I played with my children when I was a child. I accidentally hurt myself and my blood dripped on the ground. I cried in pain. I finally got home. Without saying anything, my mother picked me up with her strong big hands, wrapped me in her arms and went straight to the hospital. At this moment, the cold wind is no longer rampant, completely blocked by these big hands. It is so warm and comfortable in my mother's arms. But the cold wind didn't stop, and it did its best to erode these big hands. I can't help looking at those hands. Although they were red and cracked by the cold wind, they were still so strong that I fell asleep in her arms unconsciously.
At the end of the semester, when other students rushed home with "trophies" in their hands, I wandered around the campus empty-handed, and tears of disappointment overflowed from my eyes. At this time, my father appeared, stroking my head gently with his big hand and comforting: "son, I know you have tried your best." Those hands are still stroking my head, which makes my heart warmer. The tears that have just fallen have been melted by my father's warm big hand. I am no longer sad, but my whole body is full of strength and my young mind has been purified.
When I secretly climbed into my father's car and played on it, I accidentally touched the handbrake, only to see the car slowly moving forward and approaching a big pit in front. I felt the danger coming, so I quickly opened the door and jumped out of the car. When my father saw it, he ran to me. I was so scared that my legs seemed to be filled with lead that I couldn't run. My father had just run a few steps when he heard a bang and the car fell into the pit and stopped. At this moment, my father picked me up. He didn't care about his car, just kept comforting me, and kept stroking my head in shock with his big hand, asking me if I was hurt. The fear just now suddenly disappeared. I looked at the car in the pit and it was already scarred. ...
When I went astray and sneaked into the Internet cafe to surf the Internet, my mother suddenly appeared next to me and dragged me out stiffly without saying a word, no matter how I shouted. I was dragged to my door, and my mother held a strong arm high. I closed my eyes in fear! Strangely, after waiting for a long time, my hand still didn't fall on me. I slowly opened my eyes and found that my mother's hand didn't know when to put it down. She sighed. "Son, when will you live up to expectations?" Then she patted me on the shoulder with her hand. Although it was a pat, my heart could not settle down. It seems to warn me not to go astray. Since then, I have never been to an Internet cafe.
Now, in my opinion, my parents' hands are not broad and strong, but so thin, but they still have a kind of strength, a great strength.
This kind of power is like spring rain, dripping into people's hearts.
This kind of power is like a tide, and what is surging is true feelings.
This power is sunshine, which shines brightly and warms people's hearts.
This power has always been in the hands of my parents, accompanying me to grow up.