"back shadow" original: (Author: Zhu Ziqing)
I and my father do not see has been more than two years, I can not forget is his back.
That winter, my grandmother died, and my father's errand was handed over to him, and it was a time of great misfortune. I went from Beijing to Xuzhou, intending to follow my father home in mourning. To Xuzhou to see my father, see the yard full of wolves things, and think of my grandmother, can not help but rustling tears. The father said: "Things have been so, do not have to be sad, well, the sky is not the end of the road!"
Home to sell the pawn, father paid the shortfall; and borrowed money to do the funeral. The funeral is over, my father to Nanjing to seek employment, I also want to go back to Beijing to study, we will travel.
When I arrived in Nanjing, a friend asked me to go for a walk and stayed for a day; the next morning I had to cross the river to Pukou, and in the afternoon I got on a bus to go north. I was very busy with my father, and I had already said that I would not be sent to the hotel, so I was told to go with a teahouse that I knew well. He repeatedly instructed the teahouse to be very careful. However, he was not assured that the teahouse would not be a good choice, and he hesitated for a while. In fact, I was already twenty years old, and I had already been to Beijing two or three times, so it didn't matter. After hesitating for a while, he finally decided to send me there himself. I repeatedly advised him not to go; he only said, "It doesn't matter, it's not good for them to go!"
We crossed the river and entered the station. I bought the ticket, he was busy taking care of the luggage. There was so much luggage that we had to tip the footmen to get through. He was busy bargaining with them again. I was too smart for my own good at the time, and I always felt that he was not talking very nicely and had to intervene myself, but he finally settled on a price; and then he put me on the train. He fixed a chair for me by the door; and I spread my seat in the purple woolen coat he had made for me. He bade me be careful on my way, and to be vigilant at night, and not to catch cold. He also asked the teahouse to take good care of me. In my heart, I laughed at his pedantry; they only recognize money, and entrusting them is just a waste of time! Besides, I am such an old man, can't I take care of myself? I think now that I was really smart then!
I said, "Dad, go away." He looked out of the car and said, "I'm going to buy some oranges. You stay right here and don't move." I see a couple of sellers waiting for customers outside the fence on that platform over there. To walk to yonder platform, one had to cross the railroad tracks and had to jump down and climb up. My father was a fat man, and naturally it took more effort to walk across. I was going to go, but he refused, so I let him go. I saw him wearing a black cloth cap, a black cloth coat and a dark green cloth cotton robe, hobbling to the railroad tracks, slowly probing down, not too difficult. But it was not easy for him to cross the railroad tracks and climb up to the platform over there. He used two hands to climb up, two feet and then upward shrinking; his fat body to the left slightly tilted, showing the appearance of effort, when I saw his back, my tears quickly flowed down. I hurriedly wiped away the tears. I was afraid that he would see it, and that others would see it. When I looked out again, he was already holding the vermilion oranges and walking back. When crossing the railroad tracks, he first put the oranges on the ground, slowly climbed down, and then picked up the oranges and walked. When we reached this side, I rushed to assist him. He and I walked to the car and put the oranges on my leather coat. Then he pounced on the mud on his coat, as if his heart was very relaxed. After a while, he said, "I'm leaving, come over there and write!" I looked at him walking out. He walked a few steps, turned back to see me, said, "Go in, no one inside." When his back blended into the comings and goings and he couldn't be found again, I came in and sat down, and my tears came again.
In recent years, my father and I have been traveling from place to place, and the light at home is getting worse by the day. He was a young man who went out to make a living, supported independently, and did many great things. How do you know the old age is so decadent! He was saddened by his feelings, and naturally he could not help himself. When he was depressed, he would naturally express his feelings outwardly; family trivialities would often offend his anger. He treats me differently than he used to. But in the last two years, he finally forgot my bad, but only thought of me, thought of my son. I came to the north, he wrote a letter to me, the letter said: "my health is safe, but the bladder pain is very strong, a lot of inconvenience in lifting the pen, about the time to go is not far away." I read here, in the crystal tears, and saw that fat, green cotton robe black cloth coat back. Alas! I do not know when I can meet him again!
Lao She, "My Mother"
My mother's mother's family was outside of De Sheng Men in Bei Ping, outside of Tucheng, on the road to Dazhong Temple in a small village. There were four or five families in the village, all surnamed Ma. We all planted some not very fertile land, but with my brothers of the same generation, there are soldiers, carpenters, masons, and when the inspector. The first thing that I want to do is to make sure that I have a good understanding of what is going on in the world, and I want to make sure that I have a good understanding of what is going on in the world.
I only know a little bit about my grandmother's family. I don't know what my grandparents were like, because they died a long time ago. As for the more distant lineage and family history, I know even less; the poor can only care about the immediate food and clothing, no time to talk about the past glory; "genealogy" this word, I have never heard of it in the early childhood.
