And when I return, the laughter will remain
Huang Ling
Today, the unit was on duty, got up early, ate breakfast, sent his son to school, and rushed to the unit. Along the way, car after car, the traffic police uncle began to check the helmet at the intersection again, the bicycle carried people to work on the street, slowly driving towards the destination, last night a thin layer of snow, lightly fluttering like immature cotton wool, fluffy and sparse, has been the cold morning wind blown to the roadside flower pond near the side, the road has a layer of ice skates, students you chase me to hurry up, eager to sit in the bright classroom, to see the people who have missed for a long time. The city that had been sleeping for a long time has finally regained its former vitality, and it has a new atmosphere from head to toe.
A ray of sunlight spread out in the narrow alleyway in front of the kindergarten, and the calligraphy on the wall in the shadow became so conspicuous. A pair of eyes given by the night became bright, the commonplace things were so eye-catching, and the paintings made on the accumulated snow, each with a smile, blessed everyone who passed, happy forever. The towering building is a kaleidoscope in the pupil, like the slow presentation of the film bridge, and every frame is a beautiful scenery.
In winter, most of the trees are dead yellow, with a few small leaves hanging from the branches, swaying and about to fall back to the earth, and there are also green trees, such as cypresses, pine trees, which are a different scenery. There are also trees with small red fruits, which look from a distance, like the ornaments of the bride's headband, touching the romantic poetry in love.
The windmill in the kindergarten yard rotates spontaneously, making a rattling sound in the cold wind, and at first glance, it seems that children are reciting a good children's song. The dead leaves and the rotten melon seedlings of the hoe garden have been cleaned up by the diligent teacher, and only a few wooden shelves for vines and plants to climb are stationed alone in the soil, like a late twilight person who is in contemplation, and the prosperity of the spirit is almost coveted in the pumpkins cooked by the teachers with kindergartens. The pigeons fluttered in the small two-storey house, and the grunting sound seemed to be telling funny jokes. When the children eat lunch and walk at noon, they like to gather around this place, watching, laughing, and the children's voices are full of love for pigeons. Maybe the pigeons miss the children too, and you see their round eyes saying, "Hurry up, I like to see you running freely in the yard." "The pigeon is the beloved bird of the children, and the children become the comforters of the pigeons' hearts.
I walked in the courtyard of the kindergarten, thinking about the happy time playing with the children, when the sun was slightly warm and every smiling face was blooming. The little girl with the round face, the girl who laughed like an angel, and the little boy who was called "permed hair" by the children all gathered around me, touching me, secretly patting me, and even stealing kisses me when I was not paying attention. Slides, stilt walking, jumping circles, Toys for Angie's games, and the hidden areas of the little house are eagerly awaiting the return of the children. After returning, the long days we slowly passed, zero and zero total happiness, we slowly recorded.
And when I return to kindergarten, there is love, there is light, there is hope, and there are soft dreams.
(About the author: Huang Ling, a national kindergarten teacher, a woman who likes to write and draw.) ）