This article is a fictional story, and some of the plots are fictitious, and any similarities are purely coincidental.
Text | Zero Seven Story Meeting
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My name is Zhang Hui and I am a teacher at a city middle school. Every day revolves around class schedules, student assignments, and family life. My wife also teaches at the same school, and our lives seem to have found a rhythm that belongs to the city.
Whenever my parents' voices came from the other end of the phone, reminding me to go back to my hometown, I always had mixed feelings in my heart. My hometown is in a small village in Henan, where there is an old house.
For years, my parents wanted me to go back and renovate the house, but I always felt like it was a declining investment. It wasn't until last month that a sudden family reunion forced me to revisit the issue.
The feeling of coming back to my hometown is always complicated. On the one hand, I feel warm about the familiar customs, and on the other hand, I can't help but feel a sense of loss when I look at the fields and dilapidated houses that are gradually falling apart.
When I went home this time, I thought it was just a routine, to accompany my parents and attend a party, but I didn't expect it to become a spiritual touch.
The party was held under the old locust tree at the head of the village, and every household brought their best food. The atmosphere in the village is lively, with people coming together to talk and laugh.
When the respected elders of the village began to talk about the history of the family and the future of the old house, the atmosphere of the gathering seemed to be solemn. The elder was an old man in his seventies, and the firmness and wisdom in his eyes made people awe-inspired.
He recounted how, many years ago, every family built their own house, which was not only a place to live, but also an emotional sustenance for generations.
The old house is a symbol of our family, witnessing countless changes and ups and downs of family members. His words were filled with love for the land and reverence for the bygone years.
"Zhang Hui, you may be accustomed to the convenience of high-rise buildings in the city, but you should not forget where your roots are. "The elder's words shook my heart, and I tried my best to keep my composure, but the turmoil in my heart was hard to subside.
He continued: "This old house is not just made of wood and bricks, it is the hard work and sweat of your predecessors, and it is the soul of your family. ”
I looked back at the old house, the walls had been eroded by the years, and it looked mottled and old. As far back as I can remember, it used to be a place for our family, but now it seems so deserted. The elder's words seemed to echo in my ears, forcing me to rethink the significance of this house in my life.
At the end of the meeting, I walked alone on the path home, the words of the elders and the images of the old house constantly replaying in my head.
Suddenly, I realized my deep affection for the land and its importance to my family's history. I began to wonder if I had been too arbitrary about investing in my hometown.
That night, I couldn't sleep, lying on the bed in my childhood room, the familiar sound of crickets outside, but the excitement and uneasiness in my heart that I had not seen for a long time.
I think of my wife and my life in the city, can she understand my contradictions, and should we invest in maintaining a home that we may never return to?
But the elder's words were like a light that illuminated my understanding of family responsibility. It's not just about respecting the past, it's about investing in the future.
The next day, I sat with my parents in the courtyard of the old house, and I tentatively presented my ideas to them. When my father heard this, my eyes softened, and my mother's eyes were slightly red.
I said, "Maybe we can try to renovate the old house and bring it back to life, not only for ourselves, but also for future children to know where their roots are." ”
The father nodded and said, "Son, this house is like an old tree of the family, although it is old, it is deeply rooted. That's what it's waiting for. ”
After deciding to rebuild the old house, my wife and I began to discuss the specific details and plans. We looked up a lot of information on renovating old houses and talked to several architects.
Just as we were preparing to act, an unexpected piece of news broke our plans. It turned out that the elders in the village suddenly fell ill and were in critical condition. The news sent the whole village into a state of worry.
I rushed to the hospital to visit the elderly, who was lying on the hospital bed with a pale face. He smiled reluctantly when he saw me come in, expectant and concerned in his eyes.
He held my hand, and said in a weak but unusually firm voice: "Zhang Hui, I may not have much time, but I believe you will make the right choice." That old house is not only our history, but also the abode of our souls. Hope you can get it back on its feet and witness more stories. ”
On the way home, I was silent. The words of the elder hit me like a hammer on my heart, and I felt a sense of responsibility that I had never felt before.
I began to think about what this old house meant to our family, to the village, and to me personally. Yes, it's not just a simple renovation, it's a legacy of family history and a commitment to the future.
My wife and I sat in the living room, and the night view of the city outside the window contrasted with the old country house in my heart. The sound of the traffic seems to be gone, leaving only our plans for the future and memories of the past intertwined.
At that moment, we all understood that rebuilding an old house is not just about repairing its bricks, but about repairing the family roots in our hearts that should not be forgotten. This decision, although not easy to come by, is necessary.
That night, I had a dream in which the old house was renovated in the moonlight, and my parents were smiling at the door to welcome their loved ones returning from far and wide. When I woke up, the confusion in my heart had dissipated and was replaced by a firm belief.
In the months that followed, we started the renovation of the old house. Every time I go back and see those familiar faces and old houses that are being revived, I feel a deep sense of satisfaction. This is not only the rebirth of the building, but also the inheritance of family memory and spirit.
In the courtyard of that old house, I wrote these words, thanking the meeting and the wise elder whose words helped me rediscover the meaning of home.
I hope that this house will continue to bear witness to our family's story and let future children know that no matter how far they go, the harbor of home is always waiting for them.