Yes, there have always been some familiar things in my hometown: anecdotes that are often talked about and unforgettable; Those who are hidden or present, simple nostalgia, familiar accents; Those deja vu or vivid images are in my mind. I want to write something to her. This idea has been brewing in my mind for a long time, but I have no time to think about it. Struggle in a foreign land, often complaining about working in a big city, fast pace of life, hurry-scurry, strong negative pressure, nervous nerves. I used to comfort myself from time to time, which seems to be an impeccable reason. However, in the face of my true self, I am at a loss, and it is difficult to adapt to my inner loneliness and impetuousness. I think loneliness and impetuousness are the same as the ease, sureness and purity of my hometown. How many times in the dead of night in a foreign land, how many times I feel inexplicable loneliness, but when impetuous strikes, I miss my hometown and miss my hometown.
I can't sleep at night, and the wind blows the stars all night! Get dressed and lean on the railing, I feel Qian Qian's heart knot. Who am I talking to, looking at the vast sky, where is my hometown? Ask yourself, what have you done for your relatives, classmates and friends in your hometown, at home? For many years, I have been like a guest, always rushing to my hometown for a short stay! How many times, when we left our hometown in a hurry, how many times, when we should get together on the wine table to celebrate happiness or drown our sorrows, how many times, when we linger in the mountains and rivers in our spare time, maybe we are forgetting, and I don't know how long it will take, there is a warm hometown worth worrying about in the distance, and there are people who are already familiar with you and who are worth sharing the joys and sorrows of your life. Too often, we even forget to say goodbye with a simple intimate exhortation to the young and old, a sincere care and blessing to relatives and friends, and a powerless farewell treasure. Too often, we miss these ordinary details, but it is precisely because we ignore these ordinary details that our intimacy will become more and more alienated. Hometown, hometown, relatives and friends are all familiar but unfamiliar and distant words.
I go home every Spring Festival. Although only a few days, but every time I see and hear are informative updates. Sometimes when I miss my hometown, my hometown is very quiet and my heart is very quiet. I am quiet in my hometown, with a flower and a grass, a road and a lane, a tree and a house. Those evergreen trees surrounded by villages are luxuriant in foliage and four seasons, just like a natural green screen nestled beside the national highway, striking and bright; Those buildings with different shapes, but orderly structure and artistic sense are models of civilized villages and a unique eye-catching and warm heart; Because of the planning and transformation of the village, those long, lush flowers and small landscape trees surround Xiaoqing gravel road, and some regrets can't find the traces of the past that once ran through the clear and classical streets. While the village civilization is being built, it is very gratifying that family ancestral temple, with its blue bricks and grey tiles, green eaves and red walls and the interior of Aoki, has maintained its quaint, antique and elegant charm after several repairs, as if explaining to passers-by the cultural changes of the "Deng family" and a heavy and profound historical record of Deng.
When I leave alone, I call my mother every night. Many times, there is always loud music on the other end of the phone, which simply drowns out my mother's voice. As a result, a vivid picture of my hometown often appears in my mind: it seems that whenever night falls, especially in the idle autumn, the wide grain drying field opposite my home is a lively and extraordinary scene. The villagers, regardless of gender, age, are singing and dancing in groups of three or five, enjoying the joy of another bumper harvest. Some two or three-year-old children are happily shuttling among adults, enjoying a carefree and innocent childhood, while the elderly mother leans against the door again and looks into the distance, silently counting the approach of her son's return. ...
Life at home is comfortable, there is no need to think of yourself as a struggling foreign land, busy day and night for work and livelihood. You can sleep until noon as you like, or you can rub cards all night, or you can do whatever you want. However, what I miss and feel most happy is that the family is sitting around the raw firewood, eating, heating and chatting. My alcoholic father is drinking hot wine and burping, just like a little rich man. My mother is always pulling his father's wine container, afraid that he will get burned when he is drunk, and that he will not find his way home as soon as he steps out of the house. And every time my mother advised me to drink, my father always blushed and responded with a simple and honest smile to show gentleness.
However, on a winter afternoon two years ago, my father went up the mountain to collect firewood after drinking, and suddenly he stumbled and fell down, followed by a serious illness. In just two or three days, my father left us forever. Besides, my wife and I were getting divorced. Faced with the double blow, I am very sad, but I can't help it. I have to face the fact that my father died and I have no chance to grow old with my wife. It's just that Lacrimosa's mother has been in pain all day. In the following days, there was no smile on my mother's face and her health went from bad to worse. Even, my mother's gentle temper in the past occasionally became a little grumpy, complaining and incoherent. In this situation, I have an unspeakable pain in my heart, such as a knife in the middle of the year: for my mother's tea and rice, for her increasingly thin body, for her spiritual decadence, and for her worries for the rest of her life. To tell the truth, the loss of my father and the separation of my wife did not crush me, but this heavy and great maternal love in front of me hurt me to pieces and made me breathless. Fortunately, during that time, my companionship and timely care for my mother gradually influenced and influenced my mother, and also let her slowly return to a normal life, without worrying about my future marriage. Only in the past two years, when I went home to live with my mother alone, I had a new understanding of the definition of happiness. Those understandings about my father and his happiness when he was alive became full of happy memories!
When the rumbling firecrackers send away the aftertaste of the festival, when the mood at home has not been properly sorted out, the ruthlessness of time makes us fidgety and ready to move. The dream of flying young is destined to take root and sprout in a foreign land. The fiery youth makes us sail and sail again and again like wanderers and struggle again and again.
Time flies, singing the goal of youth all the way. A hard-working foreign land has become our permanent residence, while a real home has made us a passer-by. When the mind is tired, it is time to miss home. When homesick, home is the starting point of dreams, the spiritual sustenance, the shelter from the wind and the final conversion of the soul. When I was young, I didn't care too much about my experience. Perhaps only when we are at a loss and the leaves take root, do I remember the home that has been far away for a long time and really belongs to me, and the mellow and warm home!
No matter how far and tortuous the road under our feet is, wanderers who are working hard outside, please turn back to the direction of their hometown. No matter how long and busy our life is, please take time out and leave some time for their beloved families. Wanderers who work hard outside often go home to see!