I don't have a decent pole at home, so I use a log the thickness of my forearm instead. This wood has become our pillar. The big end of the log has a natural scar. When my sister and I were carrying water, I held a bucket in my hand to prevent them from crossing this scar so that my sister could leave some light. Over time, my shoulders got used to this kind of diary. Once, I used a normal pole to carry water, and found that my shoulder hurt unbearable and I had to stop and walk. It's all this wood.
( 1)
When I was in junior high school, I often took turns cleaning the classroom with my classmates. My middle school is located on a high loess slope with a main canal in the middle. In the season of agricultural irrigation, we can take water from this canal and transport it to the classroom, which is more labor-saving. Many times, there is no water in the canal, so we have to carry water in the river bend, which is very time-consuming and laborious. My mother saw that I was struggling to carry water, and often gave up farm work to help me pick a bucket of water from the river bend and send it to the classroom.
At that time, my mother was in her thirties, with a long braid hanging down her waist, and she undertook almost all the farm work by herself. Because my father is a public teacher, he first taught in other places and later transferred to his own village to teach. Because of his busy work, he can only help his mother with some farm work. Our family is poor and there is no clock at home, so we can't determine the time accurately. In winter, my mother often wakes me up before dawn, gives me a breakfast bag and urges me to go to school. After a long walk, it's still not dawn. My mother began to worry about whether I went out too early and whether there would be danger on the road. Once I caught a cold and went to the doctor's house on the loess hillside for an injection at night. Because of repeated injections, my ass was swollen and painful, and it was difficult to walk. My mother carried me home. I almost fell when I passed a wooden bridge. Fortunately, my mother stabilized her feet in time and narrowly crossed the bridge.
I am afraid of going to school, not because I am afraid of studying, but because I am afraid of dogs biting people on the road. There are two roads leading to school in my home. There are a group of dogs at the middle corner of the road. They often frolic on the road. There are some dogs near the school. Every time I pass by, I'm very quiet and careful, for fear that evil dogs will rush up and block the way. There are fewer dogs on the road below. They look friendly and don't bark often. But there is a road near the orchard. When it's dark, the orchard is dark, staring at you with strange eyes makes people shudder.
In the countryside, every household lives very close, the sound of chickens and dogs is endless, and pots and pans jingle. Before I was 10 years old, my family lived in a quadrangle, where there were several families, all cousins of the house. Everyone raised a lot of chickens, and the chickens from all families ate together, paced in the yard and basked on the roof. It was dark, and all the chickens went home to rest. The next day, at dawn, suddenly a rooster crowed loudly, and then chickens crowed one after another. This rooster is like the king of rooster country. Every day he takes the lead in crowing at a fixed time, and the other chickens are respectful to him. However, it is very proud. When looking at people, its eyes are full of disdain and hostility. My sisters and I are very afraid of it, because it will suddenly rush in front of us, flapping its wings, rush sideways and peck us fiercely.
Mother saw this scene and was very worried that the rooster would peck us, especially afraid that it would peck our eyes. So I went to beg the owner of this group of chickens and advised her to kill them to avoid accidents. This owner is our nurse. She doesn't want to kill this chicken. Mother begged again and again, and finally it made sense. The rooster became a dish on the table.
The next day, the chicken stopped crowing, as if immersed in sadness. We are so happy that we can play around carefree again. My mother frowned. But after a few days' rest, the chicken crowed again. It turned out that a cockerel started to take the lead. This rooster can not only crow, but also peck our children, even worse than that rooster.
Mother's brow wrinkled again. She begged for milk again and again. Donnell shook his head like a rattle and said slowly, this chicken is still young, and it will have to wait a lot before it can be slaughtered. Mom was worried, but there was nothing she could do. The rooster pecked me again. My mother was very angry when she saw it. She grabbed a broom and bluffed at the chicken. The chicken ran away in a hurry. Don't be unhappy. It depends on the owner to beat a dog, not to mention a chicken.
One day, my mother was busy in the house when she suddenly heard the screams of children coming from the yard. She was so frightened that she thought I had been pecked and rushed out of the door. There are no children in the yard, and the sound is coming from the backyard. She rushed to the backyard again and saw my little uncle standing on the porch. The rooster is standing on his head and pecking at his forehead. Probably because of fear, Uncle Tang Xiao didn't dare to beat the rooster with his hands, just kept shaking his head. Don's milk was also on the porch. She was so scared that she rushed forward, grabbed the cock by the neck and pulled it down. Fortunately, the rooster didn't peck Uncle Xiao's eyes. Donnell killed the rooster that day. As soon as a rooster starts pecking, Donnell will kill it immediately. We children are very happy.
