In my impression, my father is a man of few words. My father doesn't seem to have changed much since I was a child. He is still so handsome and retains his original personality. Every time my father comes to school to find me, my classmates will exclaim, "Ah, your father is so young." Of course, this kind of "youth" is not like Jay Chou and Show Lo, but my father's age. At this time, I will be proud to say, "Of course, my father is very handsome." Whenever I hear such words, I seem happier and more proud than hearing others praise me.

To this day, I have carefully observed my father's hand, which is not the original appearance, but rough and dark. This made me understand that my father has not changed. In the process of my gradual maturity, my father's face inadvertently left traces of years on me, and his hands also left traces of everything he had done for many years.

Although my father's hands are old, they are still full of strength. It seems that no matter how old I am, my little hand will always be in my father's big hand. It seems that this old big hand can always shelter me from the wind and rain. As long as I hold my father's hand, it will always be full of the warmth of love.

It is these vigorous hands that bring me out of the tabloids, take me to try all kinds of "firsts" in life, point me in the direction when I am confused, point me in the maze when I am confused, and let me feel the warmth of love forever.

Although my father has old hands, gray hair and many wrinkles, in my mind, he is still a handsome father and always has a young heart.

Finally, I sincerely wish my father: good health, the younger he lives.

Father's hand composition 2

My father has a pair of big hands and is strong. Under the protection of my father, I am maturing. Now, I have successfully reached the 17 milestone in my life journey. Looking back, I found that I had too much attachment to my father's hand.

In my memory, my father seldom touched my head, but he shook my hand many times. When I was six or seven years old, my father took me to other places to see a doctor because I had encephalopathy. The railway station was crowded, and my father grabbed my hand and walked through the crowd, reminding me not to let go.

We take a car without a sleeper. At night, my father vacated my seat for me to sleep, but he stood by and looked out of the window. When I woke up the next morning, I found my father leaning against the window, snoring slightly, and my hand was still holding me. Suddenly, an inexplicable warmth welled up in my heart. I don't know if I can use the word "fatherly love" to describe this warm feeling.

On the way back, my father has been holding the hungry hand and walking along the tracks step by step. ...

My father hates people who have made mistakes but have no courage to admit them, but I always run counter to my father's hatred. At that time, the back of my father's hand rudely crossed an arc in the air, and "pa" and "pa" hit my face, followed by my uncontrollable crying. At this time, my father standing by was at a loss and had to reach out and touch my face, as if to comfort me. I know he doesn't want me to be a nuisance, and I understand my father's good intentions. ...

What impressed me most was my father's parting hand. At that time, he had been tortured by the disease and was immersed in endless pain and groaning all day. He took my hand and couldn't speak. He can only shed tears for me. I know what he means. This is his way of apologizing for not doing his father's duty. ...

My father finally left me forever, which made me miserable. At the moment when his hand hung down, I realized more deeply: I can't live without my father's hand, those loving hands.

Father's hand composition 3

Everyone's hands are different, including hardworking hands, dexterous hands and wise hands ... My father's hands are life-saving hands.

My father is an excellent urologist. He has treated countless patients and relieved the suffering of many patients. I know my father treated two patients like this.

One is from Weiyuan, in his fifties. In the past ten years, the waist has been swollen and painful, and hematuria has been relieved repeatedly. The patient is in great pain Kidney calculi was diagnosed in Weiyuan, and the doctor advised him to have an operation. However, because the patient's kidney was not functional, he went to many hospitals, and the doctor refused to operate on the patient because of the great risk of surgery. After the father admitted the patient to the hospital, he made an "intravenous pyelography" for the patient, and diagnosed that the patient's kidney had more than 100 stones. So dad decided to operate on the patient with percutaneous nephroscope, that is, make two holes in the patient's waist, use the nephroscope to pass through the holes, enter the kidney, find the stone and punch it out.

After the operation, seven days later, a miracle appeared. The patient's kidney was protected, his waist was no longer swollen, and he did not understand hematuria. Dad finally smiled with satisfaction, and the patient was grateful. After leaving the hospital, he sent a banner to his father, which read: "Noble medical ethics warms the world".

