My mother brought a bag of flowers from her hometown in the countryside, which was more than twenty pounds, full of them, and it could be seen that the mother had picked them out one by one. It was said that it was brought to her great-grandchildren to eat. My eye circles were moist.
My mother is 80 years old and has a strong body. Ride a tricycle to five or six miles away to catch the market, but also over two hills, and the collection will not fall. Not only by car, but sometimes her father can catch her ride. As the saying goes, there are parents in the family, and they dare not call themselves old. In front of our parents, we will always be children who do not grow up.
My parents didn't want to come to the city to live, and they said that they were panicked. I can't buy fresh vegetables, and I also say that I beat this medicine and that medicine, eat my own vegetables, and feel solid in my heart. I know that the second old is in love with the soil and is difficult to move, so I don't force it much. But the only thing I was worried about was the two acres of land, because no matter how much persuasion they tried, they just didn't want to give it away and insisted on planting it themselves. And for good reason: now it doesn't take much effort to cultivate the land, it all uses machines, and it is nothing more than moving its mouth to find someone, and it is still not a problem to supply you with food. Every time I listened, I cried and laughed, you just gave us food, and there was no place to put it.
It wasn't until last year, at my behest, that my cousin was soft and hard, that she "snatched" the two acres of land. Without the field, the second elder began to tidy up their yard. The yard in my hometown is very big, empty, and it is a pity that it is idle, and I can't eat anything to grow some vegetables, my mother said. Children are not hindered, because we know that parents have such a tough body because of their lifelong hard work.
My mother liked to grow peanuts all her life, and peanuts are fallen peanuts, which are called long fruits in our hometown. I know my mother's complex with peanuts. In the past, life was not good, and my mother would always secretly plant a few peanuts in the side field, squeeze oil with peanuts, and stir-fry vegetables for us to eat. At that time, my bag would always have a handful of peanuts quietly put in by my mother, who said that I was picky eaters, thin and weak, and peanuts could nourish the stomach and be good for growing up.
Later, when the fields were divided into households, the mother could plant peanuts in a fair and honest manner. Every peanut harvest season, looking at the tired fruits, the mother will say with relish, a peanut rice and an oil egg.
My mother collected peanuts and never picked the fruit, she dried the peanuts and dried them in the yard. The peanut stalks face inward, the peanuts face outwards, circle by circle, layer by layer, towering like a pyramid. Every Spring Festival, "going back to my hometown to pick peanuts" has become another expectation of my children and grandchildren. We sat around the peanut stacks, the peanuts we picked were thrown in the dustpan, thrown in the basket, "ping-pong ping-pong", and the laughter of the children, no less than a Spring Festival Gala.
After picking my mother's peanuts and eating my mother's full table Chinese New Year's Eve meal, we carried my mother's heavy hopes in large bags and small bags and "left home", leaving behind my mother's distant gaze and the "next time" instructions, year after year.
I know that my mother did not grow peanuts this year, but my mother still brought her peanuts as scheduled, and I was a little confused in my heart. The mother said on the phone: Your cousin gave it to me, and I went to give it to the children to taste. My eye sockets were moist again. Where does the mother in the countryside know that in today's city, the supermarkets with seasonal vegetables and fruits are not to say, that is, the cries of "selling peanuts" in the streets and alleys have been rising and falling for a long time.
Poor parents in the world!