When I was a child, I always hated the old and dilapidated hometown, but my hometown never blamed me for being young and ignorant. When I grew up, I always complained that my hometown was too far away, but my hometown never complained that I had not returned. That long-lost hometown will always be the most stable place in your heart...
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Text/Chen Weihua Photo/Source Network
"The young man left home and returned to the old man, and the township voice did not change the sideburns. Children don't know each other, laughing and asking where the guests come from. The cute little daughter was reciting He Zhizhang's "Book of Returning To The Dolls" in a childish voice. From time to time, I asked me the meaning of that sentence, and I answered it meticulously. When he asked me, what feelings does this poem mainly write about the poet? I said that I mainly wrote about the poet's longing and love for his hometown, that is, nostalgia. My daughter seemed to know how to nod her head, and then smiled and walked away, while I fell into the thought of my hometown.
The first thing that catches my eye are the relatives in my hometown who are looking forward to my return home. Every time I heard that we were going home, my grandparents would walk on crutches and stagger, waiting for us at my door early, and when they saw us coming from afar, they would shout the names of the children.' names. When we approached, we would hold the children's hands, kiss and kiss, hug and hug, how can not kiss enough, hug not enough. Then take out what they are reluctant to eat and put it back into the hands of the children again and again, and the strong ancestral love always deeply touches me. At that moment I always vowed to come home more often when I had time.
But in the past year, many, many changes have taken place. Grandma fell out of bed in June and spent nearly two months in the hospital; because of her old age, after repeated treatment by the doctor, she could no longer stand up and could only lie in bed. Grandpa was also diagnosed with advanced lung cancer, and after ten months of fighting the disease, he was finally swallowed up by the ruthless disease and died. The greatest joy of going home every year is that mom and dad, grandparents, grandparents are still healthy. But from this year on, I will never see my grandfather again, and my hometown without my grandfather is always mutilated and imperfect. At the thought of this, my tears couldn't help but flow down.
Since then, my kind grandfather has also become the biggest pain in my heart. I also finally understood how painful it was for a son to want to raise and not to be kissed. I can only pin this deep love on my grandmother. Although Grandma could no longer walk, many things were gradually forgotten, but only the love for us was not forgotten. Hopefully, in Grandma's later years we will all be able to love Grandma doubly. Every time I go to the supermarket, I will choose some various nutritional products suitable for my grandmother to eat, and I only hope that I can bring them to my grandmother when I go home and feed my grandmother by hand.
Growing up, I loved to eat my hometown's burnt cakes, and every time I came home, my mother would prepare a large stack of baked cakes for me. The roast cake in my hometown is big and round, and there are full of sesame seeds on it, and when you bite it, it is always fragrant and endless. Dad always prepares many, many toys for my children and takes them to play with them when they come home. For many years outside, there are always many unsatisfactory times, but as long as you think of your parents' kind eyes and ardent hopes, you will always be full of strength and courage to move forward.
As my thoughts stretched, I remembered my own childhood, and my childhood only happened in my hometown. In that barren era, although life was hard, it was also extremely happy and happy. There is always a group of uninhibited, unrestrained hairsters who accompany me crazy, laugh with me, and play with me. Twenty years have passed, and we have all started families and have children of our own. Even though I go home every year for the New Year, I rarely get together for one reason or another. Fa Xiao classmates, always have a kind of worry and concern in my heart, after all, we once lived in a village, from primary school to middle school has been growing up together slowly. I often think of them inadvertently, and I know that this is a small plot that cannot be erased, and the warm and warm memory is deep.
Time has passed, the memory is fresh: catching crickets, catching mice, jumping rope, jumping high, jumping leather bands, nazi, barefoot on the tree; building snowmen, stealing watermelons, catching and so on, all childhood anecdotes will still haunt the mind. Now, twenty years later, we are no longer the ignorant teenagers, and the ruthless years have left fine wrinkles on our faces, but they can never fade the memory of getting along with each other. That childhood friendship is the purest and most unforgettable, and it is worth remembering and following for a lifetime.
The fields of my hometown are also something I miss immensely. The field, in the eyes of the rural people, is a place of cultivation, in the eyes of the poet is a harbor of inspiration, but in my eyes it is a paradise. It has the strongest breath of nature, and it feeds us like a mother throughout the year.
In the summer, in the distant wheat fields, the golden wheat is connected like a golden ocean. As soon as the breeze blows, the wheat is like layers of waves, lapping at each other. In this ocean, the harvesters become fishing boats, and they slowly sail by, leaving the straw-filled roads as the aftermath of the fishing boats.
In autumn, the golden corn comes into view, and the grains are full, like fat dolls. The fathers and fellow villagers had a satisfied smile on their faces, and they broke the corn hard while talking about this year's good harvest. In addition to the sound of corn leaves "rattling" in the field, there is also the sound of "snapping" corn, and the birds that fly by chirp and chirp, as if singing the joy of this harvest to the fullest.
Whether it is spring, summer, autumn or winter, cold or heat, wind blowing or sun, there is always its most unique beauty. Every time I think about it, it always makes people feel very kind, and they are full of tears.
For many years outside, there is always a kind of thought lingering in my heart inadvertently. I've never figured out what that is. It wasn't until I matured that I realized that it was my hometown calling to me. No matter when and where you are, just think of your relatives in your hometown, the grass and trees in your hometown. It always makes me sleepless at night, I don't want to think about food, and every New Year's Festival, no matter how far away and how hard the road is, I will always go home to see it. It's almost the New Year, and my family of four is about to embark on the road back to my hometown, and when we get home, I will tell my homesickness to my long-cherished relatives.
My beloved hometown! What can't be read is nostalgia, what is constantly chopped is nostalgia, the end of the world, you are my eternal concern, but also the most stable place in my heart!
About the Author:
Chen Weihua, a native of Heze, Shandong, now lives in Weifang, has published many works in the company's paper magazines and public accounts, loves to travel, loves to climb mountains and loves to write articles. Always believe that learning is a kind of faith, as long as you insist on it, you will realize your dreams.
One point number Caozhou Wenyuan