The other is from Xu Yang Town, Rong County, who is also in his fifties. The patient relieved painless hematuria many times, and soon after bladder tumor resection in Rongxian People's Hospital, hematuria was relieved again. Last October, I was introduced to see my father. My father found a fist-sized lump in the patient's bladder. Cystoscope took out a small part of the lump and diagnosed it as bladder cancer. Dad completely removed the lump under the electrosurgical microscope and stopped the patient's hematuria. After reexamination, it was found that the mass disappeared and was cured clinically. When leaving the hospital, the patient's family presented a banner "Exquisite medical skills to get rid of the disease".

There are many stories about my father treating patients. There is nothing special about his hands, but with his hands, he has alleviated the pain of countless patients, improved their quality of life and led a healthy and happy life. I am proud that my father has such hands, and I am proud that I have such a father.

Father's hand composition 4

My father has warm hands. In my impression, these hands are always warm and bring me a lot of joy.

Dad has several obvious blue veins standing out on the back of each hand. The palm is yellow, the back of the hand is light wood, the lines on the palm are deep, and the ten nails are cut very short. Dad's hand is still very big, a whole circle bigger than mine, and not much smaller than the exercise book that usually writes homework. Dad's hands are not so delicate and rough to the touch, but they make people feel warm and full of strength. One hand of my father can lift me to the top of my head.

The biggest feature of dad's hands is warmth. In winter morning, my father always tries his best to send me to school. On the way, the wind blew hard and almost got into people's bones. Although I put on a lot of clothes, I still feel very cold, especially my exposed hands and face, as if I had been cut by a knife. At this time, my father will let me behind him to shelter me from the wind, carrying a heavy schoolbag in one hand and holding my cold little hand in the other, wrapped tightly, pulling me away, and the wind can't blow me anymore. Dad's hand shines on me like a ray of soft sunshine. Suddenly I feel that my discomfort has disappeared a lot and my heart is warm. Along the way, my father's hand kept holding my hand, which made my hand warm, but my hand gradually became cold and red.

When I am frustrated or sad, my father will reach out and pat me on the shoulder and touch my head, giving me the greatest encouragement and comfort. When I walk a long way, my father will pinch my leg with his hand, which makes me feel very comfortable and never tired again. When I get the honor, my father will make a V-shaped victory with his hands and be happy with me.

My father's hands are not as tender as mine, as clever as my mother's, as industrious as my grandmother's and as industrious as my grandfather's. However, my father's hand can bring me truth and happiness, and make me feel different, gentle and kind.

I love my father's warm hands, and I care more about my father!

Father's handwriting 5

When I was a child, my father's hands were so strong, but they were warm.

Memories fly back to childhood. My father and I always like to play hide-and-seek under the small tree in front of the door. Running and running, my father's big hand suddenly hugged me and took me into his warm arms. I smiled happily. The sun shone gently on me through my father's fingers until there was light in my little heart. Dad always holds his fist tightly. I can break it, but I can't get it off. Dad will smile happily and "reward" me with a sweet lollipop. Then I took my father's little finger and went shopping together in the warm sunshine. ...

Dad's hand, so warm, soaked my heart in the warm fatherly love, and let the sunshine of fatherly love accompany me through my childhood as sweet as sugar.

When I grow up, I go to school. Dad's hand still protects me and gives me spiritual warmth.

I still remember the third day, when it rained heavily after school. Rain hit the ground, splashing rain flowers. I stayed in the classroom and couldn't help shivering and shed tears at a loss. Dad is like the "Monkey King" in comics, and then he suddenly appeared in front of me, holding rain gear in his hand. Dad picked me up with a smile and put on my raincoat. Two warm big hands hugged me tightly, so I followed my father home, full of warmth in my heart, but it was a rainy and sunny day. Dad is like this. With a pair of warm hands, I spent every "rainy day" of my life.

However, dad's hands are also strict in the warmth. Once I quarreled with my mother and made her cry. Dad's hand became hard and hit me hard on the back. I cried. But when I grow up, I know that my father is good for me. Dad is like this, with those warm and dignified, dignified and warm hands to make me mature day by day. ...

