On the twenty-eighth day of the lunar month, the sun was bright and dazzling, I was ready to go back to my hometown in the morning, there was no traffic jam, no trek, no wind, frost and snow, this luck did not come from the fact that I did not marry far away, working in the provincial capital, 40 minutes away from my hometown.
The provincial road back to the village is very crowded, the cars move forward one after another, neatly and orderly, the movement is slow, the trees on both sides of the road are straight and naked there, like a woman standing at the entrance of the village watching the liveliness of others, the festive atmosphere is permeated in the air, draped on the branches, looking at the past in rows, they are implicitly swaggering in the sun.
The wheat seedlings in the field poked out of the ground, looking over, like an old man with sparse hair, braving the kind heat, I seemed to see myself when I was a child carrying a bamboo basket digging in the ground. Now there are no shepherd's cabbage in the fields, and there are no children digging shepherd's cabbage.
In the past few days, I have been like a busy spinning top every day, which is the longest time I have spent at my mother's house in more than ten years.
We have to steam steamed buns, fried oil cakes, steamed sweet rice, and steamed to make it together for the Spring Festival here. I'm busy alone, grandma is eighty-seven years old, burn a fire, peel a green onion is okay, dad basically can't help much, we have a spring year here, women are busy, men are only responsible for enjoying, it is a strong man who has worked hard for a year, but today's women are usually not idle, and the New Year is the hardest.
Father said that our buns are whiter than Uncle Niu's house, and there was a little pride in his words, I went to Uncle Niu's house in Chinese New Year's Eve, and I heard him say that my father grinded 60 pounds of flour for 100 pounds of wheat, and the wheat bran was converted into money at a low price to give people the bottom cost, he said that it is becoming more and more difficult for rural people, and those who do business defraud rural people, forcing rural people to consume their hard-earned money, even those who grind noodles are bullying the market, and the natural gas in the city enters the countryside, and farmers are not allowed to build stoves and burn firewood. A few years ago, the village was connected to tap water, and the quality of the water made the villagers complain, and it was not as good as the well water. At present, the modern civilized life that I have been looking forward to since childhood has entered the village with a strong sense of exploitation by the capitalists. Expectation and joy were completely teased by the progress of the times and the treacherous evolution of human nature, I returned to the village, looking at these, always stunned, feeling that hard days are still hard days, good days are still good days, and the bright coat can't whitewash the barrenness in most people's bones. The times are progressing, good ideas are not inherited, bad trends blow sores everywhere, ideas are not progressive, doomed to be ignorant to accept ignorance, inherit and promote ignorance.
The people's hearts are not ancient, the world is declining, and most of the injured are simple farmers.