Mother tells stories about recent events in the neighborhood and makes comments from time to time. From front street to back street, from east to west ...
I wonder when it will be windy outside. In the wind and rain, the buttonwood trees in the yard made a "cry" sound, and the fallen leaves rang "Hey!"
"Sleep, osmanthus! It is getting late. Also, Hutongkou ... Your uncle, I heard he was ill. I'm afraid this time ... tomorrow morning, why don't you buy some fruits and snacks to see him? " Mom said.
"all right! No wonder, when I came this morning, I didn't see my uncle sitting on the wheel of an alley. " I'll answer right away. Immediately, my mind churned up the past of my uncle in the alley.
Uncle Hutongkou is a distant relative. Our four families live in a north-south alley. My family lives in the southern end of Hutong Head and his family lives in the northern end of Hutongkou. I know, my uncle has had a hard time these years. There is a persimmon tree in front of his house with a wheel planted under it. His hair is gray, like a pile of hay. His face was black and yellow, and he sat on the steering wheel all day, holding his chin in one hand and his legs in the other. His face was expressionless and his eyes remained motionless for a long time, like a wooden head. Sometimes, there are two or three old people around, but his uncle seldom talks. Every time I go back to my parents' house and walk into the alley, I meet these old people and give them fruits and snacks. The old people are overjoyed, holding food and saying, "This child is so nice ... so nice ...". But his uncle was evasive and seemed afraid to look me in the eye. I forced the food into his hand, but he barely caught it, and his hands trembled. I am a little confused and puzzled, but my heart is never a taste.
Poor old uncle. However, the previous three uncles were not like this. He had a good time.
In my memory, I was a child of seven or eight years old. At that time, Uncle Hutongkou was almost 30 years old and was a militia company commander. He was wearing the most popular yellow coat at that time. He always walks with his head held high and stares at people sideways, which is fierce and scary. His uncle is nosy. When he sees something unpleasant, he starts to curse. At the trial, he tried his best, shouting slogans and kicking at the top of his lungs. Ranked third, was dubbed the "three thieves." When we children see him, we always stick to the wall, afraid to breathe or look into his eyes.
That autumn was an afternoon. In the yard of the production team, the dried cotton is as white and soft as the white clouds in the sky, and there are piles of golden corn and yellow orange soybeans. Mom is busy playing games, flipping games and promoting games with adults. The "three bandits" squatted on one side with a cigarette in their mouth, like supervisors. We have four or five children playing by the soybean pile. I am the only girl, the youngest. The leader is Han, the oldest, who is twelve or thirteen years old. Han suddenly came up with a good idea. He said, "Let's each grab a handful of soybeans, put them in our pockets and run away. Don't let those three robbers see us! Go home and make a fire. Stir fry with a spoon. It is delicious. Really satisfied! " Han Han asked me to go first. He said I was too young to be found easily. They really covered and surrounded me with their bodies, blocking the view of adults. At a young age, everything is done according to the instructions. Although my heart was pounding with fear, I swallowed my saliva at the thought of the smell of fried soybeans. I held the cat's waist and quietly approached the bean pile. I looked around and saw that no one was paying attention. I grabbed a handful of soybeans, put them in my pocket and ran home. No sooner had I run out than I heard a loud cry: "Stop!" " Almost at the same time, a big hand grabbed my collar and slapped me in the face. My eyes are black and my face hurts. Wipe your mouth with your hands. Your hands are covered with blood. It turned out that I was caught by the "three bandits". Panicked mother threw down her belongings and ran over, grabbed me in her arms and quarreled with the "three bandits": "Isn't it just a handful of beans? Child, you are not sensible, raise your hand and hit ... You see, the child is covered in blood, can you stand it? You are a bandit ... "
Perhaps angered by the word "bandit", the "three bandits" stared and screamed "you * * * ... you ..." and ran to me. The villagers came to persuade us, some pulling the "three bandits" and some pushing our mother to persuade us to go home.
In the yard, under the buttonwood tree, my mother hugged me tightly. I wonder what will happen. I'm afraid that if I get into trouble, my mother will hit me and look up at my mother's face. Suddenly, the tears of "click, click" fell on my face ... In the later days, I often saw the "three bandits" hitting my shadow. When I saw Three Bandits, my face ached faintly. I dreamed several times that the "three bandits" chased me, beat me and scolded me, and pushed my mother to the ground ... I hate the "three bandits" and I want revenge!
The opportunity has finally come. It was the spring of the following year. It was chilly and apricot blossoms were in full bloom. I broke an apricot flower and skipped home. Walking to the door of the "three bandits", I saw his door locked and suddenly had a good idea. I picked up the bricks by the roadside and threw them into the yard of the "three bandits". I immediately heard a "crash", which was very crisp, and it was either a basin or a jar. I threw two bricks and ran home. On this day, my heart is always pounding like a rabbit. Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I am afraid, sometimes I am angry, sometimes I am afraid of getting into trouble ... I dare not go out all day.