Dad's hand gave me a lot of unspeakable warmth-when I was a child, I certainly had a future when I grew up! But I don't know how to repay him. Maybe I can only express my father's love with trivial things on weekdays and thank him with excellent grades. I hope these big hands can make me remember my life and become the warmth I will always cherish in my heart!

Father's hand composition 6

My family lives in a cold and remote mountain village, but it is full of happiness. In a harmonious and happy family, my father is the pillar of the family, and every brick and tile is made by my father himself.

During the cardamom period, I was still naive. Just when the cold wind blows, it is also the season of planting grass. Every day, my parents always go out early and come back late. Every time I go home, the door is closed to me. Helpless, I had to come to the slope. My father is in the cabin. His steps are slow but steady. Camel food-like camels are moving step by step, and their tired faces are still full of momentum. He gritted his teeth and pulled out the grass, and sweat dripped on the grass. Seeing this scene, I can't help but have the motivation to join this intense labor. When the last sunset of the day dissipates, our work is drawing to a close. I put my tiredness behind me, and sang a song "Let's people, I am really happy …" with my father.

When I get home, my father wants to wash his hands, and I insist on washing my father myself. The palm of my father's hand became two worlds. The palm of your hand is like a hill covered with calluses, but what about the back of your hand? Such as ravines, rough and cracked. In the face of these ugly hands, my heart is like an overturned five-flavor bottle, and bitterness, regret and exclamation come to mind together. My eyes were wet with tears. Fortunately, I lowered my head and my father couldn't see the tears on my face. When the tears merged with the water in the basin, my father's hands were almost washed clean. This is the first time I touched my father's hand, like a farmer kissing his land. In these hands, I saw a vast field. It bears a bumper harvest, numerous fruits and hopes. In these hands, I see the true nature of a farmer, hardworking, selfless, simple and kind.

Perhaps it is hard for us to repay our parents' hard work and concern for our growth, but don't underestimate a sincere greeting, a caring move and a considerate concern, which can be cool in summer and warm in winter.

In contact, I am growing up quietly.

Father's handwriting 7

In the world of hands, there are such hands, a pair of calluses, a pair of rough and red hands, a pair of hands that record their own experiences, and a pair of hands full of fatherly love.

This is my father's hand, an ordinary farmer. But in my heart, it is the hand that guides me forward. I remember when I was a child, those hands held me all day and didn't hate me because I was a girl. At school, it always holds my hand and teaches me to write word by word. When I got my exam results back for the first time, my father stroked my head with trembling hands and said, "My child! Ok, girls also like it. " At that time, I didn't quite understand what my father meant, so I just nodded my head hard. Later, because my father was busy, he stopped asking me about my grades. Once, I only got 60 points in the exam. I was afraid that my father would know, but he did. He was so angry that he hit me in the face with his big hand. This is the first time my father hit me. I cried. I feel sorry for my father. He is so strong that he always says, "Girls can go to college." But I'm so disappointed. From then on, I vowed to live up to my expectations. After getting the certificate back, my father always looks much younger and works hard.

Later, I was admitted to middle school with excellent results. Every time I go home, my father always says something that inspires me. Although he stopped hitting me with his big hand, I never let him down. My grades have always been excellent. Although life is hard, he always gives me more money with his calloused hands in order to make me eat better. Every time I go home, my father always cooks something delicious for me, but he never complains. His hands are getting older and older. My sister dropped out of school, and everyone in the village said it was time for me to work. I told my father that I didn't want to work, but I wanted to go to school. He stroked my head and said, "Good boy, although you are a girl, my father will definitely provide you with education."

Father, how can your daughter repay you for your kindness to me in this life? How much joy and joy your hands have brought me, how much thinking and enlightenment you have brought me, but I have never returned it. Father and daughter can only wish you peace and happiness all your life! Daughter won't let you down.

Father's hand composition 8

I still remember when I was a child, my father's hands always gave me a dirty feeling. I don't like dad hugging me very much, because I'm afraid dad will dirty my clothes.

Father's job is to deal with engine oil. My mother always said to me, "Dad is very hard." Grandpa will also mutter to himself when he holds me, "You should be obedient and look at Dad's back. You are too tired to stand up straight. " When grandpa said this, there were always tears in his eyes. And I'm still young, and I just listen to these words.

