Any suggestions on topic, grammar? Thank you in advance~^^
I have a custom of 'catching' since my childhood. When I started to walk, I liked chasing the shadow of street lamps. When I joined school, I quested for winning every competition. Every time I came back home with a new certificate, my father always kidded that 'little eagle had caught a prey again.'
Winning used to be my first priority. However, Many times did I protest to my father not to use such metaphor, not to regard my honor as preys, and not to use 'catch' to summarize my achievement. This metaphor was too ruthless and casual because it seemed as if I was an eagle who just swooped down on its prey without any effort. My father neglected all the efforts I had paid to win. For the past years, he never cared about me like other father did. When I cried, he never soothed me but asked me to wash my face. When I fell over, he never lent a hand but asked me to stand up on my own. When I won, he never congratulated me but kidded that I had caught a prey again. I envied my friends who had a father really cared about their study and life. Consequently, the relationship between my father and I was a little distant. I treated my father respectfully as a guest. However, his 'apathy' made me understand I should be strong and independent.
I felt the collapse of my world after a failure in an English competition. I came back home all wet on that rainy day. Like usual, my father just asked me to take a shower and drink some hot water not to catch cold. I stayed in my room alone. The rhythmical sound of the rain made me feel depressed with tears coursing down my cheers unconsciously. I couldn't accept my failure and reminded of those days I had struggled. I didn't attend my grandmother's seventieth birthday but studied alone at home, I gave up the chance of travelling with my family to Sweden but flung myself in supplement materials, I missed the opportunity of meeting my childhood friend but locked myself in the library. All I wanted was to win. My father would never understand the happiness I had sacrificed to win, the efforts I paid to excel others. Perhaps this time he would ridicule me that 'the little eagle failed to catch its prey.' I dashed my tears with the back of my hand just liked an eagle lipped its own wounds.
My father had already gone to work like nothing happened next morning. My hypothesis that he didn't care me was deeply confirmed. But when I sat in front of the table to have my breakfast, a note under my coffee cup with my father's handwriting came into my view.
"My dearest daughter, Life is a circle, no matter it was integrated or fragmentary. There used to be a fairy tale liked this. A fragmentary circle was on its way to travel around the world. Because of its limitation, it couldn't roll that far. But because of its slowness, it could see the cottage standing peacefully in the shelter of sugar maples, hear nightingales singing in unison with the melody of nature and feel the warmth of the setting sun at dusk. One day, this circle changed its mind to be a perfect one. But this time because of its perfectness, it rolled too quickly and meanwhile lost the happiness of enjoying the nature. Remember, winning is not the ultimate goal of life. Questing for perfect is a good thing but it is appreciating and enjoying the scenery on your life journey that gives you a better life. My daughter, I know you are an eagle. Cages can never lock you. That's why I try my best to let you fly even if sometimes you may fall down with pain. The greatest glory of life is not 'never fail' but is the courage to stand up after failure. This is how you can be strong and independent. Fly high but never too fast!"
I was moved. My father opened the cage for me but still stared at me silently. My memory flashed back to the past: My father never said goodbye every time he sent me to school but I still felt the warmth of his vision on my back. My father never asked me to buy any gifts for him when I went abroad but always remembered to send the latest local weather forecast to my cell phone. My father never showed his excitement when I came back from a long trip but just touched my head and said I had grew taller. My recall of the past paused at the scene of one summer afternoon in 1996, I caught my first dragonfly. My father asked me to let it go.
'Let me go' is the unique love my father had for me. He taught me the essence of independence andtold me the right attitude towards life. Now, I realized if I am an eagle, certainly my father is too. We have the same character. Our common personality is imprinted by firmness. The father eagle knows only after thousands of times of practice in the loneliness can the little eagle fly high. For the past seventeen years, I had grown up in the special care of my father. His love is without sound, which is unique and subtle. Now I accept my father's metaphor for me. I am a little eagle. I will carry on our common character to fly independently in the azure sky but still remember to enjoy the amazing scenery around. But the action of 'catch' is no longer ruthless but a careful handle to some extent. Just like the warmest part of this story is my 'catch' of my father's love.
The story of two eagles is to be continued.
I have a custom of 'catching' since my childhood. When I started to walk, I liked chasing the shadow of street lamps. When I joined school, I quested for winning every competition. Every time I came back home with a new certificate, my father always kidded that 'little eagle had caught a prey again.'
Winning used to be my first priority. However, Many times did I protest to my father not to use such metaphor, not to regard my honor as preys, and not to use 'catch' to summarize my achievement. This metaphor was too ruthless and casual because it seemed as if I was an eagle who just swooped down on its prey without any effort. My father neglected all the efforts I had paid to win. For the past years, he never cared about me like other father did. When I cried, he never soothed me but asked me to wash my face. When I fell over, he never lent a hand but asked me to stand up on my own. When I won, he never congratulated me but kidded that I had caught a prey again. I envied my friends who had a father really cared about their study and life. Consequently, the relationship between my father and I was a little distant. I treated my father respectfully as a guest. However, his 'apathy' made me understand I should be strong and independent.
I felt the collapse of my world after a failure in an English competition. I came back home all wet on that rainy day. Like usual, my father just asked me to take a shower and drink some hot water not to catch cold. I stayed in my room alone. The rhythmical sound of the rain made me feel depressed with tears coursing down my cheers unconsciously. I couldn't accept my failure and reminded of those days I had struggled. I didn't attend my grandmother's seventieth birthday but studied alone at home, I gave up the chance of travelling with my family to Sweden but flung myself in supplement materials, I missed the opportunity of meeting my childhood friend but locked myself in the library. All I wanted was to win. My father would never understand the happiness I had sacrificed to win, the efforts I paid to excel others. Perhaps this time he would ridicule me that 'the little eagle failed to catch its prey.' I dashed my tears with the back of my hand just liked an eagle lipped its own wounds.
My father had already gone to work like nothing happened next morning. My hypothesis that he didn't care me was deeply confirmed. But when I sat in front of the table to have my breakfast, a note under my coffee cup with my father's handwriting came into my view.
"My dearest daughter, Life is a circle, no matter it was integrated or fragmentary. There used to be a fairy tale liked this. A fragmentary circle was on its way to travel around the world. Because of its limitation, it couldn't roll that far. But because of its slowness, it could see the cottage standing peacefully in the shelter of sugar maples, hear nightingales singing in unison with the melody of nature and feel the warmth of the setting sun at dusk. One day, this circle changed its mind to be a perfect one. But this time because of its perfectness, it rolled too quickly and meanwhile lost the happiness of enjoying the nature. Remember, winning is not the ultimate goal of life. Questing for perfect is a good thing but it is appreciating and enjoying the scenery on your life journey that gives you a better life. My daughter, I know you are an eagle. Cages can never lock you. That's why I try my best to let you fly even if sometimes you may fall down with pain. The greatest glory of life is not 'never fail' but is the courage to stand up after failure. This is how you can be strong and independent. Fly high but never too fast!"
I was moved. My father opened the cage for me but still stared at me silently. My memory flashed back to the past: My father never said goodbye every time he sent me to school but I still felt the warmth of his vision on my back. My father never asked me to buy any gifts for him when I went abroad but always remembered to send the latest local weather forecast to my cell phone. My father never showed his excitement when I came back from a long trip but just touched my head and said I had grew taller. My recall of the past paused at the scene of one summer afternoon in 1996, I caught my first dragonfly. My father asked me to let it go.
'Let me go' is the unique love my father had for me. He taught me the essence of independence and
The story of two eagles is to be continued.
