This family portrait is the only photo I took with my whole family when I was 16 years old, and it is also one of the most precious family portraits I have ever saved. My mother died in 2006, and it has become impossible to take another family portrait, so this family portrait from my childhood is very precious. The back of the photo records the moment when the years are frozen - "1983, Spring Festival".
Looking at this photo, the childhood past continues to come to mind and linger, and the thoughts have long returned to the unforgettable era in the past. A family portrait is a symbol of happiness, fulfillment, and reunion, especially in the past, when taking a family portrait is full of a sense of solemn ceremony.
The past can never be copied; yesterday, it can never be repeated. But some of the memories are always worth cherishing and reminiscing about!
I was fortunate to be born into a happy family loved my father and mother. His father was from Chongqing, and after graduating from school, he went to Yunnan, met and fell in love with his mother, and formed a happy family. The symphony of pots and pans, oil, salt and rice for life was played, and in the 1960s and 1970s, my parents gave birth to our four sisters. Father is very enlightened, in that era of son preference, in the closed town where you lived, you did not have the slightest idea of son preference, never changed your love for your mother because we are girls, just because we are daughters, you gave us all your heavy father's love.
Parents are married, the world of two people who love each other, the happy time when fathers sing with mothers. This is my family's first family portrait.
I was 6 years old. I remember that it was still a difficult time, and we all changed into new clothes that we took out to wear in the New Year. My sister and I both had Ayako tied around our heads, and I wore a scarf around my neck, a doll's suit and checkered pants, and a pair of small leather shoes on my feet, looking confused. To my left was my 9-year-old brother, dressed in a khaki suit with creases on his clothes, the sneakers on his feet unable to see the color, a serious expression, his arms drooping, and he looked very restrained, like a small soldier standing guard. On the right is my sister, who was 12 years old at the time, in the 4th grade of elementary school, and wore a red scarf on her chest, which must be a red soldier. He wears a light-colored floral cloth shirt, a pair of black pants underneath, and a pair of white sneakers on his feet, white and dazzling. She stood energetically, like a little hero. The mother behind her was wearing a black jacket, with a tired expression and a pale face, with a melancholy beauty. Mom was only 33 years old at the time, and Dad was 35 years old, he was thin and tall, with thick eyebrows and deep eye sockets, wearing a dark Mountain suit, with the wasting and malnutrition of that era. I remember that my sister was active when she was a child, not only the squadron leader in the class, but also often participated in school theatrical performances. She not only studied hard, but also always helped her mother to do housework, and was her mother's little helper. My brother was a particularly naughty little boy at the time, always fighting with his classmates, and he liked to sneak to the prince's river to take a bath, and his mother did not beat him less because of this. He was also particularly capable, secretly using a red scarf to make people change into swimming trunks. When I was a kid, my nose was bleeding and I came out when I touched it, so I rarely went out to play. Always following behind my older brothers and sisters all day long, like a little tail.
The photograph is a microcosm of history, and it captures a moment of the past with great authenticity. Each of us is involuntarily bound by the trend of the times, and our personal life experience is actually a silhouette of the changes of the times in which we live, and conversely, the experience of the family is the change of history.