It seems that there is a nameless river in everyone's hometown, it is wide or narrow, deep or shallow, turbulent or gentle, but no matter what, it is always remembered and unforgettable.
That nameless river may not have a name, but it carries the memories of our childhood!
My hometown is in Fujian, and my home is in a small mountain village, which is a place with beautiful mountains and rivers. The village is surrounded by rolling mountains, and there is a small river in the village, which goes around the mountains, through many fields and villages, and then around our village, and then carries the memories of our village, flows to the Tingjiang River, flows into the distance, and runs to the embrace of the sea.
The water of the river is crystal clear, the small stones and aquatic plants at the bottom of the river are clearly visible, and the small fish swim freely in the water, which is very happy.
The creek is flanked by lush trees and green grass dams, and the grass blooms with a variety of wildflowers, red, yellow, white, purple, colorful and beautiful.
The small river is like a belt around the village, the villagers call it "belt water", the river water in the gentle flow of the mother's warmth nourishes the people on both sides, the villagers on both sides of the river sleep on the river, live by the water, live by the river, enjoy the grace of the belt water, benefit from the blessing of the belt water.
In my memory, when I was very young, every morning, the women of the village would carry a large bucket of clothes to be washed, and the most populous families would carry them to the river with a flat pole.
There are many large natural rocks along the river, which are scattered along the river, and the women use these stones as washboards on which to wash their clothes.
They waved the mallets in their hands and struck their changing clothes, and they chatted while washing their clothes, and from time to time there were bursts of laughter and laughter.
Not far away, a flock of ducks quacked, laughing, laughing, duckling, and birds in the trees, intertwined to create a beautiful village symphony, accompanied by the clear water of the river slowly flowing into the distance.
The clear water of the river flowed in their hands, taking away the dirt from their clothes and the fatigue of the day.
After washing their clothes, they would hang them on the branches of the trees by the river, and the colorful clothes swayed in the wind, becoming a beautiful scenery by the river.
My elder brother was one of the first photographers to help people take ID cards in the village, and he often hung up his camera and took a lot of beautiful photos in the village, one of which was a warm picture of the village women washing clothes in the department, and won the second prize.
I miss the small river in my hometown, when the river was so clear that you can even see the stones and fish swimming at the bottom of the river.
At that time, the villagers used to fetch water from the river for cooking. The early morning sun shines on the surface of the river, sparkling. Early in the morning, the villagers carried buckets and walked briskly to the river. They skillfully beat the clear water of the river with wooden barrels, and the water splashed out of the barrels like crystalline pearls. After the water is brought home, it is used to wash rice, wash vegetables, and cook rice, and every home-cooked dish carries the sweetness of river water.
The water in the creek is so pure, without a trace of impurities. It originates from a clear spring in the mountains, flows through a tree-lined valley and converges into a clear river.
The villagers are well aware of the preciousness of the river's water and the importance of protecting it. They don't litter the river, they don't pollute the river, but they take care of this gift of nature.
On the way home, the villagers may meet their neighbors, greet each other, and exchange trivial matters about life. This simple and sincere exchange fills the village with warmth and humanity. The river bears witness to the life of the village and serves as a link between the villagers.
Nowadays, with the development of society, tap water has been used in many places, but that clear river is still an eternal memory in my heart. It taught me to cherish natural resources and the close connection between man and nature.
When I was a child, in the hot summer, we often wore only pants and swam and fished for shrimp by the crystal clear river. The grass dam on the riverbank was our playground, where we rolled and played hide-and-seek, and laughter echoed in the air. Sometimes, we would secretly pick a few cucumbers grown by the villagers on the riverbank, which was a crisp and sweet yellow cucumber with a delicious taste and endless aftertaste.
That good time, though gone, will forever remain in my memory. Whenever I think of that little river, I feel a kind emotion in my heart, as if I have returned to that happy childhood.
Nowadays, with the change of times, it is rare to see the scene of washing clothes by the river. I will never see the clean and clear river water and the beautiful lawn dam again.
But that beautiful memory has always remained in my heart.
Today, only a few small old bridges lie across the river, and they are like sleeping beasts, quietly guarding the peace of the village. The mottled bridges bear witness to the changes of the village, and every trace on them is a mark of history.
