When I returned home, my trousers split because of the thread, and my mother said? Come on, I'll help you get a car. ?
I walked into the room with my mother. She lifted the red flannel on the small table, and a tailor's car suddenly appeared in front of me. This scene shocked me. Isn't this the tailor's car more than 3 years ago? Why are you still using it? And it looks like new? Mom? Is this the old tailor's car? Mom said:? The old one, of course. ? My mother skillfully sat in front of the sewing machine, turned her trouser legs over, and began to concentrate on sewing my cracked trousers. I looked at my mother's focused expression and couldn't help rubbing the beautiful wooden texture on the sewing machine. The picture suddenly overlapped with time and space and returned to my childhood.
At that time, this sewing machine was placed by the side door of the east wing of my hometown, and outside the door was a large jujube garden planted by my father. After my mother was busy with heavy work such as raising pigs, plowing, drying grain and washing clothes, she would sit in front of the sewing machine and watch us playing in the orchard.
The mother who is good at needlework actually doesn't have any material to make clothes. What she does is turn flour bags and fertilizer bags into simple clothes, or help us? Martial arts like an ox? Some children are good at mending torn shirts and trousers, and making clothes too big smaller and making clothes too small bigger.
Mother's work of making clothes is very important, so that although we live in poverty, we will not wear rags to school. When we don't take clothes, we will rush to write our homework on the sewing machine. That's because there are too few desks and too many children. If we can't grab the children of the sewing machine, we have to take a piece of wood to cushion our knees and sit on the threshold to write.
once, my brother and I grabbed the sewing machine and accidentally fell down, hitting the iron foot of the sewing machine, leaving a scar of more than 2 centimeters behind my ear, which is still clearly visible today.
I like to climb the jujube tree and look back at my mother sitting at the door of the wing, sewing clothes and eating crisp and sweet dates. At that time, my mother was in full bloom and had a delicate and determined beauty. Because my mother is strong in life, I often feel that although life is poor and simple, I am fearless in my heart.
If it's Sunday, we'll catch up early to pick dates, because the dates that are just ripe in the morning are the most fragrant and will be eaten up by our brothers later.
Mom never has a holiday, but she doesn't have to prepare a lunch on weekdays. She always sits in front of the sewing machine to sew clothes in the morning.
Sitting on a jujube tree, the sun just came out in the east, and the jujube garden became warm in the cold winter. Looking down the light of the sun, I just saw my mother's gentle side face, with very impressionist colors and lines like a cubist relief.
at this time, I will be deeply moved and want to dedicate the most delicious dates I just picked to my mother.
I jumped off the jujube tree and took the best jujube in my pocket to my mother. She would stop what she was doing, touch my head and say: Good boy. ? Then I opened the drawer on the right side of the sewing machine and put dates in it. I caught a glimpse that the drawer was full of dates. It turned out that my brother had already picked dates for his mother.
This makes me always pick dates on Sunday in winter, hoping to be the first to give them to my mother. Sometimes I feel that I can sit on the jujube tree and look at my mother's car clothes, and there will be endless happiness in my life. ? The car is ready, please wear it. ? My mother's voice brought me back from my memory, and my mother couldn't help laughing:
? Adults are planted, and they are stupid all day. ?
I looked at my mother's still gentle side face, but her hair turned gray. Just now, when I was absent, time rushed by for more than 3 years. Selected Works of Lin Qingxuan's Lyric Prose by Borrowing Scenes Part II: Wild Ginger Flower
Walking in Tonghua Market, a breath of fresh air suddenly flew out of the crowded crowd, which made people feel refreshed; Following the incense, I found an old man selling flowers selling wild ginger flowers he picked from the mountain, each with five flowers and a handful of ten dollars.
The old man said that his family lives on a hillside. Every day when he goes out to plant, he always passes through the hillside where wild ginger flowers are born. He never thinks that wild ginger flowers are precious. I just think this flower has a special fragrance. This autumn, he was tired of farming, so he took a nap by the village. After waking up, he found that he was full of fragrance, and the fresh air was particularly sweet. The old man thought that some people might like this fragrant flower that grows in the wild, so he cut a hundred wild ginger flowers and sold them in Tonghua Street, which was always sold out within an hour. The old man said: There are many people who love flowers in Taipei. Selling flowers is better than farming! ?
I bought ten handfuls of wild ginger flowers, and when I think of this lovely old man, I also remember that people who buy wild flowers may love flowers, and maybe there is a sweet memory buried in them. Just like listening to an old song, the song has gone away, but the sound remains. Every time I listen to an old song, I think of my friends who sang the same old song, and their nebulae are scattered, which makes those old songs more attractive.
