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My little uncle had a blind eye.
One of his eyes was blind.The eyeball was still there,but it looked like a hazy white,with a bit of black mixed in.
It was damaged when he was an apprentice stonemason.A flying stone pierced it.
He told me that actually,there was still a chance to treat his eye when it was injured,but the family was so poor.
They could only wrap it with some herbal medicine and endure the pain.
They endured it until that eye went completely bad.
"Those days were really tough.I cried all day because of the pain in my eye.Your father felt sorry for me and knew that our family was too poor to afford the treatment.
Every time I cried,he would quickly carry me on his back and walk up and down the road in front of the door to comfort me.
When I cried,he cried too.What was the use of carrying me around?I could still feel the pain.But what else could he do?Our family was poor."
Listening to my little uncle talk about these things so calmly,I felt so heartbroken that I wanted to cry.
I also thought silently in my heart that my biological father must have been a really,really good person.
If he were still alive,he would definitely love me very much.
When I was a child,the question I asked my little uncle the most was,where were my parents?
My little uncle only told me that they had gone to a very far place.
Later,I found out that they had an accident at a construction site.
Since I could remember,I had always been with my little uncle.
He took me out of the village and opened a breakfast shop in the city.
With the business of the breakfast shop and by doing some handicrafts,he supported me to study and learn to draw.
After a Chinese class,the teacher assigned a homework,asking us to write a composition.
It was called"My Father".
I went home with my head down,carrying my schoolbag.Looking at my little uncle who was busy at the chopping board.
Suddenly,I was stunned for a moment.With a red nose,I timidly asked him,"The teacher assigned a homework to write a composition.It's called'My Father',but I don't have a father anymore...Uncle,can you be my father?"
I saw my little uncle's body tremble violently.It took him a long time to reply to me.
"Then you can write about my little uncle."He quickly wiped the flour off his hands and squatted down in front of me.
I asked him why I couldn't just write about my father.I could call him dad instead of uncle.
He said that although my biological father was no longer alive,no one could take his place.
I was stubborn and insisted that the teacher's assignment was to write about a father,not an uncle.
Finally,I came up with a compromise,"I know how to write it.I'll write about my little dad!"
In the breakfast shop,the big and small smiling faces were especially bright.
From that day on,I started calling him little dad.
In my heart,he was not my father,but he was more like a father than a father.
He seemed to be afraid that I would forget my biological father,so he often told me stories about him.
"Do you know why your name is Nora Summer?"
"Why?"
"Because my brother,your father,said he hoped that your life would be like the summer sun,warm and even warmer."
But Nora Summer's life wasn't warm at all...
