Wandering in the world of mortals for most of my life. I always wanted to escape from this remote place when I was a child. I didn't expect to go home to visit relatives and leave after decades. At the end of the day, I was in tears. I didn't give up my old mother in the hospital bed, the grass and trees in the countryside, and the shiny green grass. The river flows slowly, jumping my mood and touching my heartstrings.
The grass is green, my heart is crystal clear, and the dew on the grass is as cold as spring water and as sweet as meat. I always touch the crystal lamp in the sun with my fingers jokingly. My nails are tender, white and red. I often look at my nails like this. As soon as my mother is free, she carefully cuts the crescent-shaped nails into a curved moon with fine scissors.
The dew on the grass is my dew. I lie prone on the shore of youth and read Li Bai's poems over and over again. The foot of my bed is shining with such bright light. Is it frosty already? Looking up at the bright moon and sinking back, I suddenly remembered home? . Such a poem left a deep impression on me; Such a poem, let me remember my life; Such a poem makes me lament the pain and lingering homesickness.
Cattle leisurely eating tender grass, big mouth with a long reddish-brown tongue, sticking out from time to time, licking the sweet stream. The green jade stream flows quietly, fast and slow. Its sound, as beautiful as a wind chime and melodious as a flute, seems to have both, but it seems to be incomplete. So why is its singing so familiar to me? The river is very wide, and fishermen often support small fishing boats and sing the high notes peculiar to men in the downstream countryside. The stones in the river stand in twos and threes, diverting the oncoming stream from time to time and turning it into a whirlpool.
There are many kinds of fish in the river, and villagers often come here to fish with their little grandchildren. In spring, the rain keeps falling, and the river is getting longer and longer. Older elders carry their backs and hold long bamboo fishing rods. A white line is hung on the rod head, and a fish hook is tied to the line. Earthworms and grass are sitting on the hook. The fish and shrimp in the river are full, and soon, a big carp is hooked.
At that time, I was in junior high school and my third sister was in primary school. She is cute and naughty. As soon as she left school, she rushed to the river and threw her schoolbag at me. Like a thirsty fish on the shore, she flew to the river and sank, and suddenly disappeared, scaring me to look into the river. Soon, she came out like a mermaid, and I felt a little secure, so I shouted, Third Sister, be careful, don't play for too long. ? Third sister didn't seem to hear my persuasion. Like a little frog, she shuttles through this lovely green and beautiful river with a flexible and vigorous posture.
two
The river runs endlessly, bypassing one mountain after another. It is our lifeblood, our patron saint and our mother river.
In summer, there are many clothes to be worn. My mother took me, carrying two baskets of clothes, squatting by the river, slapping again and again. Mother's hand has a lot of cocoons and a lot of blood. She poured a basket of clothes on the white and smooth stone that had been beaten countless times, quickly crossed a dress in the river and washed it several times, then picked up a heavy wooden stick and cut it from top to bottom according to the grain of the clothes, as fast and accurate as chopping meat. Mother is dressed simply, a gray coat and a pair of black trousers. I don't know how many times this dress has been tossed in this river, just like how many times my mother struggled in the bitter years; I don't know how many times this suit has been beaten on this river bank, just like how many times a mother was tortured by impermanent fate for her child's life in the great famine; I don't know how many times, when everyone was asleep in the middle of the night, my mother sewed clothes under kerosene lamps, just like my mother told herself that she must persist until her children were admitted to college.
For a long time, I went to school with my little brother on my back. This is my mother's last child. At that time, my mother was almost forty, and she was entangled in farm work, so she had to give my brother to me. Every day before dawn, when the rooster crows, I will help my brother who sleeps in the cradle change his wet pants, scrub them clean, cook some thin rice porridge, drink some for himself, feed him a little, and then take Wowotou on the road.
The morning breeze is blowing gently, and the humid air makes me meditate on the smoke rising from every household at dawn, and makes me look forward to crossing the rickety river-crossing bridge. I walked humming all the way. Soon, I smelled the aroma coming from the chimney, which was the unique aroma of rice paste in the countryside. Usually I go up the mountain to cut wood, and I cut it for a long time. I went over mountains and mountains, bypassing every kind of forest, holding a sickle that I don't know how many times I ground, and I cut it hard. I am sweating all over, just like taking a few baths, but those baths are all salt baths. My head, eyes, waist and body are all salt. At this time, the mouth is like a fire, and it is about to crack. Finally found a family and asked for a bowl of rice porridge to drink. Suddenly, I seemed to have gone from hell to heaven, and my throat suddenly cooled a lot. This is my deep affection for rice porridge. Up to now, I am covered with rice porridge? Blood? You can't eat anything else. If you eat it, you will have diarrhea. Only this rice porridge can make me drink for more than 60 years and extend my life to the present.
The sky opened its white clouds, orange sunshine filled the sky, and I stepped onto the bridge. Dark green color, streams gurgling, birds singing. I can't swim like Third Sister, and I don't have the courage to jump into the river to play. Every time I cross this bridge, I get scared. This bridge is a handrail made of rope. Let's string the boards together with a rope. When you walk, the board will. Cheep, cheep, cheep rattle. Where there is running water, the vegetation is more lush and the songs of birds are more beautiful. I don't know when the fragrance of those flowers has floated from the deep valley, and the ducks of those farmers have swam to the bridge in droves.
Where is the fragrance of flowers? In which valley? Seeing that it was still early, I struggled to cross the bridge and walked deep into the forest. I will keep walking until the river blocks my way, but I will see camellias smiling and nodding in the wind everywhere. Colorful, red, yellow, white, pink, like the fairy sisters in the myth, wearing long sleeves and singing songs from heaven and earth. Those petals rolled up slightly, as if they danced differently, some were gentle and some were bold and unrestrained. Now, my hometown is not the original hometown. The wide river narrows; That jasper-like luster definitely disappeared for a few minutes; The clear county town is contaminated with black sewage and garbage. On the river, there are no fishermen, calves or ducks, the happy figure of Third Sister wandering around the river, the back of my mother playing clothes by the river and the pleasant happiness when I herded cattle. Some are reserved and some are affectionate. Dark eyes make people feel uneasy.
Since then, every time I cross the bridge, as long as I smell the intoxicating flowers and imagine them being shy and unrestrained at that time, my fear will be reduced a little.
three
Now, the rickety wooden bridge has been replaced by a white cement bridge, and people no longer have to be afraid to cross the river; There are all kinds of high-rise buildings on both sides of the river, which are no longer adobe houses in the past.
You gain something, you lose something. People live the life of city residents. Are all the food, birds and animals on the table? Regular customers? ; Television, computer, refrigerator and washing machine have long been common household appliances for villagers; Roads extend in all directions, and all kinds of foreign cars and domestic cars fly on them; Well-off life is close to rural life.