280 days of life creep
When I first felt a strange nausea and vomiting, I felt that I already had you, and when you first transmitted a slight squirm of life, I confirmed your existence.
With you, I have everything that a woman should have, and with you, I understand the meaning of being a woman. Look, the rhythm of my dirty room is so heavy, and you listen, my blood is so turbulent. I felt like life was spreading and stretching like ivy.
The expectation in the flatness actually bulged up the long-cherished wish of erection, and the weak shoulders began to silently carry the heavy challenge, so I felt solemn and sacred. My tree of life draws tender sprouts, and your thirsty sprouts knock ripe thoughts. Don't say that I am pregnant with you, but that you occupy my heart.
I have become no longer a picky eater, and in order to give you abundant nutrition, I refrain from jumping and so that you can grow peacefully. I also became fond of reading poetry, listening to music, and reading magazines and books on prenatal education. I learned to sit behind the beautiful breeze, hide in the light of the boudoir, and in the long wait, caress your swelling day by day, and feel your strength again and again. In the beautiful fantasy, perceive your subtle sound and conceive your future image.
280 calendars, tearing up the torment of colic, 280 days and nights, looking forward to the dawn of hope. A new world is born before your eyes, and old dreams are fulfilled by my side. Your first hoarse cry is your first solemn oath to the world, and you are also my sincere kneeling thanks to my ancestors.
Baby, who are you? You are the extension of my life, you are the continuation of my hope, you are the fission of my life, you are my one, you are our one.
Mother, my poetic mother
Literature was my childhood dream, and it was ignited by my mother.
My mother was the daughter of a landowner, and with my maternal grandparents fleeing in a hurry, it became the long Sauvignon Blanc of her life. Since I was a child, I have been hazy and hazy in the rhythm of my mother's poetry.
My mother and her mother, separated by a distant strait. And my mother always stubbornly hummed "shake, shake, shake to grandma's bridge", her voice was sad and soft, but it was enough to coax me to sleep. When I was three years old, she taught me to read and recite Tang poems, and she laughed at my little ass: go to the next level, and have a smooth butt.
In order for me to finish her homework, she even locked me in the room. She said that there is Yan Ruyu in the book, and the article has a golden house. She often tells the story of Qu Yuan and the Dragon Boat Festival, saying that it is the zongzi feeding the fish, in order to prevent the fish from devouring the poems of a generation of masters. She said that Li Bai had no ambition, and only cared about traveling in the mountains and rivers and writing all kinds of wine poems.
She asked me to "willow tops and red crisp hands", comprehend the euphemistic thoughts of Li Qingzhao and Lu You, and interpret for me the silkworm poems in which Li Shangyin buried his feelings in the mulberry leaves. He also recites in dialect Mandarin the poignant and tragic poetic painting of the Tang and Song Dynasty Biansai, as well as the graceful and bold soft and rigid temperament.
She often sings alone, although her voice is a little wheezing, and occasionally a little off. But whenever she sings about the funeral flowers of Yue Opera, her eyes are often moist, and when she sings about the five heroes of Erlang Mountain and crossing the Yalu River, she is passionate and high-pitched. It was not a pure song, and it had been flying throughout my childhood.
Mother, who ignited my poetry, is my master and my poetic mother. And the reluctant belated kowtow can only be directed to the grave. Now I've learned to write poetry, mother, you can try it.
On Father's Day, savor the Father's Medal
Soon after my father left, I ruthlessly kicked out the secret room of memory, and I suddenly remembered it when Father's Day broke out in the circle of friends.
His life is simple but not simple, he joined the People's Liberation Army before the founding of the People's Republic of China, and he did not have lofty ideals and shining expertise in his life. From the army to the seamen, from the performance of duties to retirement, from the beginning of spring to the great heat, from the beginning of autumn to the great cold, in addition to cooking and food and three taels of liquor every day, until the day when you are admitted to the hospital. But as a father who is fond of food, he actually pulled out more than one million savings from between his teeth as the last gift to say goodbye to his children.
In the nearly 30 years since his retirement, he has always paid attention to his health level, and he is determined to keep fit, and he walks five kilometers a day, and in the last years of hard and confident life, he has lost more than 10 kilograms. He once fed a family of six by himself, and the heavy burden never crushed his body, but an unexpected fall caused him to fall outside the bustling and noisy earthly walls.
When my father was alive, he often drank a little wine leisurely while looking at the Liberation Medal issued by the State Council, and his face always had a childlike smile on his face, which was the only proud praise in his father's life. Later, I understood that only the resolute rise of the older generation can exchange for today's petty bourgeois life. Every time I think of my father's simple and ordinary life, the image of my father comes to life and I am in awe.
On Father's Day, I took out and savored this Liberation Medal, and I saw that he was still flashing in my years, and the sorrow in my heart gradually dimmed, but my eyes gradually brightened.
My foolish grandfather
My grandfather grew up in the countryside, and his legs and feet never got dirt. When Grandpa was a child, he always liked to fold and fold, birds, paper kites, and people in ancient costumes lived in his dreams, and this kind of craft became the head of Shili Township Road, and also became his exclusive iron rice bowl.
He is the earliest self-employed person in Wenzhou and even in the country. Wear the government's small shoes and wear the big hat of the capital. And the grandfather's skillful hands stubbornly fiddled with all kinds of paper works in the years, giving the deceased a degree of transcendence and family comfort, so as to exchange for a field.
Later, he moved his dream to the town and put on a set of comforts that could accommodate three generations. I only remember that my grandfather always built a paper house without stopping, and there were maids and maidservants and emperors and generals living in it. His business was a powerful explosion in my ignorant childhood, like crayons smearing the rainbow color on the horizon.
I am the eldest grandson of my grandfather, and I have been held in the palm of my hand since I was a child, and I have been attentive to my growth, growing into a vine that climbs the courtyard wall. At that time, I only knew that wine and food were all my grandfather's happiness and sustenance, and that when the tide was high, the fishermen would carry the burden, and when he passed by my house, he would become the first choice, with live fish and shrimp and crabs, and his beard-like eight claws.
I wondered about my grandfather and his skill. Why was his brother swallowed up by the smoke of gunpowder, but he still insisted on sending my father to the battlefield, and asked my father to abandon his craft, become a soldier with peace of mind, and make meritorious achievements. When I was a child, I was puzzled, but now I am solemn.
When my grandfather left, he took my little hand and gasped and said: My grandfather has been fooling all his life, and he has to study to make a fortune without relying on his craft. Now I suddenly understand the meaning and weight of his last wish. I am proud of my grandfather, who awarded my father the precious Liberation Medal.
The pillars of the home
You have a home, I have a home, we all have a small family, you love home, I love home, there are lovers and children and parents at home. Twenty years ago, I wrote a lyric "Home", which won an award for lyrics in the province. When my parents were alive, I felt that home gave me more than a sense of attachment.
Home is a post station, snuggling up to it when you are tired of trekking, and home is a harbor, pillow it when the wind and rain are stormy. We are noisy at home, we are laughing at home, there is love at home, and love blooms at home. An ordinary small home, an ordinary life, full of the mood and fun of life.
Home is the starting point, a journey of thousands of miles starts from home, home is the end, and you have to go home at the end of the world. We rested and played at home, we ate and drank at home, from the beautiful morning sun to the magnificent sunset. Simply go out and come back safely,
It tells the characteristics and simplicity of human nature.
After my parents left one after another, I felt that my shoulders were very heavy, and although I still had a lot of savings, I had become the pillar of the family.