That year, the smoke from my hometown was floating like clouds.
At noon, my father walked home, dragging himself covered in mud. This sun! My father murmured in his heart.
"Come back?" The mother handed the towel to the father.
"Well, let's drink some water first." My father walked to the water tank, filled a bowl of cold water with a spoon, and poured it into his stomach with a gurgle.
I was young at that time and ran around the house every day. When my father carries a pile of farm tools into the courtyard, I run faster than my mother every time.
"Girl, are you watching me drink water again?" My father smiled at me with beads of sweat. "Is it sweet? Dad." I put my hands on the edge of the jar and giggled, bending my head.
"Sweet, very sweet, like eating marshmallows." Dad laughed again.
So from that day on, I remembered the taste of marshmallows and wanted to eat marshmallows in my dreams. Later, when I went to school, I saw mobile vendors selling beautiful cotton balls at the entrance of the school. The classmates said it was marshmallows. Marshmallow? I couldn't resist the temptation and bought a small ball with my spare coins to eat. It's really sweet and fragrant.
On the way home, I kept thinking about my father's intoxicated appearance. My father said the water in the tank smelled like cotton candy. Is this true? Could it be that the marshmallows have changed?
I crossed the narrow field ridge eagerly. I didn't see my father walking, but I saw my mother holding a bamboo pole and chasing the ducks along the river pond.
I opened the door to my house, threw down my schoolbag and jumped to the water tank in the yard. I am short and cannot see the shadow of the water when I stand on tiptoe. I brought a chair and stood on it, and finally saw the puddle of marshmallow water that my father had almost finished.
"You don't want to die?" My mother came in at some unknown time and shouted when she saw my head hidden in the vat.
I later said to my mother: "Without your cry, I might not have fallen into the jar, nor would I have understood that the water in the jar didn't taste like marshmallows at all."
My father picked me up wet from the jar in panic, mumbling what he wanted to say. Then I saw my father scooping up a ladle of water and drinking it. The way my father drank the water didn't look good at all. Of course, I didn't dare ask if the water in the tank was sweet, because I already knew that the water was not marshmallow-flavored.
My mother, who was still in shock, changed me into dry clothes and went to the main room. I never expected that she would go find the bamboo pole used to chase ducks and beat me.
"What are you doing? Put it down!" The father threw the water ladle and shouted.
"If I don't hit her today, she will fall into the vat tomorrow." The mother said angrily.
I was so frightened that I hid in the gap between two water tanks.
"Come out!" my father shouted to me. From the cracks in the jar, I saw my father's face was ashen and his veins were trembling.
"If you don't come out, I'm going to smash the vat!" My father's voice was very loud.
I had no choice but to come out. I thought my father would never hit me, because he had never hit me before, and he had just stopped my mother's bamboo pole. But I soon felt something bad. My father's eyes were moving around, obviously looking for the guy who hit me.
Sure enough, my father was rummaging around in the corner filled with farm tools. For the first time, he picked up a thick bamboo stick and walked up to me, which scared me half to death. The second time he changed to a carrying pole and walked up to me again. I cried and begged for mercy. The third time he picked up a straw hat, I burst into laughter. However, my father still did not fight. What surprised me at this time was that my father was squatting on the ground and desperately pulling out a blade of grass. What's the point of pulling weeds? I looked at my father blankly.
"Stand still!" My father stood up and ordered me.
I was obedient and stood respectfully.
With a gust of wind blowing across his neck, the father said the punishment was over. It turned out that my father hit me in the face with that piece of grass. I touched my face with my hand. A little itchy.
At night, my father came to my bedside and asked, "Girl, does it hurt?"
I burst into tears and hugged my father tightly.
"Children cannot drink raw water, otherwise they will get sick." My father said to me with a smile.
"Today I bought marshmallows to eat. Didn't dad say that the water in the tank tastes like marshmallows?" I said sadly.
"Dad lied to you."My father looked at me blankly.
I was in college the year my father passed away. One day, I received an urgent telegram informing me that my father was critically ill. I took the train overnight and rushed back to my hometown.
My father had been waiting for me. He squeezed my hand with tears on the hospital bed. But my father's hand was cold.
"Dad... I only beat you... once in my life. "My father gasped.
"You...have never been beaten even once. "I was so moved that I burst into tears. My mother was crying silently on the side. "Dad, do you still remember this? I brought it back. "I took out a small cloth bag from my schoolbag and opened it layer by layer. "A straw? "Everyone around was astonished.
I gently placed the piece of grass on my father's palm, then I put my own hand on it, and then put my father's five fingers together...
