The epidemic has been going on for a long time and is still continuing. I don't have the initial panic in my heart, but I still have to guard against it. So, people who are outside, please pause your return home, people who are ready to go far, please pause your pace.
The fighting in the distance continues. On the Internet, all kinds of voices are higher than a wave, which is right and wrong, it is really difficult to distinguish. I only know that many people are here because of artillery fire, and their lives are moving towards an inflection point. We are in this far east, in this land of peace. Blowing the gentle March wind, bathed in warm sunshine. Live well! Live well!
In the early morning when the sky is slightly exposed, in the sunny afternoon, in the twilight twilight, I want to go out for a walk. Where to go? In the spring of March, I want to go to the depths of time, to the village fields of my childhood, to the shallow river beach, where there are pieces of "Mao'an" waiting for me to pick and taste.
It was the age of returning home from the village elementary school with a school bag. A group of children abandoned the wide road from south to north and walked on a field next to a small river. The field is uneven, and there will be chai roots poking through the soles of the shoes. But it was such a long field that we walked tirelessly, because deep in the thatch there were roots of thatch.
Mao An, it was a sweet snack from the March of childhood. After a winter of dormancy, they protrude from the yellow thatch and look at the spring-like world. The wind blowing from the far south made them stretch out comfortably. They burst out of the fields of the village and out of the dry thatch of the ditch shoals like crazy, as if they had filled our sight overnight.
We hummed the nursery rhyme, brushing aside the yellow thatch, looking for a fresh figure of Mao'an.
"Mao'an Mao'an one skin, peel off a smaller skin; Mao'an Mao'an has two skins, peel off the small second skin..."
Who made up this ballad? I don't know when it spread? There is no beauty, but every child will hum.
We hummed out-of-tune songs and searched for Mao'an on the shoals of the creek. In fact, you don't have to look for it too much. They are visible, they are everywhere. The more I saw, the more I looked at the thin one, because of the lack of nutrients, such a Mao An did not chew his head. We specially selected the leaves that were fat, the roots were thick and long, peeled off layer by layer, and the inside was long and full, and they were soft and sweet in the mouth.
Mao'an of this quality tends to grow close to water sources. Pieces in pieces, along with the reeds, share the nourishment of water. To pull them out, there are some risks. Such a thing does not bother us. The bold, step by step, carefully moved from a high place to the water's edge, one hand to pluck the thatch, looking for Mao'an's figure, the other hand was tightly held by his companions on the shore to prevent slipping. Such relays often require two or three people to work together. For that bite, it was also spelled.
When the sun shines on the face and beads of sweat, Mao An also walks through its youthful youth. They faded away the lush green, and their bodies grew in the direction of the sky, blooming silver-white spikes.
At this time, Mao'an has no edible value, and its name has been changed to "Maohua". The flowers bloom into a sea of silver-white flowers. We were bouncing and rolling in this sea of white flowers, tired, lying down to look at the clouds in the sky. The white of the clouds, the white of the flowers, the dazzling people can't open their eyes.
The green and white that spread over the mountains, the sweet taste of the material scarcity years, the simple joy in the innocence of time. It was the midnight dream back in the days that followed.
I've had a lot of dreams. I will not dream of the dazzling neon in the city, nor will I dream of the long rain alley in Dai Wangshu's poem. Because it's not a familiar scenario for me. In my dreams, there are ancient villages, there are clear rivers as quiet as the surface of the lake, there are the fresh and sweet of Mao'an, there are dazzling whites of thatched flowers, and there are old stumps of trees that snake like snakes around the river. Year after year. That's the time I've had!
I read Tie Ning's "The Big Bath Girl", and Tang Fei in the seventies could wear small leather shoes and take Ma Xiao to the cinema to watch movies. I don't feel it at all! Because that was the childhood of a child in the city, and my childhood, in the countryside.
In my childhood, a piece of sugar was to be chewed in half, half eaten, half wrapped in sugar paper, and saved for the next time. In my childhood, the butt of my pants was patched most of the time, and I always hoped that the top could be longer and longer, to hold back the shyness and embarrassment that I did not want to show. The shoes are mama's mille-feuille sole, black corduroy upper, wearing and wearing, the fingers of the feet will restlessly stick out through the upper of the shoe...
Human memory is selective, stubbornly remembering scenes that cannot be repeated but will never be forgotten. The time is no longer up, so it gives it all to the dream. And dreams are more like a life in another time and space for me. All the regrets of my life can be made up there.
The inflection point of life depends on the time and place. Natural disasters cannot be escaped, wars cannot be avoided, and these may make our lives change at a certain time, so that our life train turns on the track we did not expect. Excluding these factors, many times, which direction to go, the decision is in their own hands.
The Buddha said that Huigen decides good and evil. Huigen is how a person chooses his own life at a critical moment, such as choosing what kind of person to spend his life with, which is also his own Huigen. Many years later, have you ever asked yourself: Did you choose the right one?
Am I right? Am I wrong? Years later, even such questions lose their meaning.
One day, in a dream, I saw a butterfly that took off from the pond of my childhood, flew over a shallow beach full of flowers, and flew over the sea of people flowing in the river. That was when I was a child, traveling through time and meeting the me I am now.
Time is shallow, and the grass flowers are shattered in the dappled light and shadow, which is the swaying of childhood in memory. Time is not worth it, and the years are safe!