Wen He Yongqiang.
At the end of the year, in the land of Sanqin, everyone with a vision of a better life is happily welcoming the New Year of the Dragon, smiling in the snowflakes, steaming stalls and vehicles returning from the north to the south are very lively, at this moment I face Nanshan and think of the school gate of the middle school 28 years ago, the bowl of steaming cabbage soup.
At that time, I was 17 years old, and my three siblings were all studying, and the overwhelmed family made a decision that many people can't do now, smashing pots and selling iron to let us go to school, and every week I would prepare three double-ring bags of steamed buns, three bottles of self-made chili sauce, and five yuan is a week's living expenses, which includes all expenses.
I often buy a book for the 5 yuan, and the rest is calculated for a week.
The first, third, and fifth had something to eat, and the second, fourth, and sixth ate the steamed bun that my mother had prepared for us, half corn and half white flour, and wrapped it in a coarse cloth and put it back on the stove.
The commissary at the door never dared to expect a dollar of bread, so the cabbage soup sold by the aunt who slipped in line became my lunch, and at that time it was basically the same morning, noon and evening were the taste of that place, and there was a layer of chili oil floating in the cabbage soup, two cents a tea jar, and the steamed bun with a crack was also a good meal.
I remember that one week I bought an extracurricular book, and there was not much left, so I didn't have the urge to buy cabbage soup at noon, but it couldn't be like this, one day at noon, I found a red brick on the outside of the tin bucket in the third house, and my aunt shouted: "Come, come, come." A dime and a dime." At the speed of a 100-meter sprint, I took out a dime, my aunt looked up at me, stirred it with a spoon quickly, and gave me a tea jar with preferential treatment, except that there was not much oil and water, the amount was still enough, and I was satisfied with the jar and walked back.
I'm about to graduate from junior high school in three years, and the dime cabbage soup I'm familiar with is still there. It rained one day, I waited at the school gate for most people to finish the cabbage soup, I walked over, handed the money and the jar, played the vegetables, I habitually looked at the school number, a drop of rain fell into the tea jar and splashed oil flowers fell into the eyes, I don't know if it was rain or tears.
Over the years, I have traveled to many cities and places, and even in the Bund and the Twin Towers and the Spring Bamboo Shoot Building, I have briefly remembered this bowl of cabbage soup. When I return to my hometown, I am used to stopping at the school gate to reminisce about the ...... taste
More than half of my life, no matter how difficult it is, I will reward myself with a bowl of cabbage soup made by myself after the small harvest, boil the water, put the washed cabbage into the pot, throw a handful of vermicelli, put some salt, hold a bowl, face the neon of the city, think about where the road tomorrow is, how to go, and instantly feel a lot of relief.