(Photo Photography/Sea)
After the Mid-Autumn Festival, it is time to harvest sweet potatoes in my hometown. For those of us who came from the 60s and 70s, I am afraid that there is no food that is more profound than the memory left by sweet potatoes. Although modern medicine is advocating that sweet potato is the most cancer-proof healthy food, it is difficult to suppress the acid water that overflows in my esophagus when I think of sweet potato.
As the main food of that year, sweet potatoes filled my childhood and adolescent memories: it provided me with the most basic guarantee of life and growth; At the same time, it also left me too many bitter memories. In particular, I remember the bowl of sweet potato porridge for my fourteenth birthday in the late autumn of 1973.
My generation, especially the same age as me, who grew up in the countryside, should say that childhood and adolescent life are sour. Due to the long-term consumption of sweet potatoes or sweet potato processed foods, it is very eager to be able to eat white noodle foods. In addition to the Spring Festival can eat dumplings at home, usually do not see noodles. The only exception in my family is that the mother will make a bowl of noodles, or gnocchi, on each child's birthday. Birthday people eat noodles, and others drink some soup. The temptation of pasta is enormous, so it is also urgent for us to look forward to the arrival of our birthday.
It was in this desperate anticipation that my fourteenth birthday was ushered in. I clearly remember that October 23, 1973, was the twenty-eighth day of the ninth month of the lunar calendar. I was in a particularly good mood at school on this day because the principal read my essay throughout the school. After school, the class teacher, Mr. Xu Maozi (who was also my Chinese teacher), left me and asked me to transcribe the essay on the standard paper, saying that I would represent Zhoucun District to participate in the exhibition of excellent compositions of middle school students in the city.
After the composition was copied, it was dusk. I walked alone to my home two kilometres away.
As the sun sets, the sunset reflects the sky in a brilliant and colorful way. In the field, a neat wheat field stretched out into the distance, and the wheat seedlings that had just emerged were green and green. Thinking about the honor of the essay exhibition and the pasta I can eat when I get home, my steps are brisk like a happy deer.
When I returned home in a happy mood, the family had arrived to prepare for dinner. I put down my bag, quickly scanned the table and pots, and saw that each bowl and pot were full of sweet potato porridge, and the disappointment rose up. So I left the table, took a maza and sat down in a corner.
My mother saw that my mood was not right, and came to me and asked, "Why don't you eat and fight with your classmates?" "..."I was gambling and didn't say anything.
At this time, the whole family stopped to eat and looked at me. My mother saw that I was not speaking, returned to the dinner table, and handed me a bowl of sweet potato porridge. "Don't eat! Don't eat! Don't eat! I yelled angrily, and with a "bang" in my hand, the bowl fell to the ground and shattered, and sweet potatoes and porridge spilled everywhere.
"What's wrong?" Hold on to you, don't eat and get out," the father roared. For the first time in my life, I saw my father make such a big fire.
My father's anger made me very frightened, and with the grievances in my heart, I cried out "wow", and then rushed out of the house and ran along the river path into the dense woods of the river beach.
In the late autumn and early winter, a thick layer of leaves has fallen in the woods, and at night, the cool breeze through the thin clothes, mercilessly stinging my thin skin, watching the flowing water of the river continue to go east, the grievances in my heart, loneliness, helplessness, mixed with hatred in my heart. I kept sobbing, letting the tears run wild on my face.
"——。" "——。"
With a loud cry, I struck a chill and woke up from the dream. In a daze, I saw that the whole family was by my side. It's so cold! Then I fell asleep again in a daze.
I woke up again in the morning of the next day, and when I opened my eyes, I saw that it was the white walls of the hospital; Mother's bloodshot eyes, and her pale face like a wall. Seeing that I was awake, two lines of tears instantly flowed from her face. A string of trembling notes came into my ear: "Child, you are scared to death." My young heart was touched for the first time!
It's been almost fifty years, but the guilt of my fourteenth birthday has always occupied my heart. What I regret most is that in my parents' lifetime, I didn't even say a word of apology. I write it out today, I can be regarded as an apology to my parents, may the spirit of the parents in heaven forgive their son's young ignorance!
—— Written on September 1, 2022
About the author: Sun Taimin, pen name Jianghu Flower Farmer. A native of Zibo City, Shandong Province, he was born in November 1959. University culture. In 1978, he joined the Chinese People's Liberation Army Air Force, and in 1986, he transferred to the Zibo Branch of CCB. He loves poetry and has published many works in military newspapers and local newspapers. In 2021, he participated in the national "National Art Poets Cup" Grand Prix and won the 19th place.
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