My father's hand is not as delicate and smooth as I am, but it is big and rough, and there is a thick layer of calluses on it, engraved with countless arduous journey.


The delicious food on the dining table was bought by my father with both hands; the neat words in the exercise book were also taught by my father; the waving clothes in the wardrobe were also bought by my father with both hands. On the whole, my life is absolutely inseparable from my father's hands.


These hands carried me to the park when I was very young, and took me to play everywhere. My father is an ordinary construction worker. His work is very tired and hard. He always holds steel bar and cement sand in his hand, which forms calluses for a long time. Dad is very busy at work, but he always takes a little time out of his busy work to take me to play around and take a walk with me,


One night, my father and I went out for a walk. Suddenly, my father reached out and held my hand. Looking at the starry night sky, he said, "my daughter has grown up. Soon she will be taller than me. At that time, my father is old too. You have to lead me away!" One side of me, silent, holding dad's calloused hand, I immediately burst into tears.


Dad, your hand is a compass, which points out the direction when I am lost. Your hand is the mountain, let me have the desire for victory. Your hand is an umbrella, always shelter me from the wind and rain.