Each stone on the pier reveals a natural texture, as if telling its story. These stones have been eroded by wind and rain and tempered by the years, and they are still as solid as rocks, exuding a simple charm. Their surface is uneven, covered with moss and mottled marks, which are a testament to time.
Walking up the bridge, you can feel an atmosphere that is completely different from the modern city. There is no hustle and bustle of vehicles and noisy human voices, only peace and quiet.
The river under the bridge is babbling, and the breeze blows on the cheeks, bringing a touch of coolness and comfort. Standing on the bridge and looking around, you can see the green trees on both sides of the riverbank, and the mountains in the distance are rolling and undulating, as if a beautiful picture is unfolding in front of you.
Those hard-working old farmers, with hoes on their shoulders and old cows in their hands, walked slowly across the bridge. Their steps are heavy and steady, leaving deep footprints. These footprints have witnessed their hard work and the change of years.
Every time there is a market, the villagers will come from all directions. They carried baskets and burdens on their backs, and shuttled across the bridge. The bridge was bustling with people. The villagers greeted each other, exchanged parents' shortcomings, and conveyed the emotions and warmth of the countryside.
The children who went to school, dressed in bright clothes and carrying heavy school bags, ran happily across the small bridge. Their laughter and singing echoed across the bridge, leaving traces of their childhood. These footprints bear witness to their growth and their thirst for knowledge.
There are also villagers who have gone out to earn a living, and they have stepped out of the village from the bridge with dreams and hopes. Their footprints faded away and disappeared into the distance, but their stories remained forever on this small bridge.
This small bridge has witnessed the transformation and development of the village, and it is a bridge of memory for the village. The years have left traces on the bridge, and every footprint is engraved with the hard work, joy and hope of the villagers. No matter how time passes, this small bridge will always be a part of the village, carrying memories and emotions for the people.
Although these bridges have survived, they are still an important part of the village. They connect the two banks, which is convenient for the villagers to travel and has become a unique scenery of the village. Every time you walk across these small bridges, you will feel a kind of historical precipitation and cultural heritage.
I often sat alone on the railing of the bridge at dusk, quietly listening to the sound of the water.
The river flows quietly under the bridge, making a crisp sound that seems to tell its story. I looked into the distance and watched as the sun slowly slipped into the sky, and the sky gradually turned orange-red, which was beautiful. The river and the small bridge are shrouded in the afterglow of the setting sun, and everything becomes extraordinarily peaceful and beautiful.
At this time, I will feel extremely calm and tranquil inside. The beauty of the sunset and the flow of the river made me feel the passage of time and the endless life.
I think about my past and future, and think about the meaning and value of life. At this time, I feel that I am one with nature and feel the power and beauty of nature.
Such moments make me feel the beauty and happiness of life.
The villagers finished their day's work and walked over the bridge. Their tired figures were reflected on the bridge deck in the light of the setting sun, and they were stretched out to be elders. These reflections sway gently with the steps of the villagers, as if to tell the people about their hard work and tenacity.
At night, when the moon is shining and the stars are shining, the villagers sit around the river and wash away the fatigue of the day with the cool river water. After washing, they gathered on the bridge and chatted while enjoying the coolness. Laughter echoed under the night sky.
Some of them shook their fans to fan away the summer heat, while others lit cigarettes and swallowed clouds in the night. They tell anecdotes, talk about national and family affairs, and share bits and pieces of life. The long family and the family trivialities have become the subject of their chat. In modern parlance, this small bridge is their "liaison information station". They gather together, speak freely, and release the stress of the day.
Before you know it, time passes quietly, and the moon fades into the clouds. The village finally returned to quiet, and everything sank into a sweet sleep. And that small river is still flowing and flowing, as if telling the story of the village and inheriting the memory of the village.
On this quiet night, the villagers enhanced each other's feelings through communication and sharing, which also made the small village more warm and harmonious. With the sound of the flowing water of the river, they fell asleep and looked forward to the arrival of tomorrow.
There is a small river in my hometown, a small river without a name. This small river grew up with me and witnessed my childhood and youth. No matter where I am, I will remember that little river and the beauty of my hometown.
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