父亲用年轻的生命挽救了别人的生命,父亲不是英雄,然而我却在八月的天堂里,看到父亲的眼泪。那天本来是父亲回家的日子。母亲早早收工回家做父亲喜欢吃的手擀面。和面、揉面、擀面,母亲做得很仔细。光洁发亮的案板上放着切好的薄纸般的面皮,腊肉和着红椒炒的酸菜还冒着热气,等到锅里的水沸了,再加冷水,最后干脆熄灭了柴火,还看不见父亲的身影。日头渐渐西下,母亲不安地出去又进来,不时朝父亲回来要走的小路 Father saved his life with young life. Father was not a hero, but I saw his father’s tears in heaven in August. That day was the day my father came home. The mother comes home early to do the hand-dough roll that the father likes to eat. And noodles, kneading noodles, rolling noodles, the mother did very carefully. Bright and clean chopping board placed on a thin paper-like dough, bacon and red pepper fried sauerkraut still braved the heat, until the pot boiling water, plus cold water, and finally extinguished the firewood, but also look No father’s figure. Gradually westward on the sun, the mother came out uneasy to come, from time to time toward his father back to go the trail