There was a time when my classmates played palm reading from somewhere. I'm also interested in this. When I go home, I always take my family's hand and start to explain, like a little fortune teller.

One night, my father and neighbors were chatting in the living room. I reached for my father's hand, and I froze at the moment I touched it. That kind of feeling reminds me of the poplar trunk on the Gobi desert, like a gully piled up with dead tree skins, full of stinging roughness. My heart is churning.

How many vicissitudes has this hand experienced? It looks like the hand of an old man in his seventies and eighties, and his father is only in his forties. The dull skin color can't set off a glimmer of life luster, the fingernails are full of black oil stains, and the back of the hand is covered with large and small scars. My eyes are moist, distressed and sad. After so many years of hard work, my father never mentioned it. In the dim tears, I vaguely saw my father's hand twisted in the cold part in the dim light and the howling cold wind, and it was frozen and cracked.

Father's hands are no longer dirty, but they are extremely heavy. I never thought about my father's hand carefully before, but now, I understand. Those gullies are printed with my father's sweat.

Once, my heart was full of selfish desires, dripping into a lonely melody between mountains and streams; Once, my dream was a broken kite, searching in the air, eager to find the traction palm. Now, I know, I found it.

In our life, father may not be as dazzling as mother, because he is always hidden in places where you are not easy to detect; Father may not have the enthusiasm for maternal love, because it is always covered by silence. But father love is like water, clear and sweet; Father loves mountains, majestic and solemn; Father's love is as deep and vast as the sky.

Father's hand composition 9

We all grew up hand in hand. One belongs to the mother-slender and delicate; One belongs to the father, strong and powerful. -inscription

Father has a pair of magical hands. When I was a child, I was particularly attached to these hands, and I had to hold them wherever I went. Although I can't recall the exact appearance of these hands in my memory, there is no doubt that they are powerful big hands. With the growth of age and height, I began to hold my father's arm, and now I can hold my father's shoulder. Time flies, I seem to have forgotten those hands.

For a long time, I gave it to my dad where I was injured and where I was beaten. A safflower oil, a massage, the effect is excellent. It's a sports meeting again, and the one-day schedule often makes me physically and mentally exhausted. At night, my leg hurts so much that I feel uncomfortable standing. I turned to my father and he began to "heal" me. Push your legs with your hands first, and then apply the medicine. This made me notice these hands again. Brown and red, full of blood. The blue blood vessels on the back of the hand are faintly visible. Your palms are rough. I can only feel it by rubbing it on my calf, not with my naked eyes.

When he massages, I look for these hands in my memory: when I can't solve a math problem, these hands will lift the pen and teach me to solve it; When I break something, these hands will dry up, help me repair it; When I am too lazy to peel the fruit, these hands will move and peel it for me. Father's hands are a pair of magical hands, omnipotent hands. They are deeply engraved in my mind.

After five minutes of massage, my father was as happy as finishing an important task, claiming that it would never be sour tomorrow and told me to have a good rest. After that, he was busy with other things. But my mind can't be calm for a long time. Looking back on the days when I got along with my father, I had laughter and contradictions. No matter who is right or wrong, he always makes me understand. No matter how headstrong I was, things would always calm down. My father is always bad to me, but I feel sorry for him. My eyes filled with tears when I thought that we would be separated briefly in five years. ...

I found that my life can not be separated from these hands, and my life can not be separated from my father.

Father's Handwriting 10

Dad has a pair of rough and hard hands with many calluses on them, which are left by his countless laundry and hard work for me. There are many deep lines on his palm, criss-crossing, which look like lines from a distance, and it says: hardworking, strict and warm.

Whenever I touch his rough hands and ask questions, he always smiles and says, "Men should have such hands."

Dad washed my clothes with those strong hands, and never complained that my clothes were too dirty to wash, even in the coldest winter. He always felt that the washing machine was dirty, so he rubbed it hard with his strong hands. Dad also contracted the work of washing dishes at home. The dishes he washes are always clean and bright. These are hard-working hands, but sometimes they are also very strict.

