People are the weakest in middle age
translucent
I don't know the reason for being born stupid, clumsy perception or being born small, or too strong dependence on my parents, in short, since I have a memory, I have always felt that my parents are middle-aged, middle-aged people who can bear all the burdens of life, although my mother was only 28 years old when I was the fourth oldest in the family, and my father was 32 years old, but I remember that my parents were not young, and I never imagined what my parents look like.
Running for life, worrying for their children, this is their driving force in life; when the sky falls, they can hold on, and when the ground falls, they can support, this is their strength; every day they face the loess and turn their backs to the sky, and occasionally get sick with a bag of headache powder, this is their resilience; finding a good daughter-in-law for their sons and marrying a good family for their daughters is their ideal in life. In addition to food and clothing worries, their life goals and trajectories seem to be very clear. Although I don't know what it's like for middle-aged parents to feel inside, I know that parents are our piece of heaven, and we are the whole world of parents!
However, when I was pushed by the years to the middle-aged train, I found that my middle age was so fragile and messy, subverting the traditional concept of "thirty and standing, forty not confused, fifty knowing the destiny of heaven", changing the unit at the age of thirty, and still a rookie in my career; at the age of forty, life was also a mess, and the naïve and naïve who did not match the age became the laughing stock of others; nearly the age of confusion, I still thought about poetry and far away, and went against the sky: what I exchanged for half a life's effort was the immediate connivance. His middle age is like a bottle of old cellar, filled with sporadic years, only to drink from himself, a little carelessness will be crushed to pieces, nothing!
In fact, I did not realize when my middle age began, anyway, there are parents, I always feel that I am a child, willfulness is inevitable, it is common to talk back, and even I don't feel that my brother has already entered middle age, because my parents are our big tree, we can rely on it at any time, we are like a bird that only goes out to forage, sleepy, tired to return to the big tree of parents to roost. Parents are our giant umbrella, we just enjoy the blue sky and white clouds, once the sky has a sudden change, they will always shield us from the wind and rain. We don't have any real pressure in life, and everything is proceeding step by step according to the life trajectory of the people around us.
On the afternoon of November 28, 2015, the disaster of the sudden landing left me helpless, and I suddenly felt that my sky had collapsed in the face of my father who had suffered a stroke. Perhaps at that moment, I suddenly realized that I had truly entered middle age: the big tree of my parents was slowly aging, and it could no longer support our heavy life, and the huge umbrella of my parents was slowly worn, and it was difficult to cover the wind and rain.
But when I wanted to hold an umbrella for my parents, I found that I didn't have an umbrella in my hand, and I could only accompany my parents in the face of the storm.
Every day at school, in addition to going to work, I cry alone in the house, when I come home on weekends, I laugh with my father, and I still cry alone in the dark night. I like to look up at the stars and finally understand that my life is very clear, home and school is everything to me.
For more than half a year, I soaked myself in tears and tried to clean the wounds with tears, but the tears were only analgesics, and the grief was as strong as a polar glacier, and I had no choice but to endure! In the midst of helplessness, I finally realized that I had no branches to live in, no way back!
So I chose to be at a loss, lonely in the wilderness, and buried my head in work. Occasionally, when I had spare time, I "hid in the small building into a unity" and pressed myself into the classical recitation, at first I just wanted to anesthetize myself with my voice, stay away from the bustle, temporarily quiet, and warm myself with words. Unconsciously, I felt as if I had touched the lonely soul of the sages, felt the heaviness of "the ancient sages were lonely", felt the stubbornness of the "poets of sorrow and indignation", and imagined the helplessness of "alone but drooling"...
I didn't have the leisure to ask for flowers with tears in my eyes, I was even more powerless to read the heavens and the earth, and I didn't want the strings to be broken, and I learned to talk to myself and gibberish at the words. Although his ability to control the written word is very poor, he is willing to let the text go as he pleases, without sensationalism or pretense. When I began to use words to illuminate reality for myself, I finally had time to carefully recall the bits and pieces of life, and all the love and hatred began to become clearer and clearer in one night after another: some dark incense penetrated the emptiness of the years and still lingered in the heart field; some coldness could not become soft after being nourished by warmth; those happy expectations had long been dusted into eternal memories; those who had been disappointed in love were always the home of their souls...
While picking up the years in his leisure time, such as the sad Xianglin sister-in-law, like the chattering eight-pound old woman, the gaze is getting lower and lower, the heart is getting narrower and narrower, the world is getting smaller and smaller, crushing herself in the dust, there is often pain in the low brow, there is always sadness in understatement, and I have learned to heal my loneliness with dreams that cannot be realized in my life in the dark night. But the heart and life are closer, the pen and the soul are freer, and love and hate are clearer.
Once people can't dream, they may live more awake. Life is a chicken feather, middle age is helpless, life left for middle age is to cry when you must laugh, is helpless to run in place, is to try your best in place every day, is ashamed to mention the Gou and ... " The broken hat covers the face of the downtown area" is the middle-aged state of my survival. But I will still remember the small luck when the wind is light, I will write down the small warmth when the sun is broken, and I will look back at the small excitement when the passion is embellished...
I firmly believe that I still love the world deeply, and I love the people who love me deeply, just like my parents, Singing love with persistence. Since I have no branches to rely on, the distance is my dependence, and since I have no way to retreat, love is my homecoming!
(October 21, 2021)
Qiu Shui, real name Wei Fei, is a teacher at Huaiya Middle School. Taste the classics, absorb the wisdom of the sages; write silently, dialogue with the soul; read with the heart to convey the good.
Source: Aesthetic Tasting
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