Time flies, and the years fly by. In the blink of an eye, I have passed the year of establishment, although I have not left my hometown, but the days of returning to my hometown are few. The multiplicity of cities and the disturbances in society make people feel physically and mentally exhausted. Whenever night falls, when a person thinks quietly, he will think of the village of his childhood, and think of the old mulberry tree at the door of the house where I grew up and accompanied me as an adult.
It has lush foliage and a strong trunk, silently protecting this party for three hundred years. It has a memory, it witnesses the rise and fall of the village; it has feelings, it tastes the fireworks of the world, and it feels the warmth and coldness of the world's human feelings. In its dense annual rings, the history of the village is carved, and it also witnesses the multiplication of generation after generation, sending away a generation and ushering in a new generation.
The children of the village grew up playing in its arms. The mulberries plucked from the tree, the mulberry leaves that have been hooked, the silkworms that have been fed, are all its gifts; the shade under the tree is its caress; and even if it accidentally falls off its bent back, it is also its instruction and admonition. In it, hide-and-seek, bird nests, all the childish and youthful memories are with it.
In a village, if there is such an old tree in the village, the people there must be happy. Under the shade, it has become a stage for fathers and fellow villagers to gather and chat, how many stories are heard here from the beards of the old people, how many songs are sung here from the arms of their mothers, and how many news and topics are spread here... Every New Year's Festival, wedding celebration, people will paste happy words on its trunk and branches, hang lanterns, and dress it up; it will also open its arms, greet the newcomers with a smile, and celebrate the New Year. It gives people too much too much...
"Nothing is good at wood". In their hometown, the villagers consciously protect the old tree, and in their consciousness, the old tree has a great relationship with the prosperity of the village. Villagers often warn their children to fear the old trees, to fear life, and to know the rewards!
Today, the old trees in the village have gradually thinned out and seem precarious. The economy has developed, the villagers have become rich, and the old trees seem to have no sense of sacredness in the hearts of the villagers. The branches and leaves of the old tree block the lighting of the villagers' buildings, the flexed trunk of the old tree interferes with the erection of the communication cable, and it is cut again and again, and it has lost its former style, and some even say that they will take it away and transport it to the city to sell for a good price...
How many times I had touched its rough, cracked dry skin; how many times I had gazed at its rickety body, and now I was really afraid of losing it. We seem to have forgotten its grace, forgotten its love and tolerance, trampled it beyond recognition.
The simple character of the old tree represents the village, represents the people in the village, it is the soul of the village, the root of the village. When an old tree falls to the ground, a home means uprooting.
May this old tree that guards our village and our spiritual homeland never fall!
Editor-in-charge: Wang Fang YuanXiu Ruogu
About the Author
Shang Zhipeng, a native of Jiyuan, Henan, an employee of Henan Lianchuang Chemical Company, and a lover of literature.