This year, for the first time, the Southern Literature Festival joined hands with the "Nandu Non-Fiction Writing Growth Platform" to hold essay solicitation activities for all high school students in Shunde District. With the theme of "unforgettable", participants are asked to record and share their life feelings, thoughts and thoughts in the past one or two years in the form of non-fiction writing. The essay contest invites famous writers and editors to review. Nine students from Shunde No.1 Middle School, Beijiao Middle School, Guohua Memorial Middle School, Shunde Wende School, Shunde Desheng School and Beijiao Vocational and Technical School won the top three.
Unforgettable: a thousand words of a sewing machine
Second place ◎ Guohua Memorial Middle School Senior One (1) Class Xiao Qingzheng
Leaving home, not kissing, unforgettable, is the vague rise of the sewing machine of a thousand words and thousands of words. Next to it, it was Grandma, and she talked peacefully.
In the morning, the sky trembled with the hem of the daisy. Grandma got out of bed, washed herself in the mist of the courtyard, took my ripped pants, and sat down gently next to her "best friend"—the sewing machine was embedded with the shadow marks of the pane, and her lips were slightly open.
The tip of the needle was floating with shimmer, and the wisps of velvet that stretched under the thin line were also a little more exciting, and Grandma gently sipped the end of the thin line, facing the needle hole, and naturally drilled out, settled them, cut a black cloth, stacked the hole in the leg of the pants, and slowly slid under the needle. Then with the hand raised, the foot pedal, the sewing machine began to whisper.
A few sparrows also flew out of the nest, murmuring, flying high and flying low, telling their dreams: in the distance, there is a river, but the water has not flooded the wild grass and wildflowers on the shore... The pedals under Grandma's feet also rose and fell. What is Grandma talking about? I asked. Grandma didn't stop her soft movements, but just laughed: "I, dreaming that your father is back..."
Far away, there was my father, my grandmother's children.
The work done by his father prevented him from returning home many times throughout the year, and the dark blue overalls were frequently damaged. Every evening, the light dims, but the sewing machine seems to be noisy.
On the side, Xihui caged the anxious grandmother, her hand rubbing the rough fabric lines, trekking through the span of the needle, and the broken parts healed with the continuation of the footsteps. Sometimes, those few places were covered with blackened blood stains.
The hazy tears on the sewing machine table soaked the residual sun.
Hustle, but do not disturb that string of thoughts, but the voice of the heart is stronger, more intense, endless worries, endless lack of supplements, inexhaustible sorrows. I sat next to My Grandma, who sat at the sewing machine. She stared intently at one or two pieces of overalls that had been repaired, but she didn't know whether to smile or not: "Your father's clothes are sewn firmly!" It's just not coming back..."
During the Spring Festival of that year, the family received workwear from my father. Grandma held it up in a daze, and she couldn't even sigh. This day's sewing machine is also a little squeaky, maybe it is old...
Night, turned into silent black, a piece of fireworks in the distance, hovering, climbing upwards, climbing... Now I am also away from home, I am far away from my hometown, and my hometown is gently chanting in the brightest night sky of the moon, and the words of my grandmother and the sewing machine float in the sky, which are unforgettable around my pillow.
Comments: Using the sewing machine as the eye, it describes the deep feelings of father and grandmother, delicate and warm.
Editor: Mannie You Intern Situ Congying