To those lost times

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Márquez has a classic quote in "One Hundred Years of Solitude": Parents are a curtain between us and death.

Mother walked on the Chongyang Festival. My mother is very good at choosing a day, as her usual personality style is consistent. It must be high-profile and clear, which cannot be ignored. Even a day like death will be chosen to make you unforgettable and unforgettable.

Last year's Chongyang Festival, at four o'clock in the morning, ICU called to inform her mother that it was not ok. I couldn't even wait for a reaction, the phone rang and my mother left. Hurriedly picked up the things that were prepared to go to the funeral home in advance and rushed to the hospital. Before leaving the house, I seemed to hear my mother calling my name and shouting loudly: I am gone!

Fast forward a year, and a year has passed since my mother died. This year's Chongyang Festival woke up early, and the sky was as dark as the Early Morning of Chongyang when my mother left last year. Without the panic of that early morning last year, I miss my mother more.

Time flies. Quiet and silent. If you don't see the child grow up, or how long the old man has passed away, you don't realize that time is rushing. Those times were quietly silent, and on a certain day, they calmed down, looked back, and sighed.

In order to deal with the chongyang festival's inability to place the mother's thoughts. Cycled to the old town of the small town.

The town is not large, with a population of tens of thousands. If you have nothing to do, you can walk as a car. It doesn't take half a day to visit the town. Such a projectile land, but because of moving to the junction of the new and old towns, and going to work in the new city, it is rare to go to the old city.

Be amazed by the new hospitals and places to play in the old town. Just a few years without going this way, there is such a change.

The old town is still the old town, the old houses, the paths, are still the same as before. In this context, quickly recall the time that lived in between. Silky network can't help but play back in the brain, it is a mixture of five tastes.

The days are ordinary days, ordinary daily life. Those ordinary days, unexpectedly, will become precious memories for the future. On the way to and from school, the relationship with classmates, the warmth of the family at the dinner table at home, the sound and laughter of the parents at that time and other scenes are inadvertently drilled into the mind and displayed in front of the eyes.

The walk is full of memories of life. The small town is not big, it is rare to come here, it is like a trip back to the hometown.

I can't remember the specific things, but the fireworks that are superimposed on the daily life, and the fear of not being able to go back.

The carefree student time around his parents that can't go back, the original time that can't go back is just a normal day. Parents are a curtain between us and death, so it was naïve at that time to think that such a day could last forever.

The town is not big, stop and go, into the area of daily life. Life goes on.

Fortunately, in all the memories, most of them are the love and warmth of their parents. Now there is no curtain between us and death. You can look straight to the end of life, which is the truth of life.

Roman Roland said that the real hero is to recognize the truth of life and still love life.

To those lost times, fortunately, the love and warmth left in those times bring strength.

Live every day of the present, because all the ordinary days of the present will be precious memories in the future.

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