One winter morning a year ago, before dawn, I got up and ran. The glass windows were frosted, the banana leaves were covered with silver powder, and the branches of neem trees were covered with frost. I ran for a while and felt hot all over. Walking, I found a person's back shaking under the dim street lamp. Looking carefully, it turned out that my ordinary and aging uncle was busy in the fog. He was wearing a pair of New Pants and washed white stretch shoes, and didn't wear a mask. Not far from him, there is a mezzanine cart filled with conical garbage, and a dark blue cotton-padded jacket is hung on the handle of the cart. The uncle hobbled to the car with a dustpan full of rubbish in his hands. When he got to the car, he put down the dustpan, bent down slightly, raised his hands again, supported them with his right knee, paused, held them up with his hands, gritted his teeth, and the veins stood out on his neck. ...
"Uncle, I'll do it."
At this moment, I couldn't help shouting and running to give him a hand. I put the dustpan on the side of the car with him and slowly poured it in. He looked at me gratefully as an "uninvited guest" with sunken eyes, smiled and immediately went to clean up. I looked at a car full of garbage and asked him inexplicably, "Uncle, why is the place you swept today wider than before?"
"I finished cleaning this street today," said Uncle, slowing down.
"Why?"
"I'm leaving." He tried to lower his voice.
"Oh, retired?"
"hmm."
With that, he held the broom tightly and slowly swept the rest of the garbage into the dustpan. Finally, he quickly waved the broom and smashed the garbage into the dustpan.
Yes, it's finished. The uncle cut his hands on his back and patrolled the street. Suddenly, he stopped, crouched down and pressed down a blue brick that had been carried out of the ground. If you can't press your hand, step on it with your foot. Then, he stood up and looked at the long street with ecstasy, as if he had not seen enough after working in this street for decades.
I was afraid that he would freeze if he stayed too long, so I picked up his cotton-padded jacket and handed it over, saying softly, "Uncle, don't catch cold."
"I hate ..." He was talking to himself. Seeing me coming, I took the cotton-padded jacket and put it on, and suddenly asked me with concern, "Are you cold?"
"No, it's just that you are old and easy ..."
"I'm fine! Don't believe you. " He jumped up like a child, but he jumped reluctantly.
"... do you get up early? "
"I wanted to borrow an alarm clock to wake me up, but I got up when the alarm clock didn't go off." He blinked his bloodshot eyes.
"Retired, go back to your hometown?"
"hmm."
"When?"
"I wanted to stay for a few days, but I bought a ticket for the morning."
I have nothing to say, silence. At this time, in front of him, what language is more appropriate to express his feelings? I said from the bottom of my heart, "thank you, the person who has served the public all his life!" " Goodbye! "
The sky turned white. Uncle returned to the front of the car, took a deep look at the street behind him, pulled up the scooter and left. The street flowed slowly behind him like running water. As he walked farther and farther, there was a long street behind him.
I looked at his back blankly and just stood there. The cold wind blew and I couldn't help shivering.
From his distant back, I seem to see countless people coming and going happily in the street, flowing endlessly; I have also met many people who love their jobs and work hard to build the four modernizations with ordinary labor; I also saw the prosperous future of the motherland.
Since then, I have never seen my uncle again, but his back is deeply imprinted in my heart. Whenever I make progress on the road of learning, there will always be the back of his departure.