Snow fell on my shoulders and piled up one by one, but there was a safe smile on my mouth. Yes, although it is a cold winter, I no longer avoid these snowflakes because of my hurried steps and ignore the beauty of this season. In fact, every season is worth cherishing. The vitality of spring, the vitality of summer, the quiet beauty of autumn and the poetry of winter are combined into a complete time station. Looking back, I feel that every season has written a warm story.
At the end of the year, it seems that trivial details are increasing invisibly, and the pressure has arrived without an appointment. It is said that there is no motivation without pressure, but with pressure, it can only make the mood more impetuous. A job has been done for a long time, and it seems that it has lost its previous enthusiasm. Just like living, I have actually begun to calm down and get used to a stable life. Friends or familiar people around me are busy charging themselves with gold plating, and I have no enthusiasm for learning except insisting on writing my own simple words.
I don't know if the world is too noisy, or if I can't get inner peace, so I don't even read as carefully as before. Just as I was thinking about my state, the ringing of my mobile phone broke the temporary silence. My friend asked me to write a manuscript for her. Gratitude doesn't need to be too long, just two thousand words, and it's best not to be too lyrical, otherwise it's not quite like her style. This manuscript has been completed and she wants to put it in her systematic publication, saying that she has worked in the new unit for five years and hasn't written a word. I asked her why she didn't write it herself. There was a time when her writing was excellent, and her articles often appeared in publications or radio waves. At that time, I often read her words carefully and my heart was full of admiration. She said that now she can't calm down at all. She hasn't written for many years, and her former talents have long been submerged in the years.
Yes, this is real life, which is different from our dreams, but we have gradually become accustomed to the life of multiple roles, so we try our best to decorate our pale life with our favorite colors so that our hearts will not be sad. People always have some hobbies to enrich their lives and hearts, so as not to lose themselves in the troubled world. In fact, if you think about it carefully, it is also a kind of happiness to be able to calm down and do a good job.
People will always have colorful memories when they grow up, just like the time spent with friends all the way, which undoubtedly makes them no longer lonely on the road of growth. Perhaps it is because our parents grew up together, and that kind of familiarity and tacit understanding seems to have been passed on to us all the time. Although we really met and got along in the first grade, we hit it off. I remember coming home from school that night, and as soon as I entered the room, I saw guests at home. I was a timid and introverted child since I was a child. I bowed my head and didn't see who it was, so I simply called my uncle and aunt and hid in my cabin. As a result, my friends of the same age followed me in and held my hand to talk about school. My friend has been outgoing and lively since childhood. This kind of chat seems relaxed and natural for a long time.
When my mother invited me to dinner, my friend and I walked hand in hand to the living room. The adults in the living room laughed when they saw us, saying that the two children really hit it off, and they can have a companion when they go to school together in the future. Only then did I know that my friend's father had gone to work and they had moved from Yushu. My friend's father and I grew up together and joined the army together. As a result, my father stayed in the city and my friend's father went to Yushu. In those years, I kept in touch through letters, but whenever I passed by on holiday, my uncle would come to my house to see me, but I didn't seem to see my friends very much.
I am in Class 6, Grade 1, and my friend contacted Class 3, Grade 1. My family lives far from school, the car is forty minutes away, and my friend's house is only ten minutes' walk from school, so my lunch has been settled at her house since then. Although my uncle has been in the army for many years, he is not a rigid person. He is easy-going and always smiles. My aunt, like my mother, has never been to school since childhood and is basically illiterate, but she is an expert in housework, kind and virtuous, and has no sense of restraint at home, just like me. Sometimes it snows and I stay at a friend's house at night. At that time, my friend's house had installed a telephone, so my uncle called our neighbor's house and asked my father to answer the phone, asking me to stay at their house at night. Because they are all too familiar, my father, who has always been strict with me, always agreed easily.
When they finish their homework in the evening, it is usually around 9 o'clock. They packed up and hid in the small bedroom early, saying that they would go to bed early. Actually, there are small programs. Turn off the headlights in the bedroom, turn on the desk lamp, and then start collecting pillow towels, sheets, sofa cushions and the like. After putting things away, in a few minutes, two middle school students became fashionable women. Of course, the so-called clothes are pillow towels and the like. It seems that they are tired of wearing school uniforms for too long, or perhaps they have been waiting for long skirts and the like for too long, so they basically dress up as dresses and then follow their own modeling pace, praising each other, but they also have a good time.
After graduating from junior high school, my friend went to high school and I went to technical secondary school. Because the technical secondary school requires living on campus, we spend less time together, but as long as we have a rest, we will stick together and talk about each other's interesting things on campus, and of course there are young stories. Teenagers' happiness and sadness are so thin that sometimes a gust of wind will blow them away. Perhaps this is the proof of innocence. Look at everything around you with a simple eye. One moment, you may be complaining about someone, and the next moment, the complained person will not hesitate to lend a helping hand when he needs help. Our youth continues in such a changing episode, but we never thought that every gathering laid the groundwork for parting in advance.
