Hometown complex
Text/Li Zonggui (Tao Sheng)
As I grew older, images of my hometown often beat in my mind, and many of the scenes of my childhood swayed before my eyes like a film film. The old house in my hometown has always stood in the years, and when I look back, I always smile and bump into me. The hair friends who grew up together, most of them now have white sideburns, and they can no longer find the appearance of their childhood, and the scenes of childhood play together are still impacting the distant memory, pulling those vague fragments back to the present bit by bit, real and warm. Every time I talk about this psychological feeling, my wife always laughs at me: I am homesick again.
The hometown is located in the west of the county seat of a larger village, the east has a low hill, the west has undulating hills, in the middle is a small river called Tangfu Water, the villagers' courtyards are mostly scattered on the east and west banks of the small river, but also can be regarded as the mountains and water, the geographical location is very superior, on the whole should be a treasure of feng shui. The village is not a strict sense of Yimeng Mountain Village, there is relatively much arable land, the mountain range is not less, before the reform and opening up, the villagers kept working on the land, and even often could not fill their stomachs. At that time, the family was poor, the life of the villagers could not see the head, the life in the countryside was simple and monotonous, the water and electricity were not available, relying on hand pushing shoulders, and every day was the day facing the loess and facing the sky, so the hometown became a place where both wanted to flee and had to go back. At that time, in the countryside, only reading was the only way to change my destiny, and when I was a child, my mother always encouraged me to study diligently, and then go out to work, eat "treasury grain", and see the wonderful world outside. Since going to the county to study high school, the hometown began to drift away, then always have to go home once a week, when the provincial city to study for college, only go home twice a year during the winter and summer vacations, after the grandmother died, the parents also moved to the county town, the number of times to go home is even less, and then get married and start a family, due to the bondage of work and family, it is rare to go back, but the plot of the hometown has been lingering in the heart, where there are childhood hazy marks and happy times, which is where my roots lie, and it is the carrier of family affection, nostalgia and blood.
In recent years, the pace of urbanization has accelerated, as the hometown of the town station, the same change in the style of modern architecture, the road on both sides of the newly built buildings are lined up, most of the young people have moved out of the village, living in more spacious buildings or larger courtyards, in addition to the village center of the old street, has not been able to find the old appearance.
The old house in my hometown has been more than fifty years old, located on the old street near the north of the village, standing alone in the years to usher in and guard the tranquility, waiting for us old masters to see her. A few days ago back to my hometown, walking in front of the old house familiar and unfamiliar street, almost every door has a rusty iron lock, along the east and west streets turned around, hoping to find the warmth and noise of the past, a circle down, did not meet a familiar face, the two big elm trees in front of the Tang family and the big locust tree in front of the Qi family's door that is thick and tall to cover the sky and the sun have disappeared, the open-air stone mill can no longer find a trace, and can no longer see the big rooster that leads to singing and the big white goose that swings and chases people. The humming of pigs cannot be heard in the pigsty, and the streets that used to be chickens and dogs jumping and people are boiling have become cold and clear, but what about the old man who plays chess in the shade of the trees? What about the aunts and ladies who are in groups of three or five doing needlework and thread pulling? What about the big brothers and sisters who carry water and push mills, send grain and dig up dung? And the little haired people who grew up crawling and bare-chested? In my childhood, when there was no family planning and every family was thriving, the streets were estimated to have no less than 200 people, and now they are almost empty. According to insiders, most of the old people on the two streets have passed away, and the young people have either gone to the city to live or go out to work, and there are only a few old people left, who are still alone in this loneliness and tranquility.
Pushing open the door of the green paint peeling off of his hometown, he stepped into the courtyard that had been unkind for a long time, striding gently, just like fear of waking up the dream of an old man. The yard was overgrown with weeds and had no necks. The old porcelain water tank, still standing silently in the corner, under the tall ginkgo tree is full of scattered fruits, the two pomegranate trees in front of the door have aged and bowed their heads, the green brick tile houses that have slipped five rooms have also become mottled with the erosion of the years, the wall tiles and red tiles have lost their original bright colors, but she still stands tenaciously, showing the thickness and vicissitudes, and against the background of the tall and wide modern buildings around it, it looks even more low and old. I stood in the middle of the courtyard, carefully searching for the cooking smoke in my memory, searching for the deep and selfless love, searching for the innocent laughter of my brothers and sisters, searching for the unrestrained friendship of the neighbors, and the warm embrace of my mother, but I could no longer find the warm atmosphere. Looking around in a daze, I spontaneously gave birth to a desolation, a heaviness, a helplessness, deep into the bone marrow, and the pain penetrated my heart. For so many years, the family, harmony, simplicity and beauty of my hometown have been shining in my heart, that is, a sweet dream, and now back in this small courtyard that carries dreams, I am suddenly in tears, unable to help myself.
