A drop of sweat landed cooked a seed, my father told me that the golden rice Road, how much you gather sweat, such as the river? Like a river? Such as the sea?
A white hair, a care, my mother, tell me, your silver hair, condensed how much you care, hundred? Thousands? 000 copies?
When I was in the classroom, maybe my father shuffled his oxen on the slopes, maybe he was wielding a sickle and struggling hard in the golden paddy fields ... Maybe my mother was washing me in the cold water Clothes, perhaps finishing the warm home ...
It made me realize that even if you are a vigorous eagle, you will never be able to fly away from the love of your parents. Even if you are a sailing boat that sails long distances, Go further, you can not go out of your kind eyes. No matter what I fly high, are still under your blue sky and white clouds. On our way to life, no matter how far we go and how far we go, we all need to go through bridges carefully constructed by our parents.