(2)
Mother inherited grandpa's good physical fitness and was a natural athlete. In primary school and junior high school, she excelled in discus and javelin in track and field events. Once a provincial sports school visited, I took a fancy to my mother and wanted to enroll her directly in the sports school for professional training. Mother didn't know what to do, so the teachers went to her mother's house and asked her grandparents' opinions. Hearing this, grandma immediately disagreed. She is worried that life in sports school is too hard and her mother will suffer a lot. She hopes that her mother, like an ordinary girl, will finish high school in the future, marry a nearby rural family and live a familiar life. The teachers really liked their mother, tried to persuade her grandmother for several days, and finally gave up because of her fierce opposition.
Mom's sports dream continues. She joined the school basketball team, served as the captain of the women's team, and often ran on the training ground and the court. Mother's physical quality is very good, and the fierce competition fills her with happiness and strength. The school basketball team gradually made achievements and became famous in the schools in the county. Later, it represented the county for many times to participate in inter-county leagues.
When my mother was a sophomore, the Great Revolution finally began. The teachers in the school were beaten by the rebels one by one, and people were trapped in panic and chaos. Mom's math performance has always been among the best, and her favorite math teacher has been criticized in turn. At the last moment of the teacher's life, he gave his mother a black-and-white photo with his autograph and message on it. Soon, the respectable teacher committed suicide.
The wheel of the revolutionary movement moved forward vigorously, changing the fate of a generation. Mom graduated from high school, and there was no university to apply for, so she had to go home and farm. Grandma saw that her mother was not young, so she married poor dad. With a longing for love, my mother left her parents who lived together day and night and came to her father's village to start a new life.
The great changes in the environment made my mother at a loss. Mother began to adapt to complex family relations and devoted herself to rural production and life. My mother served her parents-in-law, three underage brothers-in-law, and raised three children one by one. Mother and the members work together, sowing in spring, cutting wheat in summer, harvesting fruit in autumn, and picking branches and sweeping leaves in winter.
There is a drying wheat field in the village, next to the kindergarten and the elderly club. During the winter slack season, the old people crouch in the sunny corner, shrinking their heads and dragging their long noses, or chatting or playing chess. The children are running around on the grass. On one occasion, the village coachman took a steel sand gun and ambushed behind the haystack. Groups of sparrows are looking for food on the grass. Suddenly, there was a loud noise and dozens of sparrows were shot. Adults set up a big pot, boil water and cook sparrows. The children gathered around the pot and greedily stared at the fresh sparrow meat, but they couldn't get rid of it.
I don't know whose child brought the ball. The children got the treasure and played on the wheat drying field. Mother suddenly put down her work, grabbed the ball and set out to play basketball in the yard. Members of the comrades stare big eyes, surprised to see my mother running with the ball on the wheat drying field. In autumn, melons and fruits are fragrant, members are laughing and busy in the harvest season. Big and red apples, golden winter pears and green fragrant pears were transported from the orchard to the warehouse one by one. My mother and her companions were pulling the car together, and when they passed by our house, I happened to be standing at the door, eagerly looking at the fruit in the car. Mother picked up two or three apples and put them in my arms. I ran into the house quickly and threw the fruit out of the window. In the evening, we have apples to eat at home.
Our home is in the southwest corner of the quadrangle. The house faces east from east to west, and next to it is a simple kitchen. Usually there is little sunshine, even the light in the room is dim. We three sisters often sit on the threshold with iron porcelain bowls. We often eat corn flour. When there is no food, we can pour some vinegar and put red pepper sauce on it, or we can have a good meal. Mother cooked corn dough with a fire. Because the fire is very big, a thin layer of crispy rice sticks to the bottom of the pot, which is a delicious dessert. Mother scooped up the rice crust and gave it to us. The crispy rice crust is lush and crispy, and the saliva is attractive. I'm still sitting on the threshold, chewing a little rice crust. Hens will gather around their feet and pick up bits and pieces on the ground to eat. A hen, impatient, suddenly flew into my bowl, grabbed the bowl with her claws and grabbed the rice crust from the bowl to eat.
When mom and dad go out to work, they lock the door. When my sister and I come back from school or kindergarten, we are often locked out of the house, so we play in the yard and play games with our friends. One afternoon, the yard was sunny and warm. I was playing with a group of friends and heard my hen barking. When I looked back, it was standing up from the haystack, wagging its tail and proudly walking away. So it laid eggs. I ran over, picked up the hot egg, gently wiped it on my cheek, and then carefully put it in my pocket for fear of breaking it.
