When people reach middle age, they are afraid to return to their hometown during the New Year.
When I was a child, every time I came to the New Year, I always happily counted the days with my fingers. Every day of the month is a prelude and overture to the Spring Festival, and until Chinese New Year's Eve, the night is full of excitement and sleeplessness.
I grew up and traveled all over the world for my life, but when I was a child, my home took root in my heart, sprouted, and grew into a tree.
The low wall and low door, the green bricks and tiles, the roosters and dogs barking, and the people and horses barking are the vivid appearance of the home.
I always think that the high-rise buildings outside are tired bodies and drifting duckweeds, and in the depths of my heart, my hometown is the root of life and the place where my soul lives.
The New Year is a tree without annual rings in my hometown, guarded by the shadow spirits of our ancestors, even if you travel thousands of miles away, the vicissitudes of thousands of years have returned to you as a teenager here.
At the end of the year, let go of the bitterness and fatigue of the year, let go of the fame and glitz of the world, and go home for the New Year if you have money or not.
Going home for the New Year is a year's expectation, looking forward to letting the wandering thoughts land, and letting the joy of reunion after a long absence bloom on the land of my hometown.
When he left home and returned to his eldest child, his hometown accent has not changed, and his sideburns have declined. Generations have grown old, stubble people have grown up, groups of people have left their hometowns, and strangers greet them politely with familiar native accents, and stay away as if they were guests from afar.
The joy of childhood is still running in my heart, forgetting that the top of my head is full of frost and snow.
It is said that parents still have a place to come from in life, and parents have only a way back in life. Without the protection of his parents, his hometown is really like a palm with five fingers spread out, and he can no longer hold a tight home.
Trying to search for the joy of the years in the depths of memory, I suddenly found that the people of each family, the door of one courtyard and one wall, gentle and clear, the heart lamp when I was a child, could not light up the affectionate blank at the end of the year.
When people reach middle age, they are afraid of the New YearI am afraid that people have returned to their hometowns, but their hearts are still wandering on the road......