Then, a deep sense of guilt slowly spread in my heart.
It is necessary to write a letter to the soldiers in northern Liaoning who are far away from home. But now that I'm a little old and an officer, I always feel that I have nothing to say to my father who is a farmer. The so-called letter from home is actually just a routine report of peace. My father is very serious. Not only did he seriously reply to every letter I wrote about my safety, but he also took the initiative to write to me every once in a while. Father's letter is very short, usually no more than one page, sometimes only three or five sentences, just telling me that everything is fine at home, I have to learn to take care of myself and so on.
(4) Father's letter is casual and careless. Sometimes the paper he wrote seems to be picked up casually, with irrelevant handwriting in front and several instructions behind it. Moreover, there seems to be no pen that can really be used at home, so my father can use whatever he can find, so there are often all kinds of handwriting in my letters. I once reminded my father not to write with a red pen, but he still stuck to his guns. Comrades are often very excited when they read letters from home, and they can't be calm for a long time, but I seldom feel this way when I read my father's letters. My father seems to have written these letters by accident. From the letter, I can't seem to read the warmth of home, and I can't read whether my family misses me. I always read my father's letters calmly, like reading some sentences that have nothing to do with me, and then put them away. Pay attention to the first few letters when my father visited my home. I jokingly mentioned my father's letter to my mother, hoping that my mother would tell my father that if nothing happened, I wouldn't have to write often. In my opinion, my father's meaningless letter is not worth the postage. My mother's answer was beyond my expectation: "Your father has become a habit to write these things. If he doesn't write to you then, he will feel that he has lost you. " Like you lost me? I can't help wondering, something indescribable rises in my heart.
I accidentally looked through my father's special drawer and found a stack of envelopes. There is a stamp on each envelope with my name on it. I casually arranged the envelopes in a long string. At this moment, I can't help but burst into tears: I am already a kite in the sky, and I may never come back; But the father is pulling a long line with a letter to know where his children are flying!
Simple version: my father's love for me is simple, simple, casual and natural, and at the same time it is everywhere. This simple and subtle, plain and meaningful love together will not make the gods cry, but it has become a thin long line tied to my flying kite, so that I can never leave the root of "home".