Photo/Is Sun Benjian
The mother of the locust will want to do,
The scepter stands for a long time on the east side of the gate.
Strong laughter is hard to hide the tears in the eyes,
Frequently look back and listen to ding-dong.
Sun Ben saw the works
This is a seven-word poem about the mother, who has died for the third year, and when she leaves home, she will never see the old man's trembling figure and very unwilling eyes. The father also left less than a year after his mother left. The day before yesterday I went to the mountain to see my parents, it was still early from Qingming, there was no burning paper money, just poured a glass of wine for my parents and sprinkled it in front of the grave, my wife had tears in her eyes, choked and said, Really fast, in the blink of an eye it has been three years. Today is the Lantern Festival, tomorrow will be in Beijing, just put the paintings and paper pencils in the painting institute paint packed, and then returned home to simply put the clothes and luggage together, the time has been more than nine o'clock. Beijing a suzhou, Suzhou a Beijing, running back and forth, both mental ups and downs, but also physical rushing and laboring, the current epidemic prevention and control, but also to the travel to add some indispensable procedures, each time after returning home to a few days to ease up.
My parents are gone, I have less of that concern, and with the gradual increase in exhibition activities in Beijing, I feel busier and busier, and the number of times I go home is gradually decreasing. For this reason, I have gathered my old friends as much as possible in the past few days. Meet, chat, drink. I didn't read WeChat for a day, I simply ate a meal, poured a glass of water, sat down and opened my mobile phone, and the festive colors and cheerful atmosphere of the Lantern Festival were filled with sweet glutinous fragrance in every inch of space.
The fireworks of the moon outside the window with fireworks to end this year's festival ceremony, the past year and the warmth of the mother, have become a new memory code, countless memory codes piled together, people in front of the door like the big locust tree, it is covered with a dense layer of wrinkles. My wife said, don't go to Beijing in two years, how old are you, live a safe life at home for two days. I listened and didn't speak. The article is written after returning to the holiday wishes of friends, and when you type the text, the warmth of being with old friends and the sadness of leaving home are all present at the end of the finger. Tomorrow morning, I will sweep the locust seeds in the yard again, and look at the place where my mother sends me every time, and my wife is packing her bags, and the bags of food are placed next to the suitcase, and I say, don't take it, you can't take it. At eleven o'clock in the evening, everyone's blessings and fireworks in the night sky continue, and through the auspicious flames, I wish my friends all the best.
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