The hand is so common that people no longer often feel its existence. However, one evening, when I came home by car from the city, a pair of calloused hands strongly attracted my attention.
At first, I just sat there and read the evening paper. Intentionally or unintentionally, my eyes occasionally slipped and happened to fall on an old woman's calloused hand.
My heart shook at once, and my eyes couldn't help looking up along these hands: first, I saw a bulging cloth bag between my hands; Then I saw a washed and faded blue cloth jacket; Further up is a weather-beaten and wrinkled face with a pair of kind eyes; Finally, a white towel was wrapped around her head, and silvery white hair fell freely from it. All this left an excellent impression on me.
But what impressed me the most was those calloused hands, which attracted my attention like magnets. The old woman is talking with a young student. She talked about seeing her son studying in Beijing from the countryside, about her quality of life in the countryside, and about coming here in a strange place and thanking the young people for their help.
Listening to her words, I couldn't help falling into memories, and decades of past events suddenly came to my mind. In the early autumn of my hometown, autumn crops have matured, and the endless plains are covered with millet, sorghum, old corn, soybeans, mung beans and so on. They are dark green, dotted with patches of gold and light red and deep red spots.
Although the summer heat has not disappeared, the breath of autumn has filled the earth. I am only five or six years old, and sorghum is more than twice as tall as me.
Walking into the sorghum field is like walking into a big forest. I can only see the blue sky overhead through the thick leaves. I come here every morning to bake sorghum leaves before the morning dew is over.
Dewdrops on the leaves are like pearls, shining with faint white light. Looking at my eyes together carefully, I can see that my face is as small as sesame seeds, which is very fresh and interesting.
Old corn is much taller than me, too. I have to stand on tiptoe to pick a stick. Xiaomi is almost as tall as me, and now he is mature. When the wind blows, there is A Jin Lang.
Only soybeans and mung beans are shorter than me. Walking inside, I feel very cheerful, not sulking at all, and quite cocky. Therefore, I like to help adults in the bean field.
At that time, I was pestering my mother all day except playing with my grandmother. Wherever she goes, I will follow her. Sometimes, before cooking lunch, she will go to the field to pick green pods, peel off the beans and take them home for lunch.
I followed. It's nearly noon, the sky is high and the clouds are light, cicadas are everywhere, grasshoppers climb high branches and sing, and the air is filled with the faint smell of grass and earth.
The sun shines on the body, although it is still a little hot, but it gives people a warm and comfortable feeling, not as hard as summer. At this time, my interest is very high.
I followed my mother everywhere. Catch a grasshopper for her to see; If you pick a wild flower, show it to her.
I feel strange that there is black mold on the stick, so I must ask my mother why; Some pods are short and thick. Why? In a word, this bean field is my paradise. I talk like a lark and run like an antelope. My legs and mouth never stop.
When it comes to work, I am so absorbed that I always want to pick the most green pods as quickly as possible. But when checking the results, I was short of breath: my mother's basket was full, and mine was less than half.
I will carefully observe and study when I am disappointed. Soon, I found that there was nothing mysterious about it. The key was my mother's calloused hands.
These hands look very thick, because of years of work, full of calluses, but they are very dexterous and quick to pick up pods. This is something I didn't notice before.
My little mind can't help being a little confused. I stared at it for a long time and didn't want to look away.
At that time, I was young and had little experience. Many things that are closely related to my life, I can't connect them with my hands, such as cooking, washing clothes, fetching water, growing vegetables, raising pigs, feeding chickens and so on.
Of course, I can read poems like "thread in a kind mother's hand, making clothes for her wayward son's body". However, since then, these calloused hands have occupied an important position in my heart and left an indelible impression.
Later, when I was a few years older, I left my mother and followed my uncle to study in the city. It is Wang Ma who takes care of my life instead of my mother. She is also an old man. She used to be a countryman and a farmer for half her life.
Later, the husband died and the son fled to the customs. I haven't heard from you for twenty years. Alone, she couldn't live alone in the village, so she had to come to the city to make a living.
My uncle invited her to our house to help. Cooking, washing clothes, sweeping the floor and wiping the table, all the trivial work at home was contracted by her alone.
In addition to doing those rigid jobs from morning till night, Wang Ma also has some seasonal jobs every year. Every year in late summer and early autumn, just when cordate telosma blooms, she rubs hemp thread, prepares soles and makes shoes for us.
All this work was done in the evening. At this time, everyone ate dinner, sat in the yard to enjoy the cool, and chatted casually in the darkness under the starlight.
I lay on my back on the mat and saw the twinkling stars in the night sky through the messy branches and leaves of the begonia tree. The shadow of a big, round spider web is faintly printed on the gloomy sky.
