High Wall Tibetan Blue

The day before yesterday, my cousin called me to tell me that my old house had collapsed and sent me some pictures of the scene via WeChat. Thousands of miles away, I really want to go back to my hometown and see the old house. The old house is the root of the wanderer, and the old house is the soul of the wanderer. The old house in my hometown carries too many childhood memories for me.

My hometown is in the countryside of southern Hunan. It is surrounded by mountains and rivers, has beautiful scenery and simple folk customs. It is a typical Jiangnan water town. I heard from my parents that they "separated" from my grandma's house after they got married, and my father drew lots to get this half of the old house. The reason why it is "half" is because the other half belongs to "grandpa"'s family. Because there was only one bedroom, one living room and half a hall, the conditions were limited, so I was sent to my grandmother's house to be raised when I was three years old. It was not until I was almost seven years old that I was picked up by my parents when I was about to go to elementary school. When I was about ten years old, a new brick house was built, so my memory of the old house is only about three years.

In fact, living in the old house is quite comfortable, warm in winter and cool in summer. There is a stone road outside the door. In summer, stepping barefoot on the stone feels cool and very comfortable. There is a threshold more than half a meter high when entering. I think when I was a child, I should have often wanted to climb out of this "high" threshold to see the outside world. There is a dog hole on the right side of the gate, and my black dog often comes in and out through this hole. The floor of the hall and living room is made of rammed earth, and the bedroom is covered with a layer of wooden boards. There is a wooden ladder rising vertically from the bedroom door, which is the only way to the second floor. Climbing up the wooden ladder to the second-floor attic, my mother placed some light things, such as empty jars, tobacco sticks, etc. Now that I think about it, the only feeling I felt on the second floor was that I was a little scared, because the wooden stairs were shaky, and walking on the second floor also felt shaky, and it seemed that I would fall if I wasn't careful. But the more scared I got, the more I wanted to go up. There is a window on the east and west sides, and the light is pretty good.

I remember one day when I came home from herding cattle, the cow got lost because of my playfulness. I told my mother about this in fear. My anxious mother grabbed a feather duster and wanted to teach me a lesson. I was so scared that I ran away. Fortunately, the old cow was quite sensible, and he came back later. The old house is also a good place for me, my sister and other friends to play together. When we have nothing to do, we play various games in the hall and outside the door.

I remember that later my family moved to a new house, and the old house became a production warehouse, where dry-cured tobacco, rice, granaries, lotus root coal, etc. were all stored. When summer vacation comes, my mother will call my sister and I to go there to make live and dry cigarettes. It is very hot outside, but we feel very cool while working in the old house. After selecting the dried cigarettes, they were bundled into handfuls so that my father could drag them to the tobacco station to sell them. No matter what she does, I admire my mother. She must finish the planned work before going to eat. Perhaps under this subtle influence, my sister and I were able to do things down-to-earth when we grew up.

After I started working, I had less and less time to come back to visit my old house. My sister also went to Guangdong to work and start a family. Later, when I got married and was transferred to the city, my parents also came to live with me. The old house has become increasingly neglected and neglected to be managed and repaired. A few years ago, when I returned to my hometown during Qingming Festival and Chinese New Year, I would visit my old house from time to time. In recent years, the old house has become dilapidated and we dare not go in to see it.

When I told my parents that the old house had fallen down, my mother said, if it falls down, just let it fall down. There is nothing in it, just some wood. If relatives want it, let them pick it up. . I posted the photo of the collapsed old house in the family group, and my baby daughter posted three "angry" emoticons in a row. My sister asked her why she was angry, and the baby said it was because the old house collapsed. My sister said it was okay, because it was in disrepair and it would be okay if it fell down. I think my sister may be missing my old house and the good times of her childhood just like me. In the hearts of us brothers and sisters, there is an old house that will never fall down.