Of course you can. This is a true story from my friend. The details have been anonymous, but the emotions and experiences have retained their original weight. **"Omelette at Three in the Morning"** When Kobayashi (pseudonym) was 26 years old, his father suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and fell down. As an only child, she quit her job in Shanghai and returned to the small town hospital to take care of her father. After his father was out of danger, he left the sequelae of hemiplegia and aphasia. A once vigorous university professor, his saliva would wet his collar when he ate. The most painful thing is the escort at night. At three o'clock in the morning one day, Kobayashi heard a noise in the hospital bed and found that her father was desperately reaching the bedside table with his movable left hand-there was a half-box of fried rice she had leftover on it. Only when her father gestured babblingly did she understand that he wanted to cook her supper. In the past, every time she went home from overtime, her father would cook soft-boiled eggs with leftovers for her. At that moment, she bit her hand on the back of her hand in the toilet cubicle and cried until she trembled. Two weeks later, she used all her savings to buy a wheelchair. When she pushed her father to the vegetable market, the aunt who sold green onions said, “Girl, the tomatoes your father picked in his left hand are always the softest. "The father grinned triumphantly like a child. **Postscript**: Kobayashi is now freelancing at home, and there is always a snack bucket within reach of his father by the bed. She said that life seemed to be split in half, but light penetrated through the cracks-such as the crooked braids that her father awkwardly tied her with his left hand, such as the rustle of them stealing ice cream together at three in the morning. (End of story) Sometimes real life does not have a refreshing ending to "solve problems”, but instead grows a new way of getting along in broken places. If you are going through difficult times, please remember to keep those tiny moments that make you suddenly cry. They are often signposts for the future.