Flowers bloom and fall, and how many warm stories are staged in it; How many warm stories have gone away with the long-flowing water. On this energetic day, how many people are silently warming you? In my eyes, everything my parents gave me can't be compensated in this life. In particular, their care, love and attention cannot be bought with money. Growing up in warmth, I deeply realized this.
On the threshold of my memory, I will never forget: one day in the summer vacation, when my mother and I were cleaning the room, because of my carelessness, we didn't grasp the handle of the chair, so that we fell from the high cabinet and hit our chin on the marble at the corner of the table. Suddenly blood spilled out and dyed the collar of my dress red. My mother turned white when she heard running from the next room and saw me like this. But she immediately realized something, took out a lot of marshmallows from the medicine box, blocked my wound and sent me to the hospital at once.
At this time, my father is having a meeting in Ningbo. When he learned the news, he drove to the hospital quickly. Because my father is not around, my mother's burden is particularly heavy. I know she is actually more nervous and heartbroken than I am. At that time, I thought it would be okay to apply some medicine and wrap it up. Who knows, the doctor said that the wound must be stitched up with a needle. Because the incision is too big and there is much bleeding, it will have a bad effect. It's horrible to think about sewing with needles, let alone experiencing it personally.
Looking at the needle that the nurse used to sew the wound, my heart beat faster and the air seemed to be at that moment. When the doctor raised the needle and began to sew up my injured chin, my mother's warm hand gripped me tightly. At this time, a feeling of stability and calmness came to my mind, and my heart slowly relaxed. I know that my mother's warm big hand holds my hand tightly here, and my father's comforting words are closely connected with me there. I am warm and happy. I didn't cry at that time, because I felt the warmth from my parents at this dangerous moment far from the edge of life and death.
By the time my father arrived at the hospital, my wound had been stitched up and put on gauze. Seeing my father, I threw myself into his arms. Maybe now I realize the fear atmosphere in the infirmary. Maybe I have never experienced such a thing, and I am very wronged. In my father's arms, I shed tears that I have endured for a long time. My father looked at me with a smile, and his rough but warm hand brushed my cheek: "Silly child, don't cry. It's all over, isn't it? " Yes, everything has passed, everything will pass, but for everything my parents have paid, I hope it will not pass and be preserved forever. After that, my father painted me with liquid medicine and changed gauze every day. It's hot in summer, and my father is afraid that my wound is inflamed. He cleans my wound every day and never delays a little time. Due to the careful care of my father, when the stitches were removed, the doctor said that the wound had healed and grew well.
Warm, do not need to use beautiful words to describe, do not need to use exquisite brush to carve, but still bright and dazzling. A classmate's progress, a teacher's sincere greetings and a friend's warm help all make you feel warm. And do you still remember the sincere warmth of too many parents?