Mother was born in a farming family, so she was thrifty and honest, and her health was good. This fact is extremely important, because if I did not have such a mother, I thought I would have to be greatly discounted.
My mother probably married very early, because my eldest sister is now an old woman in her sixties, and my great niece is still a year older than me. I have three brothers and four sisters, but the only ones who have grown up are my eldest sister, my second sister, my third sister, my third brother and me. I am the "oldest" son. I was born when my mother was already forty-one years old, and my elder two sisters had already left the pavilion.
By the big sister and the second sister married into the family to infer, before I was born, my family, probably also a little bit of sloppiness.
This is the first time I've ever seen the world's most popular movie, and I'm sure it's the first time I've ever seen the world's most popular movie.
But I, I brought misfortune to the family: I was born, my mother fainted in the middle of the night, only to open her eyes to see her old son - thanks to the eldest sister, put me in the arms, to not freeze to death.
I'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm sure I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm sure I'm going to be able to do it.
My brother was less than ten years old, my third sister was twelve or thirteen, and I was only a year and a half old, so I had to rely on my mother to raise me. The father's widowed sister lived with us, she smoked opium, she liked to play cards, she was extremely bad-tempered. To feed and clothe us, my mother washed, mended and tailored clothes for others. As far as I can remember, her hands were bright red and slightly swollen all year round. During the day, she washed clothes in one or two large green tiled pots. She never did anything perfunctorily, and even the black-as-iron socks sent by the butchers were washed white. In the evening, she and her third sister held an oil lamp and sewed until midnight. She didn't rest all year round, but in the midst of her busyness she also kept the yard and house clean and fresh. The tables and chairs are old, the copper work of the cabinet door has been broken for a long time, but her hands always make the broken tabletop without dust, and the broken copper work glows with light. In the yard, the father left a few pots of pomegranate and oleander, will always get due watering and care, every summer to open many flowers.
My brother didn't seem to play with me. Sometimes he went to school; sometimes he was apprenticed; sometimes he sold peanuts or cherries and other small things. My mother sent him away in tears, and in less than two days, she brought him back in tears. I didn't understand what it was all about, but only felt alienated from him. The ones who depended on my mother were my third sister and me. Therefore, when they did something, I always followed behind. When they watered the flowers, I also made an effort to get water; when they swept the floor, I would hand out the soil ...... From here, I learned to love flowers, love cleanliness, and abide by the order. These habits have been preserved by me to this day. When guests came, no matter how embarrassed she was in her hands, my mother would try to get a little something to entertain them. Uncles and cousins often paid for their own wine and meat, which made her face red with shame, but the solicitousness of warming wine for them as a noodle, but also some of the joy of the knot her. When a friend or relative has a wedding or funeral at home, my mother will wash her coat clean and personally go to congratulate the hangers - the gift may be just two hangers of small money. To this day, such as my hospitable habits, has not yet changed all, although life is so hard, because since the early childhood to see the things are not easy to change.
Auntie often lose their temper. She is the only one who is looking for a bone in the egg. She was the king of hell in my family. She did not die until I joined secondary school, but I did not see my mother rebelling. "Haven't you ever been angry with your mother-in-law and not with your great aunt? It's fate!" My mother said this when she had to explain that it wasn't enough to pacify people. Yes, it was fate. My mother lived to a ripe old age, poor to old age, hard to old age, and it was all her destiny. She was the best at suffering. She was always in the forefront of helping family, friends and neighbors: she washed babies - so that poor friends could spend less money on "grandma" - she shaved, she shaved children's heads, she shaved young women's faces. She shaves children's heads, she shaves children's heads, she twists young women's faces ...... Whatever she can do, she can do. But she was never to be found in a quarrel or a fight. She would rather suffer than tease. When my aunt died, my mother seemed to cry out all the grievances of her life, all the way to the graveyard. A nephew from somewhere claimed to have the right of succession, and without a word, my mother taught him to remove the broken tables and benches, and gave him one of my aunt's fat hens.
But the mother was not weak. Father died in the year of Gengzi "fist". The Allied Forces entered the city, searching from house to house for property, chickens and ducks, we were searched twice. Mother pulled my brother and third sister to sit at the base of the wall, waiting for the "ghosts" to enter the door, the street door was open. "When they came in, they stabbed the old yellow dog to death with a bayonet and then entered the house to search. After they left, my mother lifted the broken suitcase and found me. If the box hadn't been empty, I would have been crushed to death. The Emperor ran away, my husband died, the devils came, the city was full of blood and flames, but my mother was not afraid, she had to protect her children under the bayonet and in the famine. How many changes there were in Beiping? Sometimes there was mutiny, the whole market burned down, and fire fell on our yard. Sometimes there was a civil war, the city gates were closed, stores were shut, and guns were fired day and night. This panic, this tension, together with the planning of the family's meals and the concern for the safety of the children, could not be borne by a feeble old widow? But, at such times, a mother's heart straddles the line, and she will not panic or cry, but will think her way out of the hopelessness. Her tears would fall to her heart! This soft but hard personality was also passed on to me. I have a peaceful attitude toward all people and things, and I take it as a matter of course that I should suffer. However, as a person, I have certain principles and basic rules, and I can make do with anything, but not exceed the boundaries I have set for myself. I am afraid to meet people, afraid to do chores, afraid to show my face; but when I have to go, I have to go, just like my mother. From private school to elementary school to middle school, I have experienced at least twenty teachers, some of them gave me a great influence, there are no influence, but my real teacher, the character to me, is my mother. My mother could not read or write; she gave me the education of life.
