The dream came suddenly, without any prelude, except for a voice in the distance asking me, what is your favorite flower in the spring of September? I answered without thinking, peony.
I woke up after such a short conversation. At that time, the light-colored curtains were being infiltrated into the glassy luster by the faint morning light. I rubbed my hair and stretched my legs, thinking of the personnel I had experienced in these years, the long and tangled growth, the confused and persistent pursuit of happiness, and so on, and suddenly I couldn't sleep anymore.
Peony, this visualized name has been away from me for 20 years. I don't understand why I blurted it out for sure in my dream. This mystery is generally difficult to explain. I lay in bed trying to remember the plant Paeonia lactiflora, and many fragments of the past were carefully rubbed out of the memory scene like cultural relics. I haven't done this for a long time. They say people should move on, and I think so. We can have a happy future and forget those unchangeable fates. So, bit by bit, I divided my life into two halves, or I divided my thoughts into two sides with an invisible but strong screen. When you are happy, you are crazy and happy, and when you are in pain, you are passionate and painful. But I share the former with others, and the latter never gives anyone a look.
I vaguely remember that the peony is in bloom now, in April, in mid-spring. I was very young at that time, and my grandparents still needed to work hard to make ends meet. In addition to serving crops, grandpa also planted some medicinal materials in the private plot, such as peony, peony, coptis root, Eucommia bark, phellodendron bark and so on. In spring and summer, there is always a faint pungent smell of traditional Chinese medicine in front of grandma's house, and all kinds of birds are chirping happily inside. In midsummer, cicadas sing like songs, and the mountain village is quiet but not lonely.
I vaguely remember that peony and peony are very similar in shape, such as shriveled shrubs, bony branches and dislocated joints. Wide and sparse leaves propped on the top of the head, like a torn umbrella. Grandpa planted them alternately on the ridge near the yard, eradicated all weeds in the field, and exposed the pure dark brown soil. The soil particles are loose and fine, and they are being evaporated by the sun, accumulating the winter chill. Earthworms and reptiles keep coming in and out, churning out a fishy smell and infiltrating into the wind.
I think it should be such an early morning, with transparent spring sunshine everywhere and clear spring air flowing slowly in the mountain village. When I was four or five years old, I ran around in the field yard, unwilling to be lonely, and then my steps stopped on the ridge. I am ecstatic when I recall that moment, which seems to be no less than Columbus' discovery of the new continent. Because of the old dwarf plants that used to be inconspicuous in my eyes, I inadvertently swayed a large number of pink flowers on my head, and the brilliance of the old branches and flowers almost reached the point of disharmony. Flowers are layered like a princess's skirt in a fairy tale. The breeze gently turned them over and stirred my original chaotic touch. Bees with transparent wings and fluffy limbs and butterflies with rotten clothes are flying between them, and the air is buzzing, which is small but vivid enough. I stood in front of the ridge for a long time, fascinated by such a beautiful gift from spring. But now it is impossible for me to describe or depict these flowers in more detail. Too many details have long been lost in the stumbling years, only the emotional years engraved on the soul will never die, like the soul being opened a window facing the sea, which will never be closed.
Then I excitedly dragged my partner Lily to the front of the ridge. I pointed to those flowers and asked her, do you think they look like the flowers in the hands of Guanyin Bodhisattva in Journey to the West? She said yes! I said, are they fake? She asked me what was fake, and I said it was as fake as a plastic flower in a vase! She seems to nod in agreement with me. Later, I don't know who suggested taking it off and putting it in a vase, so we put away all the bottles in grandma's house and filled them with water. I creatively put these glass bottles under the shrine of grandma's house, because grandma often tells me that there are bodhisattvas there. After making these preparations, Lily and I rushed to the ridge behind the house, and the whirlwind generally picked all our beloved flowers.
