There is always a decision in our life that will inadvertently change the trajectory of our destiny. For me, that's getting married.
A year ago, I decided to marry my husband who was far away, full of expectations for the future and a beautiful vision of love. However, the twists and turns of life were far more complicated than I naively imagined at the time. When I packed my bags and prepared to return to my husband's house, the bag of peanuts given by my mother seemed to open the emotional floodgates buried deep in my heart, and an indescribable emotion flooded in my heart.
I was born in a small village in the Great Northwest, with crystal clear streams and rolling green hills. My childhood passed under the silent protection of my parents, who were typical hard-working peasants, who got up before dawn and returned home under the stars, not complaining about their hard work, but only silently looking forward to the future of our children.
Whenever the evening breeze blows, parents will often shake the fan, while reciting the old saying "the book has its own Yan Ruyu, the book has its own golden house", it goes without saying that they may have only one simple and strong desire in their hearts - I hope that we can change our destiny through education, and find a partner who can support each other until old age.
I also have an older brother at home, and my father has high hopes for our brothers and sisters since we were children, and in his eyes it is really equal between men and women, and I have everything that my brother has. Fortunately, I was also more competitive and was admitted to a key university outside the province, while my brother stayed in the province.
On the campus of the university, I met my current husband, and my acquaintance with him was so coincidental and predestined. We first met on a corner of campus when I was preparing for my literary club activity on the grass on campus when he took members of his engineering club to commission a drone nearby.
That day, the buzz of the drone caught my attention, and I looked curiously to see a small flying machine soaring in the sky. I couldn't help but get closer to watch, and by chance the drone lost control and clumsily landed right at my feet.
I picked up the little machine and looked around, trying to find its owner. Just then, he walked over, with shaggy hair and an embarrassed smile on his face.
He gently explained to me that they were conducting routine flight tests for the tech community, as my presence disrupted his operations. We started a conversation with laughter, from the control system of drones to the intersection of literature and technology, and our common discussion of our vision for the future.
This unexpected encounter quickly turned into a regular afternoon meeting, where we discussed the world of books in the library or the mysteries of science in front of the laboratory.
Over time, we have come together and become inseparable partners not only in our spiritual support but also in life.
We went through a stressful exam week together and spent every struggling late night of the semester together. We celebrated academic honors together, comforted each other's losses, and persevered together on every heavy but worthwhile task.
In those days and nights together, our relationship gradually deepened, until we could not ignore the call of our hearts, which was a deep friendship that went beyond friendship, which slowly sprouted in our eyes, smiles, and casual touches, and finally blossomed.
The four years of college are like a microcosm, a small universe that belongs to the two of us, where we meet, know, love and grow together. Our past paves the way to the future, a vision that encompasses two different worlds.
After graduating from college, despite my parents' opposition, I was determined to marry him, even if he had nothing at that time. At that time, many people persuaded me to find a local person close to home, but I didn't know what was going on at the time, and I wanted to marry my current husband, and even had a big quarrel with my parents.
My husband's family is also rural, so in order to get us married, they bought a one-room house in the county town as our wedding room. Although this house is far away from the sweet and warm I once imagined, I was already stunned at that time, and I felt that as long as the two of us worked together, the future would be very beautiful.
However, what I never expected was that all my ideas were whimsical.
My father-in-law was an alcoholic, and he drank out with some people all day, often getting drunk, and a drunken conversation was a night of arguing, and my mother-in-law was more like a difficult inquisitor, and there was always endless chores waiting for me to complete.
I once thought that marriage was the love of two people, but the reality was that they were alone. My husband's enthusiasm for work seems to have passed with the bond of marriage, and he began to seem indifferent to everything, even my feelings.
We talked less and more, and the quarrels grew, and he became addicted to online games and cards, and he never came home at night. Some nights, as I stroked the baby in my belly alone, tears fell silently down the cradle, and I began to wonder if this was really the happy life I had dreamed of.
When the baby was born, I thought it would be an opportunity to rebuild our relationship, but the reality was far from that. The family's financial constraints and the raising of children have put our lives in one difficult situation after another.
I don't want to be rich and glorious, but at least I want to have a warm and harmonious home, but my husband's comfort about the status quo makes me anxious. My relatives and friends have secretly helped and cared for me many times, but I know that this will not be a long-term solution.
