父亲的手布满老茧,褶皱的皮肤就像饱经风霜的老树皮,但暴起的青筋却展示着它的力量。在我咿呀学语时,他就喜欢牵着我到处游玩。那是我的快乐时光。初入学堂,我调皮捣蛋,邻居总是上门告状。他没有过多责怪,而是摸几下我的头,让我跟着他去工地看他干活。那是我难忘的记忆。渐渐地,我习惯了他的手搭在我的肩上。高考失利那年,我伤心不已。父亲拍了拍我的肩膀:“当兵去吧!” My father’s hand is full of calluses, the wrinkled skin is like the weather-beaten bark, but the violent blue veil shows its strength. He liked to take me around for fun when I was babbling. That is my happy hour. Into the school, I mischievous, neighbors always come to notice. He did not blame too much, but touched my head a few times, let me follow him to the site to see him work. That is my unforgettable memory. Gradually, I got used to his hand resting on my shoulder. In the year of the college entrance examination, I was very sad. Father patted my shoulder: “Soldier go!”