总记着那夜。总记着做中医的父亲以他真诚治病的敬业心教我做人的那夜。煤油灯火的小小舌头忽短忽长地吞吐着,将好厚好厚的夜舔破了,屋里铺满了黄亮亮的光焰。我坐在灯前,任父亲暖暖的手把住我握笔的手,在描红本上一横一竖地描摹着。父亲的手时重时轻,而我的手却很沉很沉。父亲的手离开了,我的手便不停地颤抖起来。这时,父亲宽厚而慈祥的目光交织着许许多多微笑的期待。在那温和的目光中,一横、一竖、一撇、一捺,渐渐地 Always remember that night. Always remember to do the father of Chinese medicine to his sincere medical treatment dedicated to teach me that night. Small kerosene lamp light suddenly chaos huff, will be thick thick good night licked, the house covered with bright yellow light flames. I sat in front of the lamp, let my father warm hand hold my hand holding a pen, in the description of a copy of a straight vertical trace. My father’s hand was light and heavy, and my hand was heavy and heavy. My father’s hand left and my hand trembled. At this time, my father’s generous and benevolent eyes intertwined with so many smiling expectations. In that modest gaze, a horizontal, erect, a write, a press, gradually