A warm sun shines in front of the window, the dusty notebook is quietly placed on the table, and the thoughts drift to the distance - it is the winter in the north, it is the memory of Beijing...
In my memory, the winter here is exceptionally cold, the dry and bone-chilling cold wind blows on the face, and the life of the people is painful, but people still have to work hard day and night for the sake of their families' livelihood... Seeing that pedestrians on the street often wrapped in thick down jackets and a wide scarf, they hurried to the road.
In the memory of childhood, there is a long old alley, often selling all kinds of snacks, the most unforgettable is the old Beijing soybean milk. Its packaging is extremely simple, only a transparent long bag, but it can always attract many people to buy it at the stall. At that time, the happiest thing was to grab a handful of change in the morning, trotting all the way to the stall and saying, "Grandpa, I want a bag of soy milk." "The soy milk that just came out of the pot, steaming hot, was hot through the bag. The only place it can carry is the small corner at the top of the bag that is tied, and if one is not held steadily, it snaps and falls to the ground. He could only run home crying and crying, telling the adults in the family to take the change and buy it again.
And along this old alley to the intersection, turn a corner to the right, there is a family selling fruit. The stall owner has a female doll at home, petite and cute. She often wandered to the uncle who sold brine meat at the next stall, and the uncle kindly asked her about her recent studies and home situation, and she answered with a smirk... Xu is the interesting appearance of this young and not more important, so that relatives and friends who drift north with her parents are particularly fond of her. Uncle Also often after cooking the meat to be sold every day, he called her in, fished out a rod bone full of soup from the pot, inserted a straw and handed it to her.
Once, the little girl followed her mother, sitting obediently on the side of the fruit stall, looking around, looking for something interesting to find to relieve the boredom. Suddenly, her head turned, and she learned the appearance of an adult, bent the small body with a serious face, and picked up the fruit for the customers who came to buy fruit. She carried the fruit bag that she had picked, heavy and full, and said to the customer with great pride: "Go!" After a few minutes of waiting for the customer to leave, the aunt and the eldest lady next door exclaimed: "Na, your girlfriend did not give money for the fruit she picked for people!" The baby girl looked up at her little face in doubt, not knowing what she was thinking. Later, I heard the family say that the mother of this baby girl did not catch up...
Somewhere in the memory, there is a lake hidden. The lake was not much bigger, but surprisingly round, and the thick layer of ice seemed to be sealed by a mysterious force, isolating the noise above from the underwater world. On the surface of the lake there was a square white foam box, tightly pulled by a rope. Sitting in the foam box was the baby girl, giggling. The other end of the rope is clutching tightly in the hands of a young man, the stall owner, who is playing on the ice with his favorite daughter...
Time flies, years change. The people who used to be the stalls have grown with the city. Beijing's lights are brighter, transportation is convenient, the climate is not as cold as it used to be, and the rows of high-rise buildings have long been filled with the city of Beijing. Recalling the simple life in the depths of the hustle and bustle of that year, it has become the warmest light in the hearts of all the people in the North Drift...