The first time I met the loveliness of the wild ginger flower was many years ago. We were walking in Zuimengxi in Mucha, and a young girl told me: The flowers of the wild ginger flower are very much like the little white butterfly parked on the green tree, while the leaves of the wild ginger flower are like ships, ready to sail far away at any time. ? Then we sat together on the bridge and floated the picked wild ginger flowers down the stream like butterflies. Throwing the leaves into the stream, it flows away with the stream, and it is really like a green boat. The girl also told me:? Men with hazel eyes are doomed to wander. ? Then we said goodbye gently and never met again.
Now, the years fly like butterflies, like boats, and I have spent a long period of wandering years. Only the flowers of wild ginger are sad every autumn. Later, I lived on Mucha Mountain, and there was a deserted hut not far behind the house. In spring, the peach blossom hung like a string of crystal white pearls. When the autumn wind blew, the white elves of wild ginger flowers flew in the wind. I often sit alone at the foot of the fallen wall, and once I sit for an afternoon, I feel that the mood in autumn can be described in two poems: At the end of the song, people disappear, and the river is green. ?
Memories are like flowers, while warm memories are like flowers, which will be scattered in the cold night sky.
I put the wild ginger flowers I bought in a huge pottery jar, and the fragrance was entangled in the hut. When I went out, the fragrance was like dragging a tail far away, and I walked away and followed. It occurred to me that even small things like buying flowers have many precious experiences.
I was trying to catch a train to meet a friend who was far away. I was stopped by a child selling daffodils in front of the train station, and insisted that people buy flowers. I bought a large bouquet of daffodils, but I didn't expect that the bouquet of daffodils would become the best gift. Every time my friend wrote back, he mentioned the bouquet of daffodils and said: I didn't expect you to be so thoughtful! ?
I'm going to see a female elder again. The old woman had a beautiful and glorious time when she was young. When I walked into the alley, I suddenly had an idea and went back to the flower shop to buy a bunch of roses, one * * * nine. I said:? Youth is long. ? Actually moved her to tears in her eyes, and she said: It has been more than ten years since anyone sent me roses. Unexpectedly, I really didn't expect anyone to send me roses. ? With that, she sobbed softly. In this mood, I almost watched the years creep by quietly and silently. After two weeks, I went to see her. Those roses were still in full bloom. It turned out that she had frozen them in the refrigerator with a vase, trying to catch the end of her youth, which made people feel distressed.
Every day when I go to work, I will pass by Fuxingfu Road. On the fast lane of Fuxing South Road and Nanjing East Road, there are often some people selling magnolia flowers, including children, girls and middle-aged women. They string four magnolia flowers in a string, and when the car passes by, they knock on your window and say: Sir, buy a bunch of fragrant magnolia flowers. ? It makes it a habit for me to buy a bunch of magnolia flowers every day. I like that feeling? Someone knocks on the window and sells you a bunch of flowers, and then the horizon is different, as if walking through a country road, with flowers and birds singing along the way.
The most impressive trip was in Dong 'ao Township in the east, where all cars taking the Suhua Highway had to get off at the wrong bus. There is a mountain boy with a pair of big eyes who sells wild lilies he picked from the mountain. Those lilies that bloom in the deep mountains are particularly small and fragrant. I bought all the wild lilies, sat in the window of the coast, and looked at the blue of the distant sea and the white of the lilies in front of me. Suddenly, I had an idea that these lilies are lonely when they bloom in the deep mountains. Only when someone appreciates their beauty and fragrance can they enhance the significance of their existence. Even the best flowers bloom in the mountains, if they are not seen, they will lose their beauty.
Therefore, I always thank those who sell flowers. They are strangers to me, because with the flower soul, we can have a little connection at any time, and a small handful of flowers comes from having its strength.
When we are on the road at will, when we meet a flower seller, we may spend a little money to buy a handful of flowers, sometimes keep them for ourselves to enjoy, and sometimes give them to friends. No matter how we deal with them, it will always be worth the price! Selected Works of Lin Qingxuan's Lyric Prose by Borrowing Scenes Part III: Assigned to the Most Precious Mother
A friend came back from abroad to attend his father's funeral, because he came too late, and his fortune had been divided by his brothers.
my friend said to me: Before I went home, my brothers split up all their possessions. They left me nothing but our only mother. ?
As my friend spoke, he began to cry in the dark room. My friend had a successful career abroad, so he was not crying for his property, but sad for his brother's kindness.
I comforted my friend and said: It is the greatest blessing that you can get the only mother! In this world, there are many, many people who are willing to give up all their wealth and only get their own mothers! ? Hearing this, my friend smiled with joy.
I said: If your brother doesn't even leave you his only mother, you are really miserable! ?
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