Remembering Mother
Wang Yong
"During the Qingming Festival, it rained a lot, and the pedestrians on the road wanted to break their souls. "My mother has been separated from us for 13 years, but her smile is full of love, and every look and hope is intentional, and it echoes in my heart all the time, as if she has never gone far.
In the 60s of the 20th century, my mother was born in an authentic peasant family, with four sisters in the family, and lived a poor life. She is the eldest in line, and her weak body picks up the burden of the family, doing farm work during the day, and collecting shoes and sewing under the kerosene lamp at night. According to the villagers, even after she was pregnant with me for 7 months, she was still busy in the fields, so I naturally gave birth prematurely while my mother was working.
People who have experienced hard times know how to cherish it, and diligence and frugality are vividly shown in their mothers. I remember when I was 5 years old, I accidentally dropped half of a steamed bun on the ground and stuck it with dust, and I threw it into the bucket without hesitation. My mother's eyes were quick, and she quickly fished it out, rinsed it with water, and shallowly removed the skin, and finished eating it in front of my two siblings, and I was ashamed of myself. My mother's silent education made me wake up from a dream, and gradually understood: a porridge and a meal are not easy to come by; Half a thread and half a thread, the constant thought of material resources is difficult.
In addition to paying agricultural taxes to the state, my parents also have to raise daily expenses such as buying seeds and fertilizers, so they can barely make ends meet. In addition, my sister and I need to pay tuition fees at the same time, which makes the situation even worse for the family. Even so, the mother was helpful and often helped neighbors in need. I remember the night before school started, our family sat around the fire, and my mother counted the crumpled change one by one, and we stared at her and counted it three or four times. Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief to make up for my sister and me's tuition, there was a knock on the door of the hall, and it turned out to be Aunt Lan, who had just left her husband. She talked with her mother for a long time before she realized her intention: she had no money to pay for the baby's tuition. Her mother comforted her to live strongly, and without hesitation, she took out the sweaty banknotes from her pocket and handed them to Aunt Lan. At that moment, I pouted and slammed the door back to my bedroom with tears in my eyes. Aunt Lan instantly understood that she insisted on returning the money to her mother. Later, I faintly heard the sound of pushing and giving in. In the end, at her mother's insistence, Aunt Lan embarrassed to put the money in her clothes pocket.
After Aunt Lan left, my mother sat down in front of my bed, stroked my head, and taught me earnestly that distant relatives are not as good as close neighbors, and that Aunt Lan's family has suffered a major accident, and we should lend a helping hand to help her. My mother's simple words relieved me, and I gradually fell asleep. When I woke up, it was two or three o'clock in the morning, and I vaguely heard my mother and father still muttering. The next day, my father rode out early, sweated profusely and came back to lead our brother and sister to sign up, and paid the tuition fees in full. Later we learned that my mother had sold her dowry to pay for our tuition. It is precisely because her mother is usually willing to help people that she has been praised for so many years after she left.
The mother is outwardly intelligent, straightforward and hearty. That year, I was in my 20s, 1.68 meters tall, and weighed more than 120 pounds. There was a sudden enteritis, beads of sweat the size of beans broke out, and my father was not at home, and my mother was so anxious that tears flowed out. She wanted to carry me to the hospital, but I wouldn't. She saw my thoughts and comforted me: "Your father and I have no problem carrying more than 200 catties of firewood on the slope a few miles away, and it is not a problem to carry you, so you can rest assured!" I couldn't resist my mother, lying on her back and crying, I couldn't tell whether it was pain or distress.
The son wants to raise but does not wait. Mother, you gave me life and nursed me to grow up, but you drove the crane to the west early. May you have no sickness in heaven and no more separation in this world.
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Source: Sichuan Provincial Office of Local Chronicles
Text / Photo: Wang Yong
Contributed by: Qingchuan County Local Chronicles Compilation Center