The breeze messed up my mother's white hair, just like the sky in my hometown was full of sadness. ...
My mother sitting in front of me forgot her love for me. The sky in my hometown will not be forgotten. It was my mother's hard-working hands that opened the treasure house of folk literature for me and brought me the rich poetry of the moonlit night. Let the bright moon and starlight accompany my childhood and enlighten my imagination with wisdom and talent.
The bitter childhood summer night is very beautiful. The heat dissipated, the stars came out, the moon rose, and the soft moonlight immediately filled our fence yard. This is the most beautiful moment in children's eyes. Mother finished a busy day's work, took a bath, put on a white blouse, hugged me beside the haystack in the yard and sang beautiful songs:
"When the moon came out, it was bright. Open the stair door to wash clothes, which were white and crisp."
"Mu Yueniang, eight feet tall, riding a white horse and carrying a broadsword ..."
"The moon bends like a boat, taking my sisters to Yunnan, flying thousands of miles to Wan Li Road, and the phoenix falls on the phoenix tree. Phoenix Phoenix bobs its head, building a tile house first, and then building Gai Lou. The east building and the west building are all built, and the south building is covered with the sun. " She sang for me with a sweet voice, gently, like a breeze in March, like the running water of a stream. The yard was immediately filled with her fragrant rhyme.
At that time, although we lived a poor life, our spiritual life was rich. The old road left by the Yellow River to my hometown is full of songs, instead of abundant crops. Mom is very talented and listens quickly. In addition, my grandmother is an expert in singing folk songs, and my father is a folk artist who sings Lotus Waterfall. Mother dissolved the love given by her relatives in her hometown into great maternal love and gave it to me by moonlight, which made a chaotic childlike innocence suddenly clear.
When my mother was tired of singing, she told me the story of the Goddess Chang'e flying to the moon and the meeting of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl Tianhe ... The unfathomable night sky turned out to be a mythical world. At this time, the moon has reached the zenith, and my mother is immersed in the moonlight like water, like a jade statue. She sang humorous nursery rhymes for me, leading my thoughts from heaven to earth: "Little red boy, go up to Nanshan, mow grass, weave foil baskets, screen rice and cook." The dog eats, the kitten looks, and the mouse licks the edge of the pot in a hurry. "
"Little mouse, go up to the lampstand and steal oil to drink, but you can't come down-mouse mouse, don't worry, hug a civet cat to coax you."
"Maowa cries, lives in a tile house, Maowa smiles and sits in a sedan chair. Maowa wakes up to eat pancakes. Maowa sleeps, covered with a floral quilt. When Maowa left, he was called a flower monkey, and the flower monkey stretched out his tongue. "
Folk songs and nursery rhymes have been sung, but I still don't want to sleep, so I pestered her to tell me riddles and let me guess. Mother said, "Listen carefully: there is a white fat man sleeping in the hemp room with red curtains-what is it?"
I asked, "Where do you guess?"
Mother said, "Guess the food".
I cocked my head and thought for a while, but I couldn't figure it out. Mom smiled and said, "You are so stupid. This is our peanut. "
My mother can't read, but she is my first teacher. The bright, smooth, subtle and profound folk songs she sang in the moonlight made me imagine and flew to the kingdom of poetry.
Mother lost her memory, but I always cherish the bright moon in my heart …