□ Luoxue Village
It's almost New Year's, thinking of Mom.
Many years ago, a girl in the unit was late in returning home after work on the day of Chinese New Year's Eve, and she was afraid of the New Year because she had no mother.
At that time, I still had my mother, the home of the New Year, and the warm family affection was filled with red fire and celebration. Mom said: Hello, I am good; I am good, home is there.
Like many people's homes, there are mother's days, chai rice oil and salt, plain as usual, but, sleeping soundly, someone will tuck the quilt horn for you; when it is cold, you will hear a ding-dong; when you go out, someone will not be able to rest assured for you; and your birthday, no one remembers, only she will not forget...
One day, Mr. Gao Mang and Xiaolan father and daughter came to see my mother. Later he said to me, "Your mother is very beautiful, and you and your sister are inferior to her." ”
Like many mothers, my mother was an ordinary person, from the Republic of China to the People's Republic of China, who experienced the bittersweet and sorrow shared by that generation. She also had a flower appearance, and I left an old photo of my mother wearing a cheongsam, and my mother said, "The cheongsam I used to wear, the collar is lace." Then he said with infinite nostalgia: "How beautiful is the Chinese qipao!" I like to listen to my mother sing the songs of her girlhood when she is old: "A spring breeze blows in the winter night / The backwater in my heart fluctuates / Although the warmth is gone for a moment / Who can forget the lost dream..."
Listening to it, it was like seeing an orange lamp in the cold night, and my heart was hot.
Every mom's story is almost trivial.
When he was young, he was fostered at a relative's house in Zhongguancun. Mom thought about it, she wanted to ride a bicycle from the Wangfujing unit to Zhongguancun, and then ride back to Dongsi's home. My mother didn't earn much, but every time she came, she brought me a small bag of animal biscuits, and those "little rabbits", "little goats" and "little tigers" became my playmates and mouth blessings. I was thinking about my mother, but I was actually thinking about animal biscuits.
In some years, my mother's unit had to study politics after work. One snowy night, my mother came home from studying to take the last suburban train, and I rode my bike to the station to pick her up. I had just learned to ride, and I was able to get my mom to sit in the back seat and ride and go. When I got to the door, I braked first and got out of the car, I didn't expect my mother's weight, the handlebars were cocked, I was thin, I couldn't hold it, my mother fell down on her back, and I even took the car to the ground. After the fright, the two of them sat on the snow and laughed...
Mom was not from a good background, and she did not shy away from filling in the family composition, but in that special year, she did not fight, paraded the streets, nor was she shaved her yin and yang head. Dad said: Your mother has a kind eye, never calculates or complains with people, and has not had a wrongdoer in her life.
Speaking of which, when my mother married my father, my father was already in political difficulty, and then successive movements were reorganized again and again, locked up in a cowshed, and ordered to move, and I still remember the scene of my mother climbing up to the fifth floor alone with bulky furniture.
Dad sighed in his later years: "Your mother was very beautiful when she was young, she loved to sing, she could sing, and some people pursued her, but she sympathized with me, and I didn't have a good life with me, thinking about this life sorry for your mother..."
Mom was sick, I accompanied her, woke up in the middle of the night, mom was not asleep, said I snored, "Then why don't you push me to wake me up?" The mother said softly, "My son is asleep, and I am happy." ”
For a while, I was emaciated. One day, the sick mother bought two pounds of pork belly and said that she would make "tiger skin meat" for her son. She cut the meat into large pieces, put it in cold water, added green onions, ginger, and peppercorns and cooked it semi-cooked, and then simmered it in oil again and put it into the cold water, and the skin of the meat was pleated, one by one, really like tiger skin. This is not the end, hot oil, green onions, ginger, meat simmered again, finally, pour into the old soup, simmer slowly... That day, Mom was busy until late at night.
No mother, I want to have a mother's day, these trivial and trivial things, piles and piles can feel the true taste of the world!
There are days of motherhood, do not know how to cherish, rarely have companionship, always think that the days in the future will be long. When my mother was really gone, I knew that there was no more.
Think about when your mother left, did not kiss my mother, hugged my mother, and said a word of thanks to my mother... This regret becomes a permanent pain.
There is no one in the world who does not want a mother.
I often listen to an old American song "Dreaming of Home and Mother" (later Li Shutong refilled the lyrics "Farewell"), which sang the thoughts of people in the past and the present for their mothers. When the writer Ling Shuhua returned to her home in Shijia Hutong on her deathbed, she whispered, "Mother is waiting for me to come home for dinner." "When The Russian-Jewish French painter Chagall was in his 90s, he always felt that his mother had been watching him from a distance... Saying that made him always feel as curious about the world as a child. He also heard the military writer Uncle Lin Liuqi tell that when he visited the elderly chief Yang Chengwu for the last time, the warrior who had been fighting horses all his life suddenly lost his voice: "Think of mother!" ”
In the days when Mom was there, I drew some sketches of Mom. She said: "When I think of my mother, I will look at the painting." In one painting in the ginkgo forest of Orson Park, the sick mother looks at the young children playing around and happily sings a song from her childhood: "Everyone has a father, but I am alone?" Everyone has a mother, but I am alone? The white clouds are leisurely, and the rivers flow in the east. The bird has no nest when it returns, and there is no boat when the heart wants to return..."
This song was popular in the 1930s, Zhong Shigen, Huang Ziqu, wrote a group of children who lost their fathers, hoping that they would "pick up the groans of pain, dedicate your naked son's mood, the old and the old, the young and the young and the young..." to realize the ideal of "great unity and fraternity, sharing the heavens".
When my mother hummed this song, I read the sadness in her heart from the look in her eyes when she looked at the children with joy - 41 years ago, in the harsh winter of the year of catastrophe, my mother's eldest son died innocently and tragically in the production and construction corps; for 41 years, it has been buried in the deepest part of my mother's heart... It wasn't until dying that I heard her gently evoke her son's name.
Mom is gone, there is no sorrow, but also left infinite misses.
A priest said to her children at a mother's funeral: Now, you are still alive, and the reason for protecting you to live is that your mother left goodness when she went to heaven, although the world is often cold, but her heart is always full of spring, she longs for the world to be unharmed, even if she has suffered many misfortunes, she only says warmth, not sadness...
Yes, the human world is worth nostalgia, because the mother's love is still there, it allows us to enjoy the beauty and joy of life in the "day of having a mother".