I don't know when, when my mother came back from work and asked me to eat, she found that my pocket was full of egg yolk, egg white and broken eggshells. So my mother scolded me. My mother washed my clothes in the house and let me stand in the yard. Standing under the eaves of the East Room, I sighed, watching the afterglow of the sunset disappear bit by bit, thinking about how to get back to my warm home. Just thinking, my father's friend came, and my parents came out to meet him with smiles on their faces. I took the opportunity to sneak into the room and climb into bed.
(3)
I was sick again, didn't go to school and lay on the kang at home. The doctor came, had an injection and prescribed Chinese medicine. My mother comes over from time to time to be caring and attentive, reaches out and touches my forehead, whispering in my ear. I fell asleep in a daze on the kang, and was occasionally woken up by my mother, and stood up to get a bowl of soup. Mom was cooking in the kitchen, and the tinkling sound reached my room. I felt a little hungry. After a while, my mother brought noodles with fresh vegetables and fine diced meat. It turned out that my mother cooked me a single pot of rice, which was very delicious and only for me. I lost my appetite, took two bites and put down my chopsticks. My mother accompanied me and advised me to eat more over and over again. My sisters rushed to see me after school and greedily stared at the noodles in my bowl. I can see that they envy me for being able to eat such delicious food when I am sick. I have some appetite, so I can continue to eat.
In spring, my mother and members go to the fields to sow seeds. Mother walked around with an ammonia bucket on her back and a seeder. The ammonia bucket is heavily pressed on the mother's shoulder, and the lower end of the bucket keeps rubbing against the mother's waist with the pace. After a while, my mother felt a burning pain in her waist, and suspected that the ammonia bucket was leaking, so she went to the captain to check it. The captain came over casually, looked at it twice, patted an ammonia bucket and said, wood problem, work. Mother gritted her teeth, held back the pain and persisted in completing the task of the day.
Finally got off work. Mom came home, took off her clothes and checked, only to find that the left side of the waist was worn out, and ammonia water penetrated into the flesh, corroding the wound, swelling and pain. She hurried to the health clinic for treatment. The doctor treated the wound and wrote a note to rest for three months. Mother is ill, but she still has to take care of the family. She still cooks by the fire every day, washes clothes on the small bench and sews on the kang.
Rural household production quotas have begun. My mother took all the pressure by herself and ran around in the sand of orchards, mountains and rivers all day. I bought a lot of new farm tools at home, from plowing, sowing, spraying pesticides and climbing fruit branches, from the hope of spring to the harvest of autumn, every inch of time has my mother's footprints. Mother's life, no enjoyment, no relaxation, no entertainment, only work, only hard work, only persistence. It is this persistent and fearless spirit that has influenced our three sisters, made us understand the profound connotation of life and formed the habit of perseverance.
(4)
Time flies, the three sisters have grown up, but the mother's eyes are dim, her hair is gray and her steps are slow. Over the years, I have been living in Germany, and the number of meetings with my mother is extremely rare. Every time we meet, my mother always approaches my face and looks at me carefully. Every time we meet, my mother always sighs that we have just met and are leaving again.
Dear mom, you just have to watch carefully and enjoy it. Remember your son's eyes, nose and mouth, so that when you miss your son, you can remember his face.
Dear mom, you just have to watch carefully and enjoy it. Seeing your son's heart full of love can be a comfort when you miss him.
Dear mother, you can see the sigh and sadness in your son's heart as long as you look carefully and enjoy yourself. Fortunately, when you miss your son, you can know that his son misses you, too.
Dear mother, blame your son. Parents are away, but children should be filial. You are miserable without a son. Don't ask why you want to leave, why you are always far apart. Don't lament the ruthlessness of time and the hardships of life. Because life is a trip, and the destination of the trip is the home of heaven, where we will never be apart.
Dear mother, thank you, my child. You fed me with sweet milk and nurtured me with earnest teaching. You teach me to sing in spring, to play in summer, to be happy in autumn and to be strong in winter. Just when the child was full-fledged, your tender hands released my hope, and your loving eyes watched me fly away.
Dear mother, your love makes my eyes full of tears and my heart surge. Your pain torments me and keeps me awake at night. Your breath and breath are closely connected with me. Because you put a yellow mark on my face and planted the seeds of China in my blood. No, not only me, but also my son and daughter. We are all sons and daughters of China from generation to generation.
(end of the full text? Revised on May 9, 20021year? Copyright by the author)