From time to time, there are meteors in the sky, dragging their long flame tails and disappearing into the darkness. Everything is so quiet.
In the silence, cordate telosma exudes a strong fragrance. This is when Wang Ma rubs twine.
You won't hear much in this job. Now, however, the sound of friction can be clearly heard.
This cannot but attract my attention. I turned around and lay on my side, watching her rub through the faint light outside the window.
What surprised me most was that her hands were covered with calluses. These hands look clumsy, and all ten fingers are clumsy.
2. The main content of the article "A pair of calloused hands" is that the author wrote four hands, all of which are calloused.
The author thinks of an old woman's mother from her callused hands on the bus. At that time, the author was a child of five or six years old. He followed his mother to pick pods. He is always in high spirits and always wants to pick as many pods as possible, but his mother always passes him easily. Since then, my mother has left an indelible impression on the author's mind. My mother's hands, in particular, look thick and full of calluses, but she can pick up the pods very dexterously and quickly.
Then I wrote about Wang Ma's hand that took care of herself. Wang Ma's hands are clever and magical. Whenever we have a good meal, Wang Ma is always rubbing hemp rope, and the horse is obedient to her. As long as she wants, as long as she wants, she dare not disobey at all. Wang Ma's hand is very similar to her mother's, full of calluses.
The last one is the hand of the peasant commune aunt appointed by the author. Her hands are also covered with calluses, and she enthusiastically taught the author to cut old corn platycodon grandiflorum. Seeing aunt's hand, the author's feelings for her came to life.
3. A pair of calloused hands Who doesn't have a hand in Ji Xianlin's prose "A pair of calloused hands"? Everyone has two hands.
The hand is so common that people no longer often feel its existence. However, one evening, when I came home by car from the city, a pair of calloused hands strongly attracted my attention.
At first, I just sat there and read the evening paper. Intentionally or unintentionally, my eyes occasionally slipped and happened to fall on an old woman's calloused hand.
My heart shook at once, and my eyes couldn't help looking up along these hands: first, I saw a bulging cloth bag between my hands; Then I saw a washed and faded blue cloth jacket; Further up is a weather-beaten and wrinkled face with a pair of kind eyes; Finally, a white towel was wrapped around her head, and silvery white hair fell freely from it. All this left an excellent impression on me.
But what impressed me the most was those calloused hands, which attracted my attention like magnets. The old woman is talking with a young student. She talked about seeing her son studying in Beijing from the countryside, about her quality of life in the countryside, and about coming here in a strange place and thanking the young people for their help.
Listening to her words, I couldn't help falling into memories, and decades of past events suddenly came to my mind. In the early autumn of my hometown, autumn crops have matured, and the endless plains are covered with millet, sorghum, old corn, soybeans, mung beans and so on. They are dark green, dotted with patches of gold and light red and deep red spots.
Although the summer heat has not disappeared, the breath of autumn has filled the earth. I am only five or six years old, and sorghum is more than twice as tall as me.
Walking into the sorghum field is like walking into a big forest. I can only see the blue sky overhead through the thick leaves. I come here every morning to bake sorghum leaves before the morning dew is over.
Dewdrops on the leaves are like pearls, shining with faint white light. Looking at my eyes together carefully, I can see that my face is as small as sesame seeds, which is very fresh and interesting.
Old corn is much taller than me, too. I have to stand on tiptoe to pick a stick. Xiaomi is almost as tall as me, and now he is mature. When the wind blows, there is A Jin Lang.
Only soybeans and mung beans are shorter than me. Walking inside, I feel very cheerful, not sulking at all, and quite cocky. Therefore, I like to help adults in the bean field.
At that time, I was pestering my mother all day except playing with my grandmother. Wherever she goes, I will follow her. Sometimes, before cooking lunch, she will go to the field to pick green pods, peel off the beans and take them home for lunch.
I followed. It's nearly noon, the sky is high and the clouds are light, cicadas are everywhere, grasshoppers climb high branches and sing, and the air is filled with the faint smell of grass and earth.
The sun shines on the body, although it is still a little hot, but it gives people a warm and comfortable feeling, not as hard as summer. At this time, my interest is very high.
I followed my mother everywhere. Catch a grasshopper for her to see; If you pick a wild flower, show it to her.
I feel strange that there is black mold on the stick, so I must ask my mother why; Some pods are short and thick. Why? In a word, this bean field is my paradise. I talk like a lark and run like an antelope. My legs and mouth never stop.
When it comes to work, I am so absorbed that I always want to pick the most green pods as quickly as possible. But when checking the results, I was short of breath: my mother's basket was full, and mine was less than half.
