double snatch", we were indispensable in cutting rice, picking rice, threshing, pulling out seedlings and planting grain. By the time I was in high school, I was not even inferior to adults in cutting rice and planting grain, so I could be regarded as a strong worker in my family.

My family's life has gradually improved, and with the children growing up year by year, my father decided to start his dream-to build a building in the open space behind the old house. Build the bottom layer first, and then rebuild the second layer when conditions permit. In order to save the cost of buying gravel, my sister-in-law and I went to the back of the village to pick up pebbles every day that summer vacation, and then stumbled home. In addition to pouring concrete beams and columns, my father asked someone for help. In other words, he took advantage of his work break to build a nest with his mother like a swallow, and finally built the first floor of his new home.

My father's plan to build a second floor was delayed because he owed money for building a house, and later he had to raise college tuition for me. What made him feel more relaxed was that after graduating from high school and junior high school, his younger brothers and sisters went to Guangdong to work and began to send money home from the south. In the third year after I worked, the second floor of the new house was finally built, and my father's dream of a new house was finally realized. In the following years, my father decorated the house one after another, plastered marble on the ground, whitewashed the walls, added various kinds of furniture and appliances, and even pasted tiles on the exterior wall. My father looked at his masterpiece standing at the head of the village, and the smile on his face stretched like never before.

Five years ago, my father retired, and under the repeated urging of our brother and sister, my parents gave the paddy field to others to plant, but they still planted more than three acres of dry land, and prevaricated our urging on the grounds of "planting dry land saves trouble" and "being idle, you can exercise yourself at any number of points". We thought our parents could spend their old age safely, but the overworked mother suffered from malignant diseases, cervical spondylosis and lumbar disc herniation. Last year, I made an appointment with my sister-in-law to go home for the Spring Festival. I set out from the Yangtze River thousands of miles away, and my sister set out from the south. When she was working, she met and fell in love with a young man from Guangdong and formed a happy family. My brother also went home last year and opened a car decoration shop in the city, ending the days of working outside. My mother looked at her children, daughter-in-law and her grandchildren sitting around the table, smiling brightly, but said sadly with tears, "You are all older, and you don't have to worry about food and clothing at home. If you don't get these diseases, life will be very difficult." I advised her: "Now that medicine is so developed, there is nothing to see." Father interjected: "Look at you, after acupuncture and massage, you also said that your neck and waist are less painful."

a country has been reforming and opening for forty years, and my family is a microcosm of the changes in these forty years. My father kept running on the road to realize his dream of housing, and kept on moving forward, including the pain and struggle of chasing dreams, and the happiness and sweetness of dreams coming true. In these forty years, father and mother have been caring for each other, watering their days with sweat and raising their children with painstaking efforts. They are just one of thousands of ordinary parents in Qian Qian, but they are pulling my family from poverty to prosperity like diligent cows, and they are thousands of them in Qian Qian, pulling a country from poverty to prosperity. ;