I always think that father's love is like a mountain, and mother's love is like water.
The father is an unclimbable mountain, and he has always relied on his children.
No matter how difficult the family is, as long as the father is there, he can hold up a blue sky.
When one day, I find that my father is too old to walk, or he has walked out of our world, and I will realize that my father has been living at the bottom, and he can only suffer without saying a word, silently carrying life.
A father's love is silent, but if it is lost, it also hurts to the skin.
My father was in such a hurry that he didn't even say hello.
I am a post-70s generation and have lived in the countryside from birth to junior high school graduation.
The house of my hometown, hanging halfway up the mountain, was first made of bark, and later of tiles.
The walls are made of adobe bricks, and the doors and windows are of wood.
It's such a house, and it took a lot of effort from my father.
In order to build a house, my father picked up soil and made bricks during his slack time, and then turned the bricks over and dried them thoroughly. Take a few dimes of cigarettes and go to a neighbor's house to ask for help.
A large group of neighbors, helping to build walls and dig foundations. There are also carpenters from the next village, who are in full swing to cooperate.
built a house and emptied the houseMy father went to work in the lime kiln in the village to earn money to educate his children. In the lime kiln, the temperature is very high and the dust is very large.
I often saw my father, dusty, snow-white;Only the eyes are still blinking, which makes people feel distressed. My father always laughed: "Study more and go to the city to find a job, so that you can make a profit." ”
When I went to work in the city, I spent less time with my parents. I remember that around 99 years, I didn't go home in Dongguan for two years.
During the Chinese New Year, there was ** at the factory gate, and I first called ** to the commissary in my hometown, and then agreed to let my father wait in the store in the afternoon. After some tossing, I finally got in touch with my father, and there was no too much shouting and warmth, only my father's relief: "It's nothing, everything is fine at home, everything is fine."
Later, with a mobile phone, I also went to the county to work, and it was much easier to go home. But there are fifty miles of road from the county seat to my home, and five or six high mountains are still a barrier separating me from my father.
I always wanted to let my parents live in the city, but my father said, "There is no need, there is land and food in the countryside." Everything is fine.
My father was not very good in the end, and on a sunny spring morning, he suddenly fell to the ground and never woke up.
Some people in the village said it was a cerebral hemorrhage. Even if an ambulance was called from the city, it was too late. Think about it, if you have a rush illness, but you have to wait for hours, what can you wait?
I hurried home, holding my father, who still had a warm heart, at a loss.
The eldest brother and sister were on the side, finding new clothes and helping my father change them.
The eldest sister said: "I bought this dress two years ago, and my father didn't wear it once." ”
suddenly remembered a passage that Lao She wrote to her mother: "She has never enjoyed a day of happiness in her life, and she still eats coarse grains when she dies." Alas, what else to say?Heartache, heartache!”Isn't that the case with my father?He ate coarse grains all his life, and before he died, he still thought about that piece of land, bought a few catties of grain seeds, and sharpened the sickle on the wall.
The hometown without a father makes people understand "three things".
After burying my father, we didn't worry about my mother being alone in my hometown, so we took my mother into the city.
The old house was locked, a big lock, and hung for ten years.
During the Qingming Festival, I also had to go back to my hometown to see, but I just opened the door, took out a hoe and sickle, removed the weeds from my father's grave, put on a few sticks of incense, and quickly returned to the city.
The walls of the old house began to leak, and I don't know how long it will last. The scythe on the wall, which my father sharpened ten years ago, is now rusty and almost scrapped.
The coat used by my father is still there, but the dust is very thick. No one touched it, for fear of the dust falling, and for fear of tears falling.
The stove was also deserted, everything was neatly arranged, but there were no fireworks. There are cobwebs on the beams, a large one.
There are only black pot bottoms and chimneys, which prove that there was once a lot of smoke and fire here.
The second uncle of the neighbor saw that there was movement in the old house, so he immediately rushed to take a look. The second uncle said, "Come to my house and have a meal." ”
But I won't bother the second uncle, he is also over eighty years old, how can he work hard for hospitality?
The rest of the neighbors seem to have moved into the city, and the old house is locked. There are also unlocked ones, and you can see the situation in the house at a glance, but they are all "four walls".
Occasionally I met one or two children, but I didn't recognize them. As He Zhizhang wrote"When children don't know each other, they smile and ask where they are from. ”
The old house without a father made me understand a lot.
First, I can't go back to my hometown.
I used to come back to my hometown during the New Year's holidays, but my parents were not in my hometown, so it was not interesting to go back.
Siblings can also get separated, and it's nice to be able to get together for a meal. Otherwise, we won't see each other for a whole year.
The old house is still there, and you want to return to your roots, but it's not realistic. After all, the environment of your hometown is no longer suitable for you now. Especially in remote mountainous areas.
Second, when we go back to our hometown, we are all guests.
You're not the owner of your hometown anymore, you're just a passerby.
In other words, we are passers-by of the world from the beginning. My hometown just accommodated us for a while.
The scenery of childhood is becoming more and more unfamiliar, and many pictures are no longer available.
Third, when the father passes away, he will slowly come out of the memory of his children.
When my father passed away, we cried every time we talked about it. It's too painful to miss it.
But time has passed, and when I talk about my father, I Xi used to it. Without our father, we still have to live well.
Memories can't fight against time, really. It's not unlove, it's impatience.
03 On the way back to the city from my hometown, I always wondered, will our next generation still have nostalgia?
You will know to carry rice and vegetables to school, light kerosene lamps to read, and watch black and white TV;Can you jump rubber bands, jump grids, catch loaches, and climb trees?
The rice was fragrant, but the father was gone.
I shouted into the rice paddies, "Dad." ”
There was an echo "Dad" on the other side of the mountain, but I couldn't hear my father's characteristic answer - "Eh, I'm here." ”
When I was a child, I heard my father's scolding, cried, turned around and laughed;When I grew up, I thought of my father's scolding, laughed, turned around and cried.
Author: Cloth Clothes Coarse Food.
Follow my words and go into your heart.
The picture in the article is ** on the Internet.