When I graduated from elementary school, my friends and relatives unanimously wanted me to learn a trade so that I could help my mother. I knew that I should go and find a meal to relieve my mother's hard work and suffering. However, I was also willing to go to school. I secretly enrolled in the Normal School - uniforms, food, books, and lodging were all provided by the school. Only then did I dare to speak to my mother about furthering my education. For enrollment, there was a ten-dollar deposit. It was a lot of money! My mother struggled for half a month to raise the money and then sent me out the door in tears. She worked hard for her son's success. When I graduated from the teacher's college and was assigned to be the principal of an elementary school, my mother and I didn't close our eyes for a night. All I said was, "From now on, you can take a break!" Her reply was only a string of tears. After I started school, my third sister got married. My mother loved her children equally, but if she had some favoritism, she would have favored my third sister, because since my father's death, everything in the family was supported by my mother and my third sister*** together. The third sister was her mother's right hand. But the mother knew that this right hand must be cut off; she could not hold back her daughter's youth for her own convenience. When the palanquin came outside our broken door, mother's hands were as cold as ice and her face was bloodless - it was the fourth month of the lunar calendar and the weather was warm. Everyone was afraid she would faint. But she struggled, biting her lip and holding her hand to the door frame, watching the sedan chair go by. Soon after, her aunt died. My third sister was married, my brother was away, and I lived at school, so my mother was left alone. She still had to operate from dawn to dusk, but no one said a word to her all day long. New Year's Eve came and went, and the government was promoting the adoption of the solar calendar, so we were not allowed to celebrate the old year. On New Year's Eve, I took a two-hour vacation. I returned from the crowded market to my home where the stove was cold. My mother laughed. When she heard that I had to go back to school, she was stunned. It took her half a day to let out a sigh. When it was time for me to leave, she handed me some peanuts, "Go on, boy!" The street was so busy, but I didn't see anything. Tears blinded me. Today, tears cover my eyes again, and I think of my mother who spent that miserable New Year's Eve alone. But I don't think I'm going to be able to wait and see what's going to happen!
The life of a child does not follow the track set by the parents all the time, so the old man is always inevitably sad. I was twenty-three years old when my mother wanted me to get married, but I didn't want to. I asked my third sister to intercede for me, and my mother nodded with tears in her eyes. I loved my mother, but I gave her the biggest blow. The times made me a rebellious son. At twenty-seven, I went to England. For myself, I gave my sixty-something mother a second blow. On the day of her seventieth birthday, I was still far away in a foreign land. On that day, according to what my sisters told me later, the old lady had only two sips of wine and went to bed very early. She missed her infant son, but could not bring herself to say so.
After the war, I escaped from Jinan. Beiping was occupied by the devils again like the year of Gengzi, but my mother's young son, who she missed day and night, came to the southwest. I can imagine how my mother missed me, but I couldn't go back. Whenever I receive a letter from home, I always dare not open it immediately, I'm afraid, afraid, afraid, afraid of that ominous news. People, even if they live to eighty or ninety years old, have a mother can be more or less still a little childish. If you lose your mother, you will be like a flower in a bottle, although it still has color and fragrance, but it has lost its roots. A person with a mother is stable in his heart. I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid that the letter from home will bring bad news and tell me that I've lost the root of the flower.
Last year, I couldn't find any information about my mother's life in the letters. I was suspicious and afraid. I imagined that, if there was any misfortune, the family would remember my exile and loneliness, or could not bear to tell. My mother's birthday was in September, and I wrote a letter to her in August 30th, counting on it arriving before the birthday. In the letter, I was told to write the details of the birthday so that I would have no more doubts. On December 26, I received a letter from home when I returned from the Cultural Labor Army conference. I did not dare to open it. I opened the letter before I went to bed, my mother has been dead for a year!
Life is what my mother gave me. I can grow up, it is the mother's blood and sweat of the nourishment. I can become a not very bad person, is the mother of the penitentiary. My character, my habits, were handed down from my mother. She never enjoyed a single day of happiness in her life, and she died eating coarse food. Alas! What else can I say? Heartache! Heartache!