须影吟者🕊️

When I return to my hometown during the holidays, I always encounter some familiar yet strange scenes. My second uncle holds a wine glass, with a proud smile on his face, talking about his son's achievements in the city: a yearly salary of 300,000, buying a house, and living a life that makes people envy. My dad listens and looks at my second uncle's expression, takes a bite of food, and says slowly, 'He doesn't have much of an achievement, just doing some idle job in the community. However, he lives close to home, and last week when I had a high blood pressure attack, he took me to the hospital emergency room in 10 minutes.' My second uncle's smile freezes, and his son, who earns 300,000 a year, hasn't returned home in three years. It turns out that so-called success is often just a facade for outsiders to see. Parents only understand when they get old that no matter how successful you are, it can't compare to the warmth of a bowl of soup at home. Distance is instinct, but accompaniment is the real talent. I recall when I was a kid, my parents always told me that 'home' is the real haven. No matter where we go or how we live, home is always there, waiting for us to return. However, as we grow older, we start to move away from home, pursuing our own dreams, and seeking our own happiness. We tell ourselves that leaving home is for a better life, to realize our own value.