Wen 丨 Li Yanlong
This is the fourth day of the new year, in the morning Zhengzhou issued a notice of two new cases of asymptomatic infection of the new crown, and in the afternoon, snowflakes immediately drifted, three o'clock is the size of a grain of rice, four o'clock has been like goose feathers like willows like dandelions, it is now five o'clock, the window seems to have changed color.
This snow came in time, and when all the people were still in the fear of the epidemic, the snowflakes had quietly fallen, and those memories of the snow also surged into their hearts.
"Keep a journal of recent events". I still remember this comment. At that time, I was still young, at most in the third grade, and I could not distinguish the age of the diary and the prose, but I knew that it was the homework left by the teacher, and then I had to correct it, so I wrote a diary about snow on a summer afternoon.
The contents of the diary still seem to be the warmest picture in life: you can still sit on your father's shoulders, winter, heavy snow, almost the New Year, with my father and mother to walk to my grandmother's house, but three miles away, the hands are cold and there are warm pockets of my mother, my legs and feet are tired, I have my father's strong arms, and the family pulls me to glide in the snow.
Now look at why I wrote such a diary at that time, in order to support my family, my father was busy with work, and later my mother also went to work in the county, in today's words, I am a left-behind child, of course, I will cherish the warmth of my heart.
Again, or writing, that time because of the weekend back to my hometown to delay time, my father was afraid that I could not finish my homework, so he gave me a draft of the composition, but also about snow, my father's writing shocked me, it turned out that the man who usually made me afraid could also write such delicate and beautiful words, "Snowflakes fell into the chest one by one, melted on the skin, a shiver warmed the whole body", remembering that I once saw a book of my father, which recorded his thoughts about his wife and son, At that time, my father was about the same age as I am now, and I may have liked to record life with words as much as I did, with a love of words and life, but I was consumed by life by reality.
Unconsciously, the cold had infected the body, and the snow outside the house had accumulated deeply.
About the Author:
Li Yanlong is a member of the Henan Young Writers Association, the Anyang Writers Association, and the Linzhou Writers Association. He loves cycling and likes to record his life in words.
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