人生的赛场上,多少人被繁华蒙蔽了双眼,迷乱了脚步。但我是幸运的,我能看见那湛蓝的天空,能听懂花开的声音,能感受那微小的确实的幸福。记忆中,爸爸总是不苟言笑,山一般地沉默着。我感受不到所谓的父爱,印象里只有他古板的观念、严肃的表情、严厉的训斥。所以,我常常羡慕那些被慈父宠爱的女孩儿。一个严冬的凌晨,天空还未睁开惺忪的睡 Life on the court, how many people were blinded by the bustling eyes, confused pace. But I was fortunate, I can see the blue sky, can understand the sound of flowers, can feel the slight indeed happiness. Memory, father always unsmiling, mountain general silence. I can not feel the so-called fatherly love, the impression that only his old-fashioned concept, serious expression, harsh reprimand. So, I often envy those who are loved by the benevolent girl. A winter’s early morning, the sky has not opened its sleepy