Qingwei ‖ homeland is difficult to leave
Text/Yang Lili
When I took my luggage and said goodbye to my mother, my tears flowed again, and my mother was busy with her work, afraid that I had forgotten to bring the loaded millet, and that I would miss the peanut oil I had squeezed at home. In fact, I hate this kind of life of returning to my homeland for a few days and leaving, the moment I picked up my bag and left the village, I felt that I had become an outsider again, the village was getting farther and farther away from me, and his body was like a twilight old man, getting shorter and thinner in the farewell again and again.
When I was a child, I thought more than once about running away from my parents and the village, and I always felt that the outside world was wonderful and free. Now I am free to leave the village and to go where I want to go, but there is a little more pain in my heart. From the cheers when I first left the village to the love when I left now, I know that after years of experience, I have made me have a nostalgia for the village and my homeland. Looking at the thinner and thinner village, watching the children raised in the village stubble away, watching the aunts and uncles who were getting shorter and shorter like the village leaning against the corner of the wall and basking in the sun, my tears could no longer be controlled.
This little quaint village, he carried my childhood years, I am familiar with his grass and trees, familiar with the bricks and tiles in each of his alleys, familiar with the aunts and aunts who come out of each door, and also familiar with the sweetness of the dates on the big date tree at the entrance of the village. In my homeland and countless dreams, I know which woods I can touch more "climbers", I know which small river to go to catch cunning little fish, I know whose field can steal the biggest and sweetest sweet potatoes in the autumn harvest, I know that the old hen of the Zhang family loves to drill into the haystacks of the threshing ground to lay eggs, I know that the mother of the dog egg likes to beat his ass by his ear, I know that Uncle Wang's shop is a treasure chest that can conjure up maltose that we love to eat. I know that it is not easy to be found in the firewood stack of the house where I am naughty, and I also know that the voice of my mother calling my name will drift farther and farther away in the smoke-filled village.
Some people say that the homeland is inseparable, the homeland is my village, the root of my fathers' reproduction, and the cradle that nurtures me. I grew up in sand pants, "soil" is the foundation of my life, I don't want to lose the imprint of my homeland on me. Everywhere I go, I am happy to identify myself: "I am a child from the countryside!" I love the land that gave birth to me! "Even after years of hard work, I have a small nest in another country, but I still can't forget my homeland, those familiar hometown flavors will still enter my heart dream at midnight, I can still dream that I picked the first date on the big jujube tree at the mouth of the village...
The distance between me and my homeland is pulled apart by time, every time my mother calls me from my hometown, my heart will sink again and again, and I hear the news that makes the village thinner and thinner again and again: "Next door you Aunt Liu is gone, only 65 years old", "Do you remember your uncle Wang's little third son, who crashed on the way home, just gave birth to a second doll." "The message my mother delivered to me by telephone became heavier and heavier each time, and I seemed to see many deceased people being pulled back to the village by hearse one after another and buried on familiar ground. I was terrified in my dwellings in other places, afraid to hear all the bad news about the village. The souls that have passed away have made my village a little shorter, and at the same time, there are also the figures of my parents getting older.
I was afraid that my village would always be short, and more and more young people would leave the village in order to survive, leaving behind the old people who stuck to their homes like mothers. Although I have been away from my homeland for many years, the attachment in my heart to my homeland is still so thick and thick. Mother said that she liked everything in her hometown, liked the freshness and freedom of the air in her hometown, and found a wasteland in her hometown to reclaim it into a small garden, plant some green onions, sprinkle some cabbage, and when she was ripe, she picked a basket and turned around in the alley, and she could exchange it for the persimmons of the Zhang family, the cucumbers of the Li family, and the beans of the Zhao family. The vegetable garden of the homeland is not fortified, there are no onions for cooking, and it is enough to take a handful in anyone's home and let you know. The children of the homeland are unrestrained, they can go down to the river bare ass to touch the fish, they can throw down their school bags, climb the trees and dig up the bird's nest, they can also roll on the green grass unscrupulously, even if they get their clothes dirty, they will be scolded a few times, so what is it, happiness is the most important. The neighborhood nostalgia of the homeland is also full of warmth and simplicity, you send me a watermelon, I will return you a blue plum, today you help me harvest corn, tomorrow I will help you plant peanuts, today there is something to go out the child no one to bring, then what is it, come to my house, not only manage the rice but also give the child a fun toy.
The road that left my hometown, I walked again and again, witnessing it change from a potholed dirt road to a brick road and then into a wide and flat asphalt road, the road is getting wider and wider, but my heart is getting smaller and smaller, and the small one can only hold the next ticket back to the homeland. The trees are tall and the leaves are rooted. The homeland is always a pain that we can't give up, the homeland is difficult to leave, it is difficult to leave not only the homeland, but also the homesickness of those who are wandering outside, "the birds fly against the hometown, and the lonely death will be the first hill", no matter how long you drift outside, the homeland is still the porridge and rice you dreamed of when you dreamed back in the middle of the night, a grass and a tree........
One point number Spring Swallow Yang Rui