Mom's childhood memories

Mom is more than seventy years old this year, and her physical problems are more. I accompanied her to the doctor to prescribe medicine, and her condition improved. Mom couldn't help but sigh that grandma was also these symptoms, and could only resist to death, sighing. People feel lonely when they are old, and I often walk with my mother, telling stories about her childhood as I walk.

My mother was born in Guangdong province on the way to escape the wilderness. The first memory is to sit at one end of the basket picked by grandpa and dangle, and at the other end there is a pot and six pairs of chopsticks. Grandma took two tarpaulin umbrellas to lead the brother-in-law, the eldest aunt and the second aunt had a roll of seats on their shoulders, and the uncle did short-term work to change some rice while exploring the way, adding a lot of wild vegetables and boiled porridge to drink a full of water. Stop and go along the way, looking for a paradise to fill your stomach. At that time, the uncle was 17 years old, and he was already the top pillar of the family, flesh and blood, and dared to fight. If there is nothing to do, I rely on my grandmother and aunt to beg. In the face of three famines in May, I was forced to give my 15-year-old aunt to others, exchange thirty pounds of beans and ten pounds of rice, and survive the two months of hunger. After taking a tired step to Gannan, I wanted to stop. In order to change the status quo of survival, the ten-year-old second aunt was sold to others to get five points. The uncle worked day and night in the fields. The crops in the field are the best in the village, they are red-eyed, they steal as soon as you leave, and there is very little left. Grandpa almost sold his brother-in-law, but was stopped by grandma. The uncle thought that this place should not be stayed, and he asked his fellow villagers who had left early while walking. The Guangdong people united and helped each other, and later all took root in the Ji'an area. Start to build a nest on a two-figure shelf with fir bark on the ganjiang side of the Ganjiang River. Later, the land was divided and rooted in this red land. The diligence of Cantonese people is well known. Locals admire Cantonese people for spending the winter with a pair of single pants, but only they know the bitterness. The years are like a currency, and the former deserters have turned over with their diligence and intelligence. With the passing away of the older generation of Cantonese, the memory of the spotted foil will eventually drift away with the wind.

Once lost, once heartache, once for you reluctantly, how many painful moments, left in the memory will never fade. Who will remember this difficult journey of migration?