Scarecrow – written to Grandpa

scarecrow

Scarecrow, what are you guarding, watching over something.

--Caption

A gust of wind blew through, mixed with a hint of ripe rice. It was the autumn harvest season again, and the scarecrows in the fields spent another year in the duties of guardianship. Perhaps, it also spent a year on watch.

The first time I saw the Scarecrow was in the rice field in front of Grandpa's gate. In the spring, as soon as the seeds were planted, a newly planted scarecrow was inserted in the middle of the field. Perhaps out of curiosity about strange things, or perhaps out of a flash of doubt in my head, I pointed to the "man" in the field and asked My Grandfather: "Grandpa, what is the golden yellow in the field?" Is that a human being? My hand pointed directly at the scarecrow, and Grandpa subconsciously looked at the field, half-squinting. The scarecrow in the field was also half squinting in the spring light, with a focused and serious look, carefully observing everything in the field. In the sunlight, the golden luster surrounded it, and if it weren't for its straight posture like a pacesetter, I would have almost thought of it as a grandfather. Grandpa also had a focused look in his eyes, and only then did he reply, "That is the scarecrow, who specializes in guarding the crops." With it, the birds and finches did not dare to come and peck at the rice, and they stayed there all day and all night, just to wait for the rice harvest. Grandpa said, a shallow smile appeared on his face, his wrinkles were relieved, and a kind of trust and expectation appeared in his eyes.

Elementary school, I was in Yunnan, so I rarely went back, and I rarely saw the scarecrow in my hometown, and that summer with the faint sound of insects and the crisp music, I once again returned to that familiar place, and once again saw the unchanging scarecrow. That summer, I went down for the first time in my life. The water was a little warm, and farmers were harvesting rice in the hot sun. As soon as I got out of the water, I stared at the scarecrow tightly and walked all the way to the scarecrow. Grandpa saw that I was going to go to the scarecrow, so he directly picked me up and went straight to the scarecrow, the water was rushing, I was facing the scarecrow, I gently touched its face with my hand, it was very warm, just... I drew a smile arc with my finger on the scarecrow's expressionless face. The faint smile on the scarecrow's face in front of him was very kind. I touched the scarecrow's face, and I touched my grandfather's face—the same warmth. Grandpa smiled—the same arc.

In recent years, because there are fewer birds and finches, there are fewer and fewer scarecrows in Grandpa's village. Among the rare scarecrows, Grandpa is the most unique. Grandpa's scarecrow is new every year, but the scarecrow always has that unchanging smile on the corner of his mouth. Sometimes, I think Grandpa was also a scarecrow, and he guarded the unchanging scarecrow. But who was he waiting for?

The last time I saw the Scarecrow was in winter. In winter, the birds and finches are gone, and the scarecrows in the fields are also in tatters. Grandpa had to take the scarecrow away and pull out the straw little by little, using it as firewood. Grandpa told me that he was sick and couldn't manage the fields, let alone be a scarecrow. The pacesetter, the tenacious and tenacious pacesetter; the body that stands upright, the wind can't blow down, the rain can't disperse; the firm and persistent eyes, can I no longer see it? Full of enthusiasm, I was gradually buried by the relentless wind and snow.

On the day we left, My grandmother kept telling us, and My Grandfather just silently helped us pack our bags. When I got into the car, the silent grandfather suddenly said, "Remember to come back next year to play!" I was stunned for a moment, then I let out an "um" and got in the car. Inadvertently, I saw my grandfather's shallow smile, like a scarecrow, in the cold wind, it actually sent warmth for me. The car drove up, and I saw my grandfather in the rearview mirror. Xiao Suo's figure, even if wrapped in thick clothes, also makes people feel that the wind will fall down as soon as it blows, and the back is a bit hunched, which makes people have a sad and desolate sadness. But I saw the light in his cloudy eyes. He seemed to have hope, he had expectations, even in the cold winter, he could not hide that persistent and firm look.

In the cold wind, I saw my grandfather guarding the field and guarding the place of my soul. Grandpa was a scarecrow who had been waiting for me in that unchanging place of the soul.

Xia Zhengkun wrote on the night of May 29, 2016