After my father was transferred from another coal mine to Shangyi, my mother and several older sisters and brothers also came to the dam. The youngest of my family was born here, and I have tied my lifelong love to this land. The winter time on the dam is long, and the summer season is short. Precipitation is particularly low each year, and it is an arid area. It is the main crop here, and both men, women and children love to eat it. The mother who has just arrived at the dam for a few years is really not good at making noodles, not as good as the locals, rubbing fish and fish without anyone's fine, pushing the nest does not need to be mentioned, it will not be at all. "One side feeds the other." Since you have come to the dam, you have to integrate into the habits of the dam. Plus those years, in the years of supply, I had to eat the rough noodles and cornmeal. I was different from my sisters and brothers, and since I can remember, I have formed a deep complex with Yingmian. He is particularly fond of noodles, whether it is the coarse fish that his mother rubs, or the puppet eggs made with yam.
When I was a child, the living conditions were extremely harsh, and eating a meal of steamed bread and rice was a luxury, not to mention dumplings and buns. At that time, the identity of the noodles was not high, and it was divided into the ranks of coarse grains such as millet and corn, and fine grains specifically referred to white noodles and rice. Although the status of the noodles is somewhat low, it is particularly resistant to hunger, so the people on the dam eat the noodles in a different way. Growing up in my hometown, my sister and brother were not used to eating noodles, and when I saw my mother making noodles, my face immediately "turned from sunny to cloudy", and I was not happy with my mouth, and I didn't say anything, I ate when I was ready, and never provoked my mother to be angry.
Eating the noodles is also a hassle, you have to use boiling water to cook, steaming on the pot. I remember when I was a child, my mother took me to visit a local woman's house from time to time, and my mother always said, "My children want to play with your children." "Later, we learned that it was my mother who took the opportunity to visit the door and wanted to learn someone else's craft. My mother really learned the craftsmanship of others, and also learned a lot of tricks, and made great progress in making noodles than before. My sisters and brothers all went to work, and sometimes they came back and asked their mother to make a meal of noodles to eat. By then, I was a little older, as if I was in the first grade of junior high school. My mother made noodles, and I watched by my mother's side. I saw my mother boil the water and immediately pour it into the basin, stir it with chopsticks while pouring it, and then rub it back and forth with my hands, and my mother's hands were often burned red. I asked my mother why she didn't wait for the noodles to be cold and then knead them, and my mother said that after reconciliation, she would knead them immediately, or the noodles she would not be able to make. I saw my mother pull the reconciled noodles into small pieces and rub them with both hands, and in a few moments, the slender and long noodles, fish, fish and fish dancing elves jumped out from between the mother's dexterous fingers, and in a few moments the kung fu could rub out a large cage. The nests pushed by my mother were neat and thin, as if they were made from a mold, and they looked at each other from all directions, as if they were troops under review, and I was stunned by the side. My mother said that when you grow up, I will teach you to make noodles, so I look forward to growing up every day.
I grew up, but my mother got old. At that time, we learned to make noodles, and we never had the delicious food made by our mother. My mother's hard life, with hard work, pulled me up, and how much effort I paid. Mothers, like wheat, are not afraid of hardships and hardships, and have been living on the dam, raising us and loving our children.
My mother has been away from us for many years. Whenever I think of my mother, I also think of the noodles made by my mother.
About the Author:
Yang Jingrui, a native of Shangyi, Hebei. Originally worked in the Publicity Department of Jizhong Energy Zhang mining group Shangyi Mining Co., Ltd., and now lives in Zhangjiakou City. In recent years, literary works have appeared in more than 20 newspapers and periodicals across the country, such as Hebei Daily, China Coal News, China Mining News, Zhangjiakou Daily, Great Wall Literature and Art, as well as 10 online media such as People's Number, Baidu Number, Today's Toutiao, Edelweiss Literature, And Shangyi Cultural Tourism, and have been hired as special correspondents and columnists by many newspapers and periodicals.