Hardship and happiness coexist

Still remember that afternoon, full of your busy figure, you keep working, your hard sweat, my happy tears, splashed wet that part of the heart.
Another weekend, lunchtime, as usual. When you eat, you suddenly open your mouth and say with a serious face, “Nobody can go out to play today. Go and help your father catch up with the goods.” I was silent, thinking, anyway, the homework has been finished, nothing to do, it would be better to go.
I pulled up my brother and dragged him past. Mom worked hard, but now she has given up her rare nap to help Dad catch up with the goods.
Into the workshop where Dad works, it is a small dusty room, divided into two small rooms, one side is to make a color board, the other side is to pack. On the other side of the color plate, there is a relatively large grinder. The wall next to the grinder is a faucet and several barrels. The ground was covered with sewage. There is also a big table in the middle, on which hangs a large ceiling fan covered with dust. On the packaging side, there are many tables next to the wall, piled with finished products. On both sides of the door were neat cartons. And there’s only one big fan on this side. The chairs were few, scattered, the doors were rotten, and the dust was clearly visible under the light.
Mother is making a shading board over there. She wore a waterproof apron and water shoes on her feet. Put it on, put it away, polish and rinse it. With such skillful methods, it will be finished in a flash. Under the lamplight, I looked at my mother’s rough skin, short fingers, and even some yellowing hands. I don’t know if it’s because of the light. Fingers are also somewhat damaged. Mother stood upright, sweat on her forehead flowed down both sides of her face, the wrinkles in her eyes, under the guidance of sweat beads, it was obvious that sweat had been slowly flowing down, drawing out a trace of old on her face. The original large number of palettes, there is only a small pile left.
Suddenly, the same hands are in my mind, but they are holding the motorcycle. Just turned to winter, the weather is also somewhat cold, the cold wind blowing, the face was sanded by the cold wind, came bursts of stinging pain. It’s dark after dusk, but I have to rush back to school. I’ve missed the last bus. There’s no bus to take me back to school. You said, “Let me drive you back to school by motorcycle.” I’m a little overwhelmed. It’s troublesome for you, but I have to go back to school and hesitate. You look at my hesitant expression and, without saying a word, push the motorcycle out. Still stunned, you shouted at me, “Come on! It’s very late!” I went over in a daze and got on the motorcycle. “With or without a scarf? You asked me gently. I shook my head. You said nothing, put on gloves and covered the yellowing hands. Have you sat down? “Come on,” you shouted, and with a huh, you set off. About 30 kilometers long, you insisted on driving me by motorcycle. At the beginning of the road, there were no street lights. Trees on both sides of the road covered most of the sky, making it even darker. There were some withered leaves on the ground, and some were swept up by the wind. The sky was full of colours. After the car was run over, the sky was covered with dust and withered leaves. The wind and sand rushed to my face, but you withstood me with your broad back. I feel a little sad. All the way forward, the sound of motorcycle walking, the sound of wind blowing, the sound of car whirring in my ears. There is no car in my house. There was a faint yellow light in front of me, and street lights appeared on both sides of the road sometime. I quietly spread out my palm, and a light fell on my palm. You suddenly asked me, “Is it cold?” I shook my head, tears in my eyes. Trees on both sides were retreating. The cold wind blew more unbridled, the leaves rustled down and blew a little cruel. I couldn’t help crying and crying on your back. You didn’t notice it. At last I arrived at the school gate, and I was in tears. I really hope that one day, like them, my parents will drive them to school in a car. The hand secretly wiped a tear before getting out of the car. You look at my eyes red, startled, said: “This weather, it is strange, the previous few days were warm, suddenly cold up, see, eyes are blown red, ask you to take more clothes is troublesome, sleep in school do not know how you sleep, so cold cover so thin as a tablecloth quilt…”
“Yao, move this over” is my mother’s voice. My thoughts are still in my memory. You look at me absent-minded and say, “What do you think? Come and help me!” When I recovered, I moved it silently. Dad went to deliver the goods and came back. Looking at me in silence, he said, “Why don’t you say anything? Usually a lot of things to say ah! By the way, pack it with your brother.” I laughed, cleared up my mood, and packed it with my brother here, while my parents polished the palette there. In this hard process, happiness also breeds. I put the polished color board on the table and asked my brother to label it. It feels very warm for the whole family.
The palettes, little by little, disappeared on the desktop. The original thick sheet, there are few left. Looking at your figure is no longer like starting to move straight. Obviously, your figure is somewhat bent. Looking at you still keep grinding, the bitterness of the heart surged up. Remembering that I am living well now, all earned by your rough yellow hands, my heart is more distressed; thinking of your dark circles at present, I am even more ashamed that I had so disliked you as a part-time worker before. I often complain, why is my mother a part-time worker? Why is our family not richer than others? Until now, when I finally saw your hard and tired figure, I didn’t realize how happy I was and how happy I was, enjoying the happiness you bought with sweat! Originally, hardship and happiness coexist!