I will carefully observe and study when I am disappointed. Soon, I found that there was nothing mysterious about it. The key was my mother's calloused hands.
These hands look very thick, because of years of work, full of calluses, but they are very dexterous and quick to pick up pods. This is something I didn't notice before.
My little mind can't help being a little confused. I stared at it for a long time and didn't want to look away.
At that time, I was young and had little experience. Many things that are closely related to my life, I can't connect them with my hands, such as cooking, washing clothes, fetching water, growing vegetables, raising pigs, feeding chickens and so on.
Of course, I can read poems like "thread in a kind mother's hand, making clothes for her wayward son's body". However, since then, these calloused hands have occupied an important position in my heart and left an indelible impression.
Later, when I was a few years older, I left my mother and followed my uncle to study in the city. It is Wang Ma who takes care of my life instead of my mother. She is also an old man. She used to be a countryman and a farmer for half her life.
Later, the husband died and the son fled to the customs. I haven't heard from you for twenty years. Alone, she couldn't live alone in the village, so she had to come to the city to make a living.
My uncle invited her to our house to help. Cooking, washing clothes, sweeping the floor and wiping the table, all the trivial work at home was contracted by her alone.
In addition to doing those rigid jobs from morning till night, Wang Ma also has some seasonal jobs every year. Every year in late summer and early autumn, just when cordate telosma blooms, she rubs hemp thread, prepares soles and makes shoes for us.
All this work was done in the evening. At this time, everyone ate dinner, sat in the yard to enjoy the cool, and chatted casually in the darkness under the starlight.
I lay on my back on the mat and saw the twinkling stars in the night sky through the messy branches and leaves of the begonia tree. The shadow of a big, round spider web is faintly printed on the gloomy sky.
From time to time, there are meteors in the sky, dragging their long flame tails and disappearing into the darkness. Everything is so quiet.
In the silence, cordate telosma exudes a strong fragrance. This is when Wang Ma rubs twine.
You won't hear much in this job. Now, however, the sound of friction can be clearly heard.
This cannot but attract my attention. I turned around and lay on my side, watching her rub through the faint light outside the window.
What surprised me most was that her hands were covered with calluses. These hands look clumsy, and all ten fingers are clumsy.
4. Wang Zengqi's "My Mom Ji Xianlin's calluses" Wang Zengqi's "My Mom and Dad have been married three times".
My biological mother's surname is Yang. I don't know her scientific name.
Both men and women in the Yang family rank first. My mother's generation ranks "Zun", and my mother should be called Yang Zun.
The year before last, I wrote to ask my sister what our mother's name was. My sister wrote back and said, "Senior Four".
I think it's strange. Why is it called such a name? Is it a nickname? Not exactly. I know my mother is not on the fourth line.
How can a person not even know his mother's name? Because I was too young when my mother was alive. My mother died when I was three years old.
I don't remember her at all She had lung disease and moved to a room called a "small room" after her illness, and no one was allowed to take me to see her.
I only remember that my father made a stove out of a coal oil tank. There are two pits in the coal jar, which can cook porridge, soup and bird's nest for my mother at the same time. I still remember that my father hired a boat to accompany her to see a doctor in Huaicheng, and I also went with the boat.
I still remember that my father was fishing at the bow when the ship was moored halfway. I remember hanging a lot of kohlrabi in the hut. I always remember the taste of kohlrabi.
I can only see my mother in her portrait. According to my period, this portrait is very similar.
The mother in the portrait is very thin and her eyebrows are slightly frowning. Looks a lot like my sister.
My mother has read books. She wrote a big word every day before she got sick.
Once I found a stack of big characters written by my mother in my father's studio. The handwriting is very delicate. When I went back to my hometown the year before last, I met an old neighbor who remembered my mother.
I have seen my mother looking at flowers in the garden-this neighbor is separated from our garden by a short wall. My mother calls her "the little bride".
"Little bride, come here and give you a flower to wear." So I seem to see my mother looking at flowers in the garden and think she is very kind to her neighbors.
This "little bride" is an old lady in her eighties! I still remember that my mother likes Beijing and winter dishes. This thing is not available in our hometown. It was brought back by relatives of officials in Beijing and put in a clay pot.
After her mother died, the "small room" where she was ill was locked up, containing all the things she used before her death, all the dowry-"stacks of cupboards", as well as suitcases and copper braziers, as well as brazier stands painted with red paint.
My stepmother sometimes opens the door and takes one or two things, so I follow her in and have a look. There is a small yard outside the "small room"
There is an autumn-leaf-shaped terraced field in little ass near the south. There are some begonias on the flower stand.
