Qi Zhou
I suddenly remembered my mother, who was also working day after day, leading me forward with the wind and going farther and farther. But when I grew taller, she could no longer bend down, but looked up at me, and then gradually withered, like an exchange and replacement of life.
"Why don't you come to my field to pick cotton?"
As the first National Day holiday in Xinjiang was approaching, a few of my classmates and I decided to stay at the university and find part-time jobs because we were far away and wanted to earn some living expenses. The roommate felt that part-time jobs such as distributing flyers and selling drinks made too little money, so he proposed to go to her house to work as a flower picker, saying that the current labor is valuable, and if you work hard, you can earn two or three hundred yuan a day. A few of us were moved by this "huge amount of money", but we didn't expect that the ordinary cotton would be so valuable.
It was the first time I had seen such a vast cotton field. In the field, the chubby cotton, which was whiter than the clouds, had all bloomed.
It was also my first time picking cotton. Picking cotton is a skillful job, at this time the hard cotton peach has cracked, we only need to put our fingers together, with a light hand, we can harvest a cotton. Before I knew it, the cotton bag behind me was getting heavy. But soon, the weight of the bag weighed me down. At the same time, frequent bending over also makes me tired. After nine hours of hard work, the first day of flower picking was finally over, and I picked more than 80 kilograms in total, which was the most among us, which made me feel a little comforted from exhaustion. However, the next day, I was so sore that I didn't want to get out of bed until the sun was shining and I remembered my promise to "last to the end", so I rushed to the cotton field full of shame. In the days that followed, we picked more and more cotton, but it became more and more difficult to bear the pain caused by the frequent bending, and we all wanted to buy tickets back to the city at once, and only when we calculated the daily increase in wages, did we be a little happier.
The emotional outburst came on the last day, when I picked the most cotton, only to be suspected by my roommate's uncle of having weighed clods in my bag. The tiredness and pain of the past few days accompanied by the grievances at this moment made me argue and shout uncontrollably, and burst into tears. I remember how I later cleared my grievances, except that my roommate and her uncle apologized to me and gave me a cotton pillow. Later, whenever I think of the past in the cotton field, I will remember this large piece of whiteness, which represents sincerity and purity, reminding me to always keep a pure heart and be innocent in my life. I also always remember the magnificent scenery of "green buds blooming in autumn". Although cotton is not as purple and red as spring flowers, nor is it as gorgeous and affectionate as summer flowers, it is quiet and beautiful, simple and valuable. It can not only help people survive the cold winter, but also help rural revitalization.
Since then, my enthusiasm for "part-time work in the farmland" has also increased, and whenever winter and summer vacations and festivals are coming, I will ask around in advance to see who is short of helpers.
Gou Miao, probably many people don't know what this means. In northern Xinjiang, because of the vast land and strong sand, the field usually covers the seedlings with a film to protect the seedlings, and in the spring, it is necessary to manually dig a hole in the film so that the seedlings can grow smoothly. This process of helping the seedlings to drill out of the film is called "hooking the seedlings".
It was the Qingming Festival holiday, and I went alone to the sunflower field of the alumni's house to do the work of hooking seedlings. At that time, the temperature was not very high, and when you looked around, there were no trees or flowers in the land, and the wind blew sand from time to time, raising the yellow sand in the sky. Hooking seedlings is also a tiring job that requires people to bend over frequently. I bent my back, walking from one seedling to another, and whenever I looked up, I saw a desolate scene in front of me, which was the real "facing the loess with my back to the sky". For three days in a row, I looked at the yellow sand in the sky, and I didn't feel the vitality of the growth of all things in spring, I just wanted to finish the work quickly.
However, in the spring of two years in a row, I chose to do the farm work of hooking seedlings, because it was time-consuming and laborious, so I was paid more. Whenever I was so tired that I wanted to lie on the ground to rest, when I turned my head, I could always see the seedlings in the small pit behind me who couldn't wait to stand up with their little bodies, just like children who left their mother's arms for the first time, learning to fly high and learn to grow. I suddenly remembered my mother, who was also working day after day, leading me forward with the wind and going farther and farther. But when I grew taller, she could no longer bend down, but looked up at me, and then gradually withered, like an exchange and replacement of life.
The climate of Xinjiang and the north and south of Xinjiang is very different, and the northern Xinjiang has only finished hooking the seedlings, and the melons and fruits in the south have ripen one after another, and the mulberries are the first to ripen. During the May Day holiday in my sophomore year, I went to the village in Yarkand County to pick mulberries. Although this job does not make much money, it does not need to tire the waist and can fill the stomach. The owner of the orchard invited us to eat the mulberries vigorously, and these mulberries were so full of grains that the juice splashed everywhere when I took a bite, and in a short time I ate my mouth purple.
In June of my junior year, I happened to be an intern in southern Xinjiang, so I went to a nearby village on weekends to help farmers pick apricots. The apricot trees are close to the wheat field, and the yellow and clear apricots are mixed with the green wheat field, presenting a good scenery of "orange, yellow, orange and green". At that time, I was in the confused period of entering my senior year, sometimes entangled in the graduate school entrance examination, sometimes I wanted to find a good job as soon as possible, so as to take over the burden on my parents' shoulders as soon as possible, but I felt anxious because of the poor major I studied and the uncertain future. It wasn't until I came to this "orange, yellow, orange and green" land, looking at the wheat that was harvested and picking good or bad apricots, that I suddenly realized: life is just like this, no matter who has a way back, whether it is mediocre or prosperous is a lifetime, as long as we have our own good scenery, our life is meaningful. And this good scenery requires us to work hard, to grow towards the sun, to actively look for opportunities to bloom.
Thinking of this, my mood suddenly cleared up, and I immediately actively participated in farm work. Even if I can't find a good job, wouldn't it be good to go farming and contract fruit forests in the future? During the summer vacation in July and August, the green walnuts and almonds here are ripe one after another, and the cantaloupe is also fragrant, which makes my wallet bulge and my stomach full, and at the same time, I also feel the beautiful taste of spring planting and autumn harvest. Only by paying can there be a harvest, and only by hard work can there be a bumper harvest of grains, so the common truth is interpreted very vividly by the crops in the field.
In this unique part-time job, I have learned a lot of knowledge outside the classroom, whether it is the white character of cotton, the tenacious vitality of seedlings, or the way of struggle taught by melons and fruits, I have gained a lot. Every flower and fruit is a good time, and so is life.