Poverty is not terrible, but it is terrible that even hope has been lost. Every time I lay on my shabby bed and looked at the dim light bulb on the ceiling, I doubted my choice.
Those promises about the future, the hopes of happiness, as the sense of distance in reality expanded, I began to regret and begin to fear, no longer the woman full of vitality and enthusiasm, but instead of the vague fear of the future.
From time to time, I began to recall the beauty of my time at home, my father spoiled me, my mother loved me, my brother protected me, and everything in the house revolved around me. Whenever I think about it, I fall asleep unconsciously, and when I wake up, tears wet my pillow, and these memories make me unable to distinguish whether they are reality or memories.
Over time, the feeling of coming home became stronger, and even though I was in a foreign country, my heart always drifted to that land full of warm memories. Every inch of my hometown, every path, and even every bush of wildflowers are deeply imprinted in my memory and cannot be erased.
Especially in the summer afternoon, when the wind from the countryside blows with the fragrance of rice, those memories of home flood in, drowning out my complaints and dissatisfaction with reality.
I miss the simple human touch of my hometown, the closeness of my neighbors, and the fact that I was always able to lend a helping hand when I needed it most. I miss my mother's craftsmanship, and the smell of the gnocchi soup and boiled pot dishes still awaken the deepest sense of peace in my heart.
I miss my father's advice and instructions, and every word and every look is full of hope for the future and ardent expectations for my children.
Family, that is the first harbor in life, and it is also an eternal concern. Although my brothers and sisters are busy, they always feel their support and love at every important moment.
When I think of the big table of reunion and everyone's smiles, an inexplicable power wells up in my heart. That warmth and support is the strongest pillar of my soul in times of difficulty.
Sometimes, the loneliness and loneliness make me unbearable, and I want to escape from this strange world and return to the warm embrace surrounded by my family.
The magpies under the eaves, the wind chimes in the bamboo forest, and the small river that flows leisurely, each contain a deep nostalgia. Home is my eternal concern, no matter how far I go, the yearning and attachment to the family in my heart is always the deepest.
For the sake of comfort, I decided to go home. When my parents knew I was coming back, they came straight to the train station to pick me up, and I burst into tears the moment I saw them, and only now do I understand that this is my real home.
The first rays of the morning sun pierced through the curtains and shone on my closed eyes, and I was awakened to the chatter and laughter of my family. When I walked out of the room, I saw my mother's busy back, my father and older siblings sitting around the familiar old table, and a long-lost sense of belonging instantly filled my heart. I took a deep breath, it was the smell of home, unpretentious but unpretentious.
Hugging each family member, feeling their body temperature and heartbeat, makes the heavy heart quite comforting. My mother's eyes shone with relief and worry, her palms were warm and rough, and she stroked my hair with her familiar, earthy hand, silently but powerfully conveying maternal love.
When I sat down, the table was filled with my favorite local dishes, and every bite was a taste of satisfaction and happiness. However, this good time is always short-lived, I lived at home for half a month, and my husband kept calling me to go back.
Before leaving, my mother gave me a bag of peanuts, saying that this year's peanut harvest was a bumper harvest, and asked me to take some home and fry them.
When I returned to my husband's hometown, I stepped through the dilapidated wooden door and returned to the cold room, holding the bag of peanuts given by my mother's family in my hand, and a complex and indescribable emotion rippled in my heart.
I went back to my room and looked at the empty room, and I couldn't help but cry with an indescribable sense of loss. In order to comfort myself, I opened the bag full of affectionate peanuts, only to find that there was a passbook inside, and there were 50,000 yuan in it.
I asked my mother what was going on, and my mother said, "Son, it's not easy for you to be at your mother-in-law's house, you can buy yourself something you like with this money, your brother and sister-in-law are usually very good to me, and often give me living expenses, I can't spend it all, so I'll give it all to you, my mother is old, and I don't want anything else, I just want to do my best to make you happy!"
After hanging up the phone, I burst into tears, tears rained down, I began to regret that I didn't listen to my mother and married so far away, but my mother still loves me and cares about me as always, but as a daughter, I can't stay by her side and be filial to her, and I have to make her worry, I really am not a good daughter.
But what can I do now? The child is not yet a year old, and I can't leave, I really don't know what to do.