Winter courtyard, what an empty word
Author: Pod
In the courtyard, except for the bare ground, they are all covered with snow, the leaves of the fruit trees are all gone, and there are sporadic unpicked grapes on the vines, if you eat, pick one and throw it into your mouth, like a hockey, slowly melting into a sweet and sour feeling. Suddenly, I felt that autumn was just yesterday, and in the blink of an eye, it was deep winter. Alive, there is always a sense of haste, not like when I was a child, anxious to do many things, time is even slower than margins, now look back, there is nothing worth doing in a hurry, because there is no hurry, it should come or come.
I never felt that one day my mother would leave. I thought that life would be like that day by day, without hurry, without end. After the death of her mother, she sorted out the relics, one by one, and could not be removed from her heart. I sat on the steps of the small courtyard, the sun falling overhead, shining on all the corners of the courtyard, every corner could not be cleaned, could not be separated from my mother. Two years later, my father was gone.
There are many things that need to be adapted and are not negotiable. In the days after my parents left, I still maintained the original rhythm of life, and the content also tried to remain the same. The cherry tree is still like the mother when she was alive, and in the early summer it produces a tree of cherries as red as fire, and when you eat it, you will feel that your mother is still there, pick a handful, and go into your mother's kitchen.
Maybe the mother only eats one or two, and it doesn't matter how much she eats, as long as the mother eats. There were also cucumbers from the vegetable garden, crispy, and one was picked and handed to father. Father must have taken it. My father would eat slowly and talk to me slowly. It doesn't matter what you say, as long as the father says it.
After the parents left, on a sunny day, the sunshine always seemed less real, and even felt cheated. The sunshine has always been like that, neither sad nor happy. If the heavens are affectionate, the heavens are old, and the heavens are not old, so the heavens are merciless. Every day I do amorous things under the relentless sun, endlessly missing my lost loved ones, and these thoughts are of no benefit, except to make my courtyard more empty, so that the hand reaching out to the sun cannot feel a trace of strength.
My heart was once unable to extricate myself. When night came, the sky was full of stars, and the brightest stars I designated were my father and mother, who were watching me. I don't think they've left, I think they're going to stay in the world in a different way. How they give up, how they give up in this world, and how they give up their beloved children. However, some things just happened, I was separated from my parents, and my parents and I were dead.
Now, I paced through the clean, winter courtyard. On the ground, there is no boundary between the seasons, not even a single fallen leaf. The ground could not have been so clean, and when the autumn wind swept away the leaves, it didn't seem to be intentional, it was just blowing, and then carrying something away, and nothing was left.
Dead leaves always walk very crisply, even if the autumn wind does not blow, it is the same as the intention of extinction, as if the wind is helping human beings to give the meaning of death in this way. As for where the dead leaves went, some of them had directions, and some of them blew out and disappeared. My deceased parents are like this dead leaf, on the earth, living through the spring, summer and autumn, and in the winter of life, they walk clean and cut off all thoughts.
It seemed that I had also reached the time to clear my heart, and my hand that reached out to the sun was passing through the middle of winter, trying to reach the spring not far away, which was the warmth of memory, the gentle hand of my mother, holding me and giving me strength. At this time, if she really looks at heaven, she will find that I am still the child in her eyes who calls her ruyi.
From 2021-12-30 00:30 · Pod Literature
About the Author:
Dou Xianjun (Dou Pod), female, currently living in Heilongjiang, engaged in prose and poetry creation, since the 1990s began to publish poetry and prose works. His works have appeared in many publications such as Shilin, Novel Forest, Petroleum Literature, Years, Guangxi Literature, Tokyo Literature, Taihang Literature, Juvenile Literature, Chinese Prose, and Presence. Some works have been selected for multiple prose anthologies. The masterpiece "No Heart Grass" won the "PresenceIst Prose Award" of the 2012 Chinese Folk First Prose Award. The collection of essays on "No Heart Grass" won the Harbin Swan Literary and Art Award in 2016.
Editor: Ma Xuemin
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