These begonias bloom and fall, and no one cares. "'Flowers are lonely, but the color is red.
My first stepmother's maiden name is Zhang. Her family used to live in zhang jia zhuang, and she was a rich man in the countryside.
Later, I built a house in the city and moved into it. The house is brand-new, with new bricks and tiles and new colors of paint.
There are no flowers and trees, but there is a large mulberry field. When I was a child, I wondered why I planted so many mulberry trees, because I didn't raise silkworms. They are all in this room with their aunt.
My father went to my father-in-law's house for entertainment, and the conversation was very light, and he also chatted with my aunt here. I didn't go until "over there" invited me to sit down.
Stepmother is in poor health. She had a bad cough before marriage. When she went to church with my father, she ate an imported almond dew to suppress it.
She is the eldest daughter, but my grandfather obviously doesn't love her. Her dowry is not rich.
When she is going out to be a guest, she sometimes wears a little jewelry. Better jewelry is a pair of jade earrings.
Once, she wanted to take us to grandpa's house to pay a New Year call. She dressed up and changed into a gray mouse skin coat. I think she will be cold.
How can you wear a gray mouse coat in this weather? However, she only has a fur coat. I suddenly have an indescribable feeling about my stepmother.
I sympathize with her and love her. Stepmother is not easy to be.
My stepmother came across a situation when she walked in the door. Qianfang (my biological mother) left three children: my sister, me and a younger sister. This will definitely be a heavy burden for the stepmother.
There are mothers-in-law, sisters-in-law and some relatives and neighbors. They all look with their eyes and listen with their ears. Maybe I have something to do with my mother (we all call her stepmother), and she likes me very much.
Every time she goes back to her mother's house, she doesn't come back until she has dinner. The Zhang family always calls for two rickshaws, one for my sister and one for my mother.
There is a rule in the Zhang family (this rule is common in many families) that when a girl returns to her husband's house, she should give her child two lighted benzoin. So I ate two pieces of benzoin and snuggled in my mother's arms.
Rickshaws go very slowly. The shadows of people and shops on both sides are retreating, and I am a little confused.
I feel very happy when I smell the aroma of benzoin. In the first grade of primary school, in winter, I came home from school one day and pulled a disgusting shit. I couldn't hold it, so I pulled it in my pants (I remember my shit was hot).
I wriggled home, and my trouser pocket was full of shit. Hearing this, the stepmother quickly boiled water to wash my ass without saying anything.
She wiped me clean and made me sit around the quilt. Then wash my underwear and brush my cotton trousers.
Not only did she not say a word about me, but she didn't even frown. My sister has head lice. Mother cooks herbs to wash her hair and combs her hair with a comb.
Mother Zhang can read books and her daughter's classics. There is also a second edition of Daughter Classic, the one she read. She brought R from home. I have seen it.
There is such a sentence in it: "Parents Zhang, gossip Li, I don't care about other people's affairs." She lives by this moral standard.
She sometimes recites the sutra: Diamond Sutra, Heart Sutra and High King Sutra. She read it to her aunt.
Some of her cooking is rural, such as boiled pumpkin with pimples and boiled lily with oil first. I think this way of eating is very strange.
She died of lung disease. My second stepmother's surname is Ren.
Ren Jia is a big landlord in Shao Bo. There are several gates in the manor, and there is a trench suspension bridge outside the manor. My father got married in Shao Bo.
I was seventeen and a sophomore that year. Father wrote to my sister and me and invited us to his wedding.
Ren Jia sent a long-term worker to pick us up at Shao Bo Pier with a trolley. My sister and I sat alone.
It's very interesting to ride this unicycle for the first time. I am very old, and my mother is very polite to us, calling me a "gentleman".
I/kloc-left my hometown to study in Kunming at the age of 0/9. 1986 When I went back to my hometown, my mother called me "Ceng Qi" instead of E1-at this time I was 66 years old.
5. What's the name of the song "Callus" in the lyrics? Your calloused hands.
Singer: Wang Huadong
Lyrics:
I helped plow the field, holding a hoe,
The industrious figure stays in the field;
Swing shovels, open garbage dumps,
You run around for a living.
The look in your eyes,
Your calloused hands,
Holding a family's winter Xia Chunqiu.
Hold my bald head, hold my pipe,
Never see you frown;
Picking mountain flowers and holding streams,
Your laughter is always after the struggle.
Your calloused hands,
Grasp the joys and sorrows of a family.
Think of the gloomy sun,
Ask if you are in trouble.
Father, you were born with hard bones,
You were born with a hard bone.