What impressed me most was that I was so playful that I forgot to do my homework. My father sternly asked me to tell the truth, but I tried every means to lie and say that I couldn't find a notebook to write my homework. Dad finally couldn't bear it, and his strong hands fell heavily on my ass, and I deeply realized his strength. After this lesson, I will never fail to finish my homework again, because I don't want to taste his harshness any more.

These hands sometimes make people feel warm and happy. Once I had a fever, my father quickly asked the teacher for leave, and he didn't even go to class. He is busy feeding me medicine and water. In a daze, I could feel my father using his rough hands. Feel if my head is hot, and feel if my body is hot. At this time, dad's hand is kind and warm. In the evening, the fever finally subsided and he breathed a sigh of relief. Since childhood, every time I have a fever, my father always touches me again and again, which makes me feel infinite happiness.

I will never forget my father's hands, those rough and powerful hands, which always read: diligence, strictness and warmth.

Father's handwriting 1 1

Father's hand, big and warm. It gives me courage, gives me strength and makes me work hard. It also urged me to bravely challenge difficulties. With my father by my side, I am not afraid of heavy wind and rain, because my father holds up a clear sky for me with a pair of big hands.

My mother told me that I was sick when I was a child and had a fever for several days. After several days of injection, it didn't work. And I cough in the middle of the night every night, and my face is red. Whenever this time, my father always got up and hugged me, patted me on the back and let me cough a few times. It took me about a week to fully recover. My father lost a lot of weight that week. On the day of discharge, my father lifted me high with his powerful big hand and carried me on his shoulder. Sitting on my father's shoulder, I feel like a victorious general. At that time, I thought my father's hand was very strong.

I went to kindergarten, my mother was very busy, and my father always came home late. Nobody picked me up, so I had to leave last week and go home every weekend. At that time, every weekend was my happiest time My father always appears at the kindergarten gate on time. He held my little hand tightly with his big hand, and I skipped to tell him about the kindergarten. Sometimes, my father will touch my head with his big hand and mess up my hair, but my father's big hand is warm. When eating, my father always adds vegetables to me, and then smiles and watches me eat. At that time, I felt my father's big hand was warm.

When I was in primary school, I was always impatient during exams, which often affected my grades. Every time I encounter a problem, I feel anxious. When I was in a hurry, my thoughts were broken, and I couldn't do the questions I was going to write right away. I am determined to get rid of my impatience, but I lack confidence. My father patted me on the shoulder, looked me in the eye and said, "Son, I believe you can do it!" " "Another exam, I did the problem very seriously, and actually got the first place in the class. My calm father hugged my shoulder excitedly and said, "I told you, my son can do it!" " "At that time, I felt that my father's hands were full of love and encouragement.

After entering middle school, the study pressure increases and my father is busier. I thought my father no longer cared about me. He doesn't seem to know that I have depression. But one weekend, my busy father suddenly offered to climb the fairy mountain with me. Climbing five or six hills, I met a steep slope in front, and my heart was pounding. My father asked me to climb up. I use my hands and feet to grab branches and climb rocks, because I will slide down if I am not careful. I finally managed to climb up. At this time, I saw the approval in my father's eyes and suddenly felt a warm current rushing through my heart. My father, who has been watching coldly, extended an invisible hand to me. This hand is so warm, it drives away all the haze in my heart and makes me regain the courage to overcome difficulties.

Father loves mountains, but father loves nothing. My father has been quietly paying for the livelihood of his family. Father's hands are getting rougher, but they are still warm. It will always encourage me, spur me, guide me, and let me keep moving towards my goals.

Maybe one day, my father is old, his steps are faltering, and his hands are wrinkled, so let me hold his hand, just like when he was a child.

Father's Handwriting 12

These hands are stern, inspiring and dexterous. These hands are rough. In so many hands in the world, it is small and insignificant, but it holds up a blue sky for me.

