Deep in the warm southwest city, I often think of my childhood, that long and deep memory, unforgettable beauty, when the night comes, I will quietly recall before going to bed.
In early winter, in the northern countryside in the early morning, a little light was slightly revealed in the east. I don't know whose rooster in the village started to crow first, and the roosters of other families also began to crow, and the sound came and went, waking up the old village that had been sleeping all night. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, a hazy mist appeared in front of me as it creaked, fluttering in the wind among the trees, on the dirt road, and on the walls. In the kitchen, the adults started to make breakfast, still egg noodle soup, spread cakes, stir-fried vegetables or pickles. The shadow of the sun began to faintly appear on the branches of the trees at the east end of the village, which was white at first, then yellow, and slowly turned golden. There is always a layer of mist blocking it, allowing the sun to shine softly in the yard. By the time we had eaten breakfast and put on our bags and were ready to go out, the mist began to lift, the outline of the village began to become clear, and the end of the path to school could be seen clearly. Illuminated by the golden sun, I set out on my way to school.
Do you remember the way to school when you were a kid?The big tree at the entrance of the village?Do you remember what was the most delicious thing to eat when you were a kid?