I want to watch over my hometown as I watch over my first love

Watch over your hometown

Author: Wu Changhu

I want to watch over my hometown as I watch over my first love.

When my mother called me, it occurred to me that I hadn't been home for the holidays in years. Although it is only a few tens of kilometers away from home, because I am busy with work, I always forget to go home for the holidays, which is a bit ashamed to say. "You haven't been home for the holidays in years, and this Mid-Autumn Festival, you must come back and spend time with us."

All the way, I finally embarked on the road home again.

This is a road built along a small river, and on both sides of the road, except for the uniform Qianbei residential houses, there is a bus shelter at intervals. These bus shelters, like people standing at the entrance of the village waiting for the wanderers to return home, they are so quiet and peaceful, which reminds me of the bus stops in the city.

The osmanthus trees planted on both sides of the road emit a fragrance from time to time, and this charming fragrance occasionally wafts in through the window of the car, refreshing the heart.

Looking out the window at the strange and familiar hometown, I had to sigh that the change in my hometown was really great. After more than two hours of driving, I finally came to the door of my home, and I suddenly found that in just a few months, our tile house had become the most popular house in Northwest Qianxi. The original loess dam has also become a cement yard, and the dirt road connecting each household has become a cement "string road", which looks very harmonious.

At this time, several children came from the door of the neighbor's house, some of them called me "uncle", some called me uncle. But I don't know any of them, let alone call them by name. This is a bit like He Zhizhang's famous "Book of Returning To the Countryside": "The young man left home and returned to the old man, and the township tone did not change the sideburns." Children don't know each other, laughing and asking where the guests come from? ”

Entering the house, the lights are bright, the music is melodious, and the corner where the TV is placed is still shining with colorful neon from time to time, and a scene of affluence is presented in front of my eyes. I heard my dad say he was renovating the house at home. He also told me that when the decoration is complete, I must come back and witness his craftsmanship with him.

Looking at this golden house, I recall the old tile house where we lived when we were children. The location of the old house is the place where we are sitting today. At that time, because of the bad conditions, we lived in a tile house that often leaked rain, especially in the rainy season, and many times, it rained heavily outside and light rain at home.

I was still immersed in the past, and My father had already eaten the meal. He said, "Son, hurry up and eat, and I'll take you for a walk in the square." I was a little surprised, thinking, there are squares in the countryside? So I asked my father, "We also have a square here?" At this time, my mother blamed my father, and she told me to eat slowly and then go after eating well. In order not to let my father wait, I shook my head vigorously and finished the meal that my mother had given me in one breath. I didn't have time to wipe the oil from my mouth, like a small child, and followed my father out.

"You're like an old child, the child hasn't eaten well, you shout and play, you!" One day you just know how to play. Mom said.

I walked behind my dad, ready to take out my phone and use it as a flashlight to illuminate the way. But as soon as you walk out the door, it's like daytime, and you can see the needle falling on the ground.

Dad said as he walked, "This is only installed this year, solar street lights." I heard that it is set up, and every day at 7:30 pm, the street lights are on, which is particularly magical. And, on every doorstep. I patiently listened to my father introduce me to me in a serious tone, and as I walked, I remembered my childhood again.

I distinctly remember that my hometown was only electrified in the winter of 2001. On the night of the electricity, none of our family slept, and the feeling of excitement was unknown to people who had not experienced it. Since the advent of electricity, people's lives have changed a lot. The previous stone mill was replaced by a "small steel mill", and since then, the era of people carrying horses and camels has gradually gone farther, and people who go from village to village to house to play movies have also lost their jobs.

After a while, we came to the square. By this time, there were already many people gathered in the square. They were shoulder to shoulder, foot to foot, very lively. Some are singing mountain songs, some are bragging, and some are learning to dance square dance in the city. Not like before, as soon as it gets dark, I swim by the river and go to sleep.

Looking at the happy appearance of the villagers and looking at everything that has changed in their hometown, unconsciously, I am immersed in this beautiful and harmonious picture again. Looking at the quiet artificial lake reflecting the stars in the sky, and the distant mountains covered by fog revealing hazy silhouettes, my heart suddenly became quiet and peaceful.

At this moment, a white line was drawn on the east side, and it was slowly extending into the distance, stretching out a scene of vitality and hope...