Your hands are hard. When I was a child, I was selfish. I often lose sleep because I think about myself. There is a feeling that "everyone is for me", but I never thought of "I am for everyone". When my brother and I piled wood, we piled together and were taller than anyone else. The building blocks are gone, and my brother is taller than me. I was unwilling, and reached for a few pieces, but my brother refused to give them to me. We fought, I scratched the skin on my brother's hand, and my brother cried. I clapped my hands happily, took all my brother's building blocks away, and scolded my brother for crying baby, which made him cry even more. You came in and asked what was going on, but I turned my head and didn't answer. You are angry, raise your hand. You never hit me, and you can't bear to hit me. I thought you wouldn't hit me, but it turned out to be even more rampant. But your hand fell and slapped me. I "wow", tears like a broken pearl, drop by drop.

You're upset. Wipe away my tears with your rough big hands and reason with me. I stopped crying.

Father's Handwriting 13

Dad has a pair of rough hands, a pair of black hands and a pair of strong hands. These hands have propped up the happiness of our family, the lives of four people and the blue sky above us.

Today, my father's hand was completely presented in front of my eyes, and I was shocked-I had never observed my father's hand at close range before, or even had skin contact with him. In my mind, my father is becoming more and more blurred. I only know that my father is very hard, getting up early every day, falling asleep as soon as he gets home every day, and nagging, but I never know how tired my father is at work.

Dad's hands are the roughest and dirtiest in the world. Dad's rough hand prints reveal the wind and the sun, as black as carbon accumulated over the years. At first glance, these hands make people afraid to look straight, let alone touch them. Dad's fingernails are black, they can't be washed off or cut clean. Dad's swollen and stiff fingers are still so strong that they form a pair of strong hands. I gently touched my father's hand, and a needle-like pain stuck in my heart-my father's hand was as astringent as sandpaper, as hard as stone and as rough as brick.

Dad's hand! Well done! In my heart, these hands are the best and softest in the world! These hands silently told me the most hit the floor answer-father loves silently, just like these hands, silently guarding us.

Father's Handwriting 14

A pair of wrinkled blue blood hands propped up my happy home. They are the father's hands, the three most familiar and warm hands of brothers and sisters.

Whenever neighbors say "your three children are really disappointing, they are all college students", my father looks proud, and who knows how much bitterness my father has paid to support this family!

Father's hands are really clever. When I was a child, I admired my father's hand most, because he was good at abacus. I was intoxicated by the clapping of my abacus when I was helping my neighbor settle accounts, and vowed to learn from my father. Maybe I'm too stupid to inherit my father's advantages and I'm not interested in abacus, let alone abacus. The abacus sound in childhood memories, as well as those withered, dark yellow hands, hold up the dream of colorful childhood. From primary school to university, I have been working, and it is my father's hands that support me silently behind my back.

Father's hands are really clever. When my sister was three years old, her family was poor and she didn't have more money to buy toys. My father tried to make all kinds of toys for me, such as wood, wooden cart, birdcage and so on. Although it was rough, she still spent the happiest childhood with us. Sitting by my father's side, listening to his stories and watching him make toys, we have developed the habit of being humble to each other, respecting others and elders, doing it ourselves and having plenty of food and clothing. Here are these. My brother and sister have grown up and got married, and have children of their own. My father still makes all kinds of toys by himself, so that my little grandson can enjoy the simplest toys. Now that I am an educator, I gradually understand my father's good intentions. Although the conditions are difficult and I don't have a rich material life, I have learned a lot about being a man in my father's simple story, which will benefit me for life.

Father's hands are really clever. Any farm work in the countryside is nothing in my father's hands. Because everything is the best. The first thing I remember is that my father drove the carriage for the team. Many young people can't, but my father used the carriage flexibly and freely, and my family was proud of it. It is the busiest time for my father to harvest wheat in early summer and corn in autumn. Although my father goes out early and comes back late, he works hard in the fields every day, with a confident and proud smile on his face. I often sit in the car with my mother, which attracts the envious eyes of the surrounding villagers. I feel very happy because my father is the greatest. At the same time, the seeds of self-confidence, diligence and hard work are quietly planted in my heart. I understand that I should be confident at all times and not be lazy. I can do everything well as long as I work hard. Nothing is impossible as long as I work hard.

Father's hands are really clever. But I can't learn, because that's my father's life experience. Only with painstaking efforts, I will be able to create my own glory!

Thanks to my most respected father, and also thanks to my father's most dexterous hands in memory!