The golden autumn is cool, the whole world celebrates, and the osmanthus is fragrant.
On the National Day of 2023, when I returned to the old house again, tears had climbed out of my eyes, and the old jujube tree at the door was still luxuriant, but after the vicissitudes of the years, the jujube tree watched over the village, witnessed the coming and going of people, witnessed the growth of a generation, and watched the wanderer leave his hometown countless times. The autumn wind is bleak and the leaves are yellow, the naughty boy who steals the jujube has two sideburns, and he stays alone in front of the door to guard the fruit, and no one tastes the red dates everywhere.
When I saw the old house I lived in 30 years ago, my face was full of melancholy. The furnishings in the house are still the same as in my mind, but the cobwebs crawl all over the beams. The old table was also standing in the empty space in the corner, dust fell all over the bed I slept on, and the memories of my youth were plastered all over the earthen wall, but there was no glory of the past. I remember reading hard under a kerosene lamp;I still remember my father's raised slap;I still remember the hustle and bustle on the way to school when I was a childI still remember the noodle soup my mother made.
Walking on the country road, things are not people and buildings are empty, caressing the broken earthen walls, feeling the vicissitudes of the years. The original lively scene is gone;I don't see Xiaofang, my childhood sweetheart, who married far away;There is no longer a bowl to eat and nag together;I don't see the amiable neighbor's aunt.
Sitting on the familiar locust tree behind the house, looking at the place where I used to play in my childhood, looking for the taste of memory. What used to be the liveliest place is now desolate everywhere. When I close my eyes and think about it, when I was a kid, I really wanted to sit all day in this place, and I wanted to fill my inner melancholy.
On the road in the village, there are many unfamiliar faces, and I don't know when they got married. Children who run and play don't know where they live. I greeted the old people walking by, but they looked at me strangely and asked me who I wasWhy didn't I have an impression, but when I said the name of my family, the old man suddenly became enlightened.
I walked through the alleys where too many pasts had been sealed, looking for my childhood thoughts, only to find that it had already changed. The dog's tail grass on the side of the road is still growing wildly, but the friends I play with are already in a foreign country, and they also once had dreams, but they were finally bent by reality.
Once in the pond of the village, lotus flowers were fragrant. When I was a teenager, my friends used to take a bath, catch fish, catch shrimp, and do laundry. Today, the pond has been filled with all kinds of waste, and there is a garbage bin next to it.
The autumn wind blew on his face, causing a trace of melancholy. The left-behind elderly people were looking at the door, and some were still busy farming. Time has stumbled, is this where we are now?
The barren grass has flooded the people who come and go, and the old houses are still strong in the sunset. An indescribable thought made me faintly sad, obviously I was the son of this village, but you asked me where I came from.
The hometown is the fragrance of acacia flowers in spring, the sound of frogs and cicadas in summer, the yellow rice flowers in autumn, and the snow and frost in winter. Hometown is a place where young people want to desperately escape, and it is a place where old people want to go back but can't go back. The hometown is the sound of poplar leaves and the strong fragrance of peach blossoms.
Some say it's poetry and distance, others say it's backwood.
But in my eyes, this is the antidote to a tired life, a place where people feel at ease.
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