My family population is large, the family concept is relatively strong, I often go back to my hometown to deal with some clan affairs, and the feelings between the clan are deeper, the number of times I go back is more, the hometown complex has been tied up in my heart, in fact, in addition to the interaction with the clan, the interaction between other neighbors has become less and less, because of the long-term work outside, the vast majority of young people in the village have not known, even if many of the old neighbors of the same generation and age have been unable to name. Under careful consideration, a place is remembered, mostly because of human feelings, and without acquaintances, feelings lack attachment. Once, a junior high school classmate from the same village advised me to repair the old house and go back to my hometown to live after retirement, because this is your root. I was speechless for a moment, I didn't know how to respond, looking back, without my hometown, there is no root, there is no current self, of course, this is not wrong, the question is that the root is still the same as before? Can I still return to my hometown?
When I was a child, the appearance of my hometown always came to mind, when the village was primitive and primitive, mostly low adobe grass houses, and the roads and villages were flat arable land, full of the smell of dirt and the aroma of crops. The pond in the middle of the village, the sound of frogs in summer is pleasant, and in winter it is a children's ice rink, and whenever the sun sets, the smoke will float over the village, just like weaving one dream after another. The Tangfu River, which runs south through the village, has an unusually wide riverbed, willows on the embankment, bunches of white flowers on tall acacia trees that reveal a refreshing fragrance, and sparkling river water like a silver streamer that extends to the next village. In the summer vacation, the children soaked in the clear river water almost all day, washed and touched the fish, and when they were thirsty, they picked up the river water and drank directly, and everyone often chased and frolicked barefoot on the clean beach, and spent countless happy times, which was the river of life in their hometown. In addition to going to the fields to do farm work during the New Year's Festival, the little friends are tired of being together every day, playing hide-and-seek, throwing hair, playing tiles, and making toys that are simple and lack aesthetics, but also have a full sense of achievement. Those clear water, blue sky, happy and carefree childhood time, just like the clear sand on the river beach exists in the bottom of the heart, every time I miss home, I pour out one grain at a time, and many of the feelings of my youth are also like rushing rivers that begin to surge, one scene after another is displayed in front of the eyes, so that I am immersed in the poetic pastoral scenery of landscape paintings, and sometimes I will unconsciously burst into tears.
Now back to my hometown, facing the dilapidated courtyard and two north-south old streets, I can hardly find a childhood playmate, and the few remaining uncles and aunts and sisters-in-law rarely go out, and the whole street is surprisingly silent. A wave of sadness rose from the bottom of my heart, and I could not calm down for a long time. The ancient poem Youyun "is more timid in the near hometown, and dare not ask people", and now finally understands the meaning.
There is no longer any cooking smoke in the hometown, because electricity or liquefied gas has long been used, and there is no romance of "dogs barking in deep alleys, chickens singing mulberry trees", because the rapid urbanization has made the countryside no different from the town. The pond in the center of the village, because the villagers have built houses and almost filled in, has long lost its former style, and the pastoral life of "picking chrysanthemums under the eastern fence and leisurely seeing the South Mountain" can no longer be seen. The wide Mother River, after many transformations, has now become a narrow ditch, the river is turbid, the fish and shrimp are gone, the scene of "plain sand sees the bottom is colorless, the bluestone undercurrent is silent" has forever become a distant memory, even the handmade pancakes eaten every day when I was a child have become large machine production, and the stone mills that were busy every day in the mill on the south end of the street have lost their creaking sound. Is this still nostalgia in memory? Sometimes I often think that society is developing, everything is changing, and the hometown has changed its old appearance, which is also in common sense, why should we ask our hometown to stay in the same place, just to take care of the nostalgic complex of our wanderers?
Nostalgia may forever remain in the poetry and memories of the past, now the hometown is not the time to get together at night to cool off, not to put a table in the yard, a few hometown neighbors to eat and drink together, not the time when farm tools and daily necessities can be borrowed at any time, there are no more children to eat a hundred meals, running around the village, chickens and dogs smelling, pigs and cattle full of warmth and tranquility, the traditional countryside is disappearing at an alarming speed, the kind of "day out of the ploughing field at night, the children of the village are in charge, The pastoral countryside scenery of Tong Sun has not been solved for cultivation and weaving, and he has also learned to plant melons in the yin and yin, and has also become a good memory.
Pen cultivation to this point, suddenly woke up, since the day of admission to the university, hometown has become the hometown, until the son went abroad to study for a doctorate, the hometown has become the root of eternal missing, destined to be no longer suitable for returning to the hometown to live and live.
(Originally written on September 5, 2021)
【About the author】Li Zonggui (male), pen name Tao Sheng, Shandong Mengyin people, linyi writers association member, senior engineer, currently working in the cultural tourism department. In addition to work and making a living, he has a sexual pen love of reading, You Xiwen historical classics, usually pen cultivation, and occasionally graffiti some poems and essays, most of which are pasted in their public accounts and circles of friends, self-appreciation. So far, he has published more than 100 essays on public accounts or newspapers and periodicals, and there are three poetry collections" "Years are a beautiful line of poetry", "Looking back from autumn", and "Flowing years, bursting lines of poetry".
One point number mantra of chastity