While eating, I got up the courage to say to my mother, "Mom, I got revenge today ..." As soon as I opened my mouth, my mother slapped chopsticks heavily on the dining table and blurted out, "Revenge? What revenge? " The tone is a little surprised and a little questioning. I knew I was in trouble, but I stumbled and told the truth in the face of my mother's staring eyes.
Mother pondered for a moment, sighed for a long time, and said, "Osmanthus fragrans, you child … why are you so ignorant?" ? He is your uncle. Wow ... "
Later, I went to school, worked, got married and finally lived and worked in the county. Once stumbling, gratitude and resentment, with the passage of time, have long since vanished. Only that handful of soybeans will never be erased from my memory. Every time I go back to my mother's house, my mother never forgets to remind me: "You have made great achievements in school. Don't put on airs When you enter the village, you should get off and say hello. When you meet your neighbors in an alley, no matter who they are, you should give them some gifts. Mother is not short of food and clothing, she is poor! " I know what my mother means. "Whoever it is" is Uncle Hutongkou.
At the beginning of the implementation of the production responsibility system in rural areas, his uncle always shouted, "Hum, after thirty years of socialism, he returned to before liberation overnight. What policy! " The yellow coat on him is old and worn, and the gray one doesn't slip. A hole is broken today, and two cotton wool will be exposed tomorrow, just like clothes worn by beggars. The prestige of the "three bandits" has long since disappeared. Occasionally, he turned around in the field of responsibility, but still lifted his head and refused to bend down to pull out a weed under his feet. The crops don't buy his account, but they show up to him after autumn, and the harvest is less than half that of others. His uncle's life began to decline from then on. ...
I got up late in the morning, and my mother had already cooked the meal. I discussed it with my mother and decided to give my uncle 200 yuan as a token of my heart. Mom said it's okay. His family is short of money and needs it. After a hasty meal, I walked to my uncle's house.
The autumn wind and cold rain last night dropped all the persimmon leaves in front of his uncle's house. Red leaves stick to the wet ground, like blood stains, and the sun is shining. Waiting for its owner naked, especially cold and lonely. On the black branches, there are three or two ripe yellow fruits hanging upside down, swinging back and forth in the blue sky and breeze.
His uncle's room was dark and cold, and the foul smell came to my nose. Three aunts are sitting on the edge of the kang. His uncle lay under the quilt, holding up the dirty and torn yellow coat on the quilt, motionless. Seeing me enter the room, my aunt turned on the light at once. I said, "Aunt, it's raining. I don't have time to buy anything, so I'll give this to you ... you buy some nutrients for your uncle. " Pass 200 yuan's money to Third Aunt. Third Aunt panicked and waved her hand, but she finally accepted it. She kept nodding and said incoherently, "Sweet-scented osmanthus is really good. Look ... it's really ... really embarrassing! "
Under the dim light, his uncle's face became thin and sallow, without a trace of blood. My eyes suddenly flashed past those who were lying quietly at the farewell ceremony, and I couldn't help shivering. His uncle seemed to know that I was coming, and his lips trembled a few times, as if he were saying something, and his voice was weak and vague. I don't know. My third aunt leaned over my uncle's mouth and listened carefully. Then she told me, "He is calling your name, osmanthus." Suddenly, his uncle opened his sunken eyes, his mouth was wide open and he was short of breath, as if he had exhausted all his strength, but his voice was still weak and vague. Third aunt had to listen more attentively and carefully. After listening for a while, she turned to the corner to uncover the lid of the short tank, dug a ladle of soybeans and handed it to me stumbling. I looked at my third aunt doubtfully, somewhat callous.
Third Aunt explained, "This soybean was planted by your third uncle and me at the edge of the cliff in spring. There are no fertilizers and pesticides, and there are no insects. Your uncle said you took it back and fried it for the children. Very fragrant. "
I suddenly understood something and was at a loss. I didn't answer, and I didn't answer. His uncle's mouth murmured again. The third aunt then explained, "osmanthus, your uncle asked you to accept it ... otherwise he would be very sorry!" " "
When I was holding the soybean, I looked at my uncle. He has closed his eyes, eyes moist, tears are clearly pouring out.
My heart suddenly sour, tears can't help spinning in her eyes. I leaned close to my uncle's ear and almost choked up and said, "Uncle, don't think too much, have a good rest!" " "
I returned to my mother with a spoon filled with soybeans and put it on the square table in the main room. A little surprise crossed my mother's face, and then she calmed down. She didn't ask much, and I didn't say anything. NianLia just looked at the gourd ladle golden soybeans, for a long time without words.
In the afternoon when I rushed back to the county seat, my mother called to tell me that my uncle had left. Mom also told me: that ladle of soybeans is great. Keep it as a bean seed. When you come back next spring, you and I will plant it in a sunny place in the garden together. ...