I'm telling you, I'm not I have never complained about rainy days. It rained for ten days, half a month or even a month. The room is covered with wet clothes like a national flag, and the walls and floors are wet. I don't complain. I like rain, not because I can hold my umbrella and listen to the ticking of rain on its back, but because I like rainy days when it never rains. Why, I don't understand. It seems that rainy days always take me to another place, away from this disturbing world. There, I can enjoy my happy childhood again, meet my relatives and friends, and visit all the good places that fascinate me. Swim freely. Those interesting good times, I want to string them together with a string of rain beads and wrap them around my wrist.
This morning, I opened the curtain and saw the glass covered with water drops. Oh, great, it's raining again.
Look out the window and let me savor it slowly. At that time, I was only six years old, sleeping in my mother's warm arms. At dawn, I was relieved to hear the rain on the back of the tile. Because long-term workers can't go to the fields in rainy days, mom doesn't have to get up early to cook, but she can lie under the hot bed for a while. This moment is my happiest moment. I can't bear to sleep, and I won't let my mother sleep, clamoring for her to tell stories. Mother closed her eyes and told me the story of rainy days. There was a blind man who had no umbrella on rainy days. A passer-by felt sorry for him and took an umbrella all the way home. When the blind man came home, he said that the umbrella was his. He also asked his neighbors to judge, saying that his umbrella had two ribs tied with hemp thread and a hole in the handle. You are absolutely right. It turned out that he touched it while walking, and the owner of the umbrella gave it to him with a smile. I said this blind man is good or bad! Mom said it was not bad, because he was too poor. The owner of the umbrella thought he really should have an umbrella and gave it to him. The owner of the umbrella is a kind person. In the morning light, I looked at my mother's face. Her forehead is square, her eyebrows are slender and her eyes are narrowed into a line. The teacher who taught me to read said that Bodhisattva has a pair of kind eyes, and my mother probably looks exactly like Bodhisattva.
The heavier the rain, the better. The tinplate sink in front of the eaves jingled, and I sang folk songs to the beat. As soon as my mother got up, I followed. Without breakfast, I put on my uncle's old boots and played in the yard in the rain. The sewer is full of water, and the white hydrangea petals fall in the mud ditch. I floated the small wooden boat carved by Arongbo in the ditch, and in the middle sat the scarlet "girl in cloth" sewed by my mother. Hydrangea petals flow forward together around the small wooden boat. I followed the small wooden boat through the mud and creaked. It was not until the teacher came that he was taken into the study. However, the teacher came late on rainy days. He has beriberi, just like the swollen leg of a cucumber. It is inconvenient to walk on the ridge road with spikes. I really hope he tumbled into the paddy field, so I don't have to read Chinese characters.
When it rains, the long-term workers don't go to the fields, but they all squat behind the big barn to push the rows. I held Xiaohua Mall in my arms, and I sat in Arongbo's arms again, waiting for Arongbo to peel crispy fried beans and send them to my mouth. I eat sesame candy when beans are full, and oranges when my mouth is dry. Belly bulging like a bee. A pair of eyes staring at Pai Gow, there are white spots and red spots on the black side. At one time, many policemen were pushed to the east and west. It is equally interesting who wins and who loses. I just want to rain heavily. When it rains heavily, they can't go to the fields, so they keep pushing and discharging. When the teacher asked me to learn Chinese characters, Arongbo would tell him, "Koharu has a stomachache and went to bed after lunch and tea." Teachers don't bring umbrellas to the barn. Mom, as long as I don't pester her, I don't know if I have gone to school, so I play truant all day. It's sunny when it rains, I eat and play, long-term workers love me, and there are many people in my family, so I won't be lonely.
Wet rainy days are good weather for winding, and the twine is soft and won't break. Mother skillfully rubbed thin linen with her hands and loaded the machine. The axle turned with a bang and the rain followed. Uncle Wu and I helped cut the thread. She is presbyopia, her mother is nearsighted, and only my sparkling eyes are in charge. I don't have to write letters, big or small, to help. Lazy fourth aunt didn't help at all, but fell on the coffee table and sobbed to write a love letter to her uncle. I glanced at two sentences: "I hate rainy days, and colds are always bad." In fact, she has a cold nose all the year round, and she can't blame the rain.