Dad's dual SIM recorder

Once I came home for the holidays and took care of the family's clutter with my dad. Suddenly, Dad handed me the guy he was born with twenty years ago--- tape recorder. I'm a little confused. He asked, "Daddy, where is this?"

Dad didn't seem to hear me, so I walked in to him, raised my voice and whispered, "Daddy, where is your tape recorder?" Dad looked up at me, a puzzled look in his eyes. He said casually, "Lose it, or give it to your little Li as a toy." I was a little confused, in the past, the tape recorder can be said to be the lifeblood of Dad. Wherever he goes? The tape recorder must have been with him. And today, why would Dad say that? It's puzzling.

Twenty years ago, in his hometown, the stonemason was a technical worker, and people from ten miles and eight townships would come to the house to ask dad to build a wall.

At that time, the salary was very low, and only one five cents a day was earned. Listen to my father, he has loved to read since he was a child, but because of his family's poverty. Not taking the road of reading was the biggest regret in Dad's life. Later he learned from someone else as a stonemason, because he was young and intelligent, and his father's skills were much better than those of others.

Dad worked hard for a long time and finally saved a sum of money. So he went to town to buy his favorite dual-SIM tape recorder.

Once, my father excitedly said to me, "At that time, I was most afraid that your mother would not agree." I bought the tape recorder back from the city, and surprisingly, your mom liked it and got your mom's praise. ”

I was only eight years old when my dad bought the tape recorder and barely remembered a few things. At that time, having a tape recorder was a great thing. Ever since Dad bought the tape recorder, our home has been much busier than usual.

In the evening, the villagers came to the house in an endless stream and asked their father to play the tape recorder for them. Many times, our family was overcrowded, and many times we couldn't even put our feet in. But Dad was principled and didn't start playing the tape recorder as soon as someone came. He waited until there were more people before he slowly lifted his treasure out of the bedroom, carefully placed it on a table of eight immortals, and then gently removed a brand-new towel covering it, and wiped the dust from the tape recorder with the towel. He didn't let the dust get on the tape recorder, like protecting a baby. Whenever this happens, everyone will make a sound of surprise. It means that this tape recorder is too beautiful and too foreign.

People watched intently as Dad turned on the tape recorder step by step, stretching their necks and anxiously waiting for the beautiful sound to come out of the tape recorder's speakers. It seems a little difficult to wait until the music is beautiful, and every now and then Dad will walk into the house without hurrying and take out a dusty canvas pocket with a lot of tapes in it. Dad was holding the bag in his left hand, and his right hand reached in and touched it unhurriedly, as if doing magic, and everyone looked at Dad intently, hoping that he would take out the tape quickly. Finally, the tape came out. But he slowly took the tape and threw it in the air a few times, indicating that he would shake off the dust, and then opened the tape door of the tape recorder, quietly put the tape in, and pressed the play button hard. He seemed to be telling everyone that the melodious singing was coming. And this long process takes about ten minutes.

With that in mind, I gently placed the tape recorder against the wall and continued to run the house with my father. After a few minutes, Dad turned over a canvas bag, and this bag was the same bag that Dad used to hold the tape. He wanted to hand me the bag, but didn't know why? He hesitated for a moment and then shrank back.

Seeing this scene, my heart suddenly trembled. Whispering to Dad, "What's wrong with you?" He stopped and sat down on a small stool. Staring tightly at the canvas bag, a few crystal clear things rolled down from the corners of his eyes. Sobbing quietly, he touched the old canvas bag and said, "I miss your mother."

Dad's sentence "I miss your mother." "It hurts me. Suddenly, my heart was like a knife. For so many years, I have been working outside the home. There was no time to go home and take care of Dad, which made Dad so lonely.

One day, My father told me that the canvas bag was made by my mother herself. Previously, it had been placed next to the tape recorder, just as Mom had always been by his side. After Mom left, Dad also put the tape recorder and canvas bag together.

In order to facilitate carrying, and in order to contact my father frequently, I bought my father an old man's machine. Although this mobile phone is not as foreign as the tape recorder, the sound is no less than that of the dual sim recorder. Since then, Dad has taken the old man's machine I bought as his own other half. Wherever he goes? They are all carried inseparably.

Whenever it was late afternoon, Dad would call me. He said that he especially liked this old man's machine, just like he liked the tape recorder.

And whenever this happens, I always think of what my father said.