When I graduated from technical secondary school, I was eighteen years old and was assigned to the labor department of a state-owned enterprise for statistics. Just as I lamented the gap between the campus and the working environment and worried that my colleagues around me were almost as old as my parents and could not communicate too much, my friend had set foot on a distant train to fulfill her military dream. On the day I went to see her off, we hugged each other and cried, and our tears wet each other's shoulders. When the train disappeared from my sight, my mind went blank.
At that time, I always seemed to feel out of place with the working environment, and my quiet personality was even more silent and lonely, but I yearned for a sunny, enthusiastic and energetic life in my heart. Everyone needs to find an outlet for their feelings or ideas, and words have always been my inner outlet. When I can't write prose or poetry, I vent my emotions by writing letters and write down my inner sighs. My letters are always very long, sometimes trivial, sometimes feeling, and sometimes some memories of the good past. In addition to describing her military life and feelings, many friends replied with encouragement, comfort and concern. She also said that every time I read my letter, it was a pleasure and a happy time. Many times, she is busy training during the day and can only watch it in a hurry. At night, she will read carefully with the flashlight under the bed. As if in this youth, she walked with me.
My friend has been a soldier abroad, and later he was admitted to a military school. During this period, I experienced unemployment, worked outside, and then got a stable job. When she finally returned to this city after graduation, she played the role of my mother. In order to wait for her to play the role of mother, I discussed with my lover and decided to get married after her return. In each other's lives, we all have enough space for each other, so we can't witness each other's happiness without being present.
A year later, she finally ended her eight-year relationship and entered the castle of marriage, and our lovers hit it off unexpectedly, so my husband and I often went to her house for dinner. Then four people went out for a walk together. My friends and I talked hand in hand about marriage and life as before. The two men behind us were whispering something. We would look back from time to time to see if they were speaking ill of us. At that time, we met and waited for retirement. We must travel together and visit the great rivers and mountains of the motherland. Now we must make good money.
My best friend's lover works in other places, and only has dozens of days' home leave every year, but she has never complained about this kind of life. Five years ago, in order to give her children a complete home, she took off her beloved military uniform, went to her lover's city, gave up her familiar medical major, chose a strange industry and started a new life. In the new unit, everything is strange. She constantly adjusts herself to the new environment, new position and new business. Although she sometimes feels tired, she is still full of joy at the end of her separated life. What she left to everyone will always be a happy, healthy and positive image of a "female man". Sometimes I think she looks like a pistachio. Everywhere she goes, there is an ocean of joy. She is such a simple, cheerful and optimistic woman. With such people, everyone's heart must be full of sunshine.
Now, we are all about to enter middle age, and the role of life makes each other feel tired. The children are all in primary school, so they put all their energy on them, and there are few opportunities to meet each other across thousands of kilometers. Just greet each other on the phone, give each other some spiritual support, occasionally talk about the host at home, complain about the naughty children, and then get busy. But even so, I never feel strange, because a concern has always been in each other's hearts and will not be indifferent or disappear at any time.
I received a courier from her last weekend. When I opened it, I found it was a red woolen coat. I called to ask her why she gave me a red dress. Is red too bright for me? She laughed at me for not wearing it now, and I will wear it when I get old. She talked about when she was eighteen. She asked me if I still remember the red sweater I gave her. I smiled. It was after my first month's salary that I wanted to choose a gift for my parents, but my parents insisted that I choose a gift for myself as a congratulation on earning money to support myself. As a result, with the support of my parents, I used my meager income to buy two red sweater coats of the same paragraph, one for myself and one for my friends. That autumn, we almost always traveled in the same clothes and took many photos. Those old photos with youthful years have been quietly left in the album for many years. When I open it again now, it seems that I can still touch the temperature of the past time.
Some feelings are reunited in a familiar melody or somewhere. Many times, I thought that the memory that had gone away would reappear inadvertently, but I could only recall it in the way of memory. Busy life, how many people are willing to let themselves fall into memories? But I like memories, not only because I am getting older, but also because there are footprints I have walked all the way, moving moments and cold moments in my memories. It's just that these experiences constitute my current life trajectory.
Good time. It relieved all the hardships in my life journey, but I collected all the warm drops on the road, made my heart smile at the sun, planted a sunflower of my own in my heart, and cleared weeds in time, so my heart was no longer desolate. That late autumn evening, when I saw a wandering singer with a worn-out guitar on the corner of a busy city, he was singing the story of time with a hoarse noise. I couldn't help but stop, and my mind came up with those youthful years when I met this song, the starry campus lawn, the teenagers who woke up sitting around listening to wonderful music, innocent eyes and beautiful feelings of youth. Everything seems to have happened yesterday.