Huangmei in May is sticky everywhere. My mother complained about going in and out, but my father sat on the porch enjoying the rain with Yixing teapot. All kinds of flowers and trees in the yard, new green branches after the rain, spread their wings playfully and hold delicate flowers. In the light rain, my father lit them with his pipe and told me that this is lilac and that is red. Dali flowers and gladiolus are competing to open, and osmanthus is scattered with a faint fragrance. Gao Yulan near the wall is covered with trees, which wither quickly in rainy days. I have to get up quickly and pick a basket for my neighbors. The water drops on the leaves of Magnolia grandiflora are all fragrant and spilled all over my head.
Drummers always grope their way in from the back door of my house on rainy days, sit on the bench in the kitchen, drum and sing a song about Qin Xuemei's funeral and Zheng Yuanhe's learning to be a beggar. Mom listens while cooking. Tears hung all over my cheeks. I pulled up a green apron and wiped it. Then I quickly filled a bowl of Kazuhiro Mori white rice for the blind man and gave him a big bag of rice. If it doesn't stop raining, my mother will leave Mr. Blind, let him take a nap in Alonbo's bed, sing in the hall at night, and invite all the neighbors to listen. Everyone heard that Pan Zhai invited people of all ages to listen to drums. In the middle of the spacious hall, a bright gas lamp was on and hissed. As soon as the gas lamp is on, I feel happy, and I can't tell you how happy I am. Adults sit on rows of benches and bamboo chairs, while plush chairs made of mahogany and marble are crowded with children. Red footprints are printed on the tea table. It's raining harder and harder, and Mr. Blind's drum is beating louder and louder. Singing Meng Lijun and Qin Xuemei, my mother and my fifth uncle and fifth aunt cried their eyes red, so I ate fried rice cakes and peanut candy. Father sneaked into the study to write his Tang Poetry.
During the typhoon season in August and September, there was the most rain, but the grain in the later period had to be dried after harvesting. At that time, there was no weather forecast, and it was up to experienced long-term workers and mothers to look up at the sky to predict the weather. Cloud feet grew hairy and flew to the northwest, knowing that a typhoon was coming. I'm so happy. Because you can put on Arombo's big spikes and go to the river to watch the flood. Mother frowned and worried about the mountains of millet under the corridor. It's moldy after a few days. Xiaomi's mildew is a green song. Mom asked me and my little helper to sort out the music, otherwise it would be more and more. This job is very interesting. I hope it won't be sunny all the time. There are more and more songs. You can roll around in Xiaomi every day and choose songs. Don't study any more. Mother put a coffee table in front of the porch, lit incense and read the Sun Sutra to bless the sky to clear up quickly. I remember the Sun in my heart, and I followed it, but from the low wall of the yard, it was a blur. A gust of wind, a shower of rain, heaven and earth together, I can't see clearly. It doesn't look clear. The happier I am, the more worried my mother is. Why is mom so worried?
When you go to middle school in Hangzhou, you can take a tinkling chartered bus to school on rainy days. Pull all the way into the school gate and reach the door of Shensitang. You can play ball in the gym in rainy days, without going to physical education class on the big playground or changing your clothes and pants. I hate lantern-like black pants. There is a long cement road from the classroom to the gymnasium, with green holly and green lawn on both sides, extending to the back of the gymnasium. The students were having fun, so I sneaked here with an umbrella. It is so hidden and quiet. I stood under the buttonwood tree in France, and the water drops on the tip of the umbrella fell on the back. I feel sad and lonely in my heart because I miss my mother who is far away from home. I miss her especially when it rains. Because when I was a child, I had more time to haunt her only when it rained. Rain gave me a feeling of being close to my mother.
It's good to rain on Sunday, because "rainy days are the day to play cards", menstruation said. Dad and she left me alone as soon as I played cards. I can sneak out to see a movie, invite my classmates to my house, climb three floors to "rebel", steal golden dates and chocolate candy from the storage room, and watch Fat Lao Liu stir-fry delicious dishes in the kitchen. After frying, I must eat the first chopsticks. You can put down your homework at night and concentrate on watching a dream of red mansions. My dad won't come in with a pipe in his mouth and force me to recite the views of ancient China literature. Sparse shuffling sound, caught in the boundless rain, gives me a sense of security.