I have always stubbornly believed that spring at that time was no different from the fairy tale world. The air is fragrant, the sky is blue and white clouds are as soft as pillows. The dense and mysterious pine forests in the distant mountains always make me believe that Snow White or dwarfs live there. The orchid bamboo forest in front of the house is like a soft lake. As long as the breeze blows, the slender bamboo will curl and dance, and the blue waves will ripple. There are wild flowers everywhere in Shan Ye. My favorite is the flat bamboo flower, which has unique strip-shaped slender dense green leaves. Flowers are elegant, and the faint purple * will gradually become-milky white * in the process of blooming. They are scattered in the forest or on the roadside, swaying in the wind. At this time, the migratory birds are singing happily and echoing each other tirelessly. These notes, along with the tinkling sound of the piano and harp of the mountain spring, become the crisp background music in spring. But unfortunately, I forgot not only the appearance of peony, but also its fragrance. Does it smell good? I really don't remember. I still remember Eucommia ulmoides, Coptis chinensis and other plants with strong medicinal fragrance.
It wasn't long before Lily and I were busy that day, and grandma's humble and even dark room was arranged like a stage. Sunlight pours in from the carved wooden window lattice, forming a golden beam. Grass-green long-necked glass bottles are bathed in the beam, like dancers who are concerned by the spotlight, with enchanting flowers with leaves on their heads. Lily and I danced and laughed in front of the vase, no matter whether our skirts were wet or not, we even forgot our favorite house game.
You see, if I haven't picked up this memory for a long time, how can I understand how simple and happy we were? Innocence is bliss.
After a while, I probably felt that Lily and I couldn't share this grand happiness, so I made a special trip to find my grandmother who was working and let her go home. Grandma is the person who loves me the least in the world. Of course, if my mother were still alive, her old man wouldn't have to pay so much. But in any case, my grandmother made up for my early maternal love to a great extent, so that I would not be too lonely when I grew up. At that time, grandma still obeyed my wish and really put down her hoe and went home with me. On the way, she asked me, what am I doing? What is there to see? I said the suspense, you will know when you get home, so I won't tell you. Grandma just laughed. I still remember that time, she walked like the wind.
Up to now, I don't know if my grandfather's medicinal materials can be sold for money, and whether I will lose anything because I pick flowers. I think so?
However, after seeing the flowers in the hall, my grandmother just kept laughing. As for my clothes being wet, as for the herbs that picked flowers, she didn't condemn a word. I also asked her, is it beautiful? Does it look nice? She said beautiful, beautiful.
Grandma still talks to me often. You were poor when you were a child. But in fact, she doesn't understand that she gave me so much love, which has long been the reason for my happiness. The village with grandma has irreplaceable significance for me to embrace. Whenever I feel wronged or afraid of the cold, she will let me find her, so that I can get a long hug and comfort and regain my strength.
After school, I was displaced several times, and I can no longer go back to my grandmother's house to see peony flowers in April. During the summer vacation, I went back and made a special trip to the ridge behind the house. Those herbs had nothing but bony branches and leaves. Grandma said that the season is over and you are not there when the flowers bloom. At that time, I will be very sad, yes, it's really hard. I experienced this emotion when I was very young. I wanted to catch the regret that I couldn't catch, and I wanted to cry but I was afraid of being teased.
Grandma took me home. She touched my cheek with a big hand as rough as a brown pad with dandruff and said, Come on, play with your toys! Only then did I find that those simple and cheap toys before I left were carefully collected by my grandmother. Trojans, glass balls, discarded medicine bottles, red cloth monkeys sewn for me by hand, and even the small orange schoolbag that my mother bought for me when she was alive were all meekly and quietly collected in a cupboard, waiting for me to go home. The first touching experience in my life came from the infinite love and treasure my grandmother gave me. Because she loves me, because she misses me, a rough rural woman who has dealt with Hotan all her life will be so delicate that she will collect all the broken things that are insignificant to the cultivators. This is the so-called affection.
I have missed peony flowers for several years, every spring. Of course, it's not just peony flowers. Everything in that village is enough to evoke my unforgettable love. I was sitting in the classroom worrying about my grandmother, worrying about her cough recurring, worrying that she would be cold when sleeping alone at night, worrying that she would be cheated by unscrupulous vendors when she went to the market ... At that time, I was only seven or eight years old, so don't doubt that the love of a child is similar to that of any adult, even more delicate and sincere.
My grandmother got carsick, so she went to menstruation's house to see me on foot for dozens of kilometers. It was the twelfth lunar month, and my blue face was frozen with tears. My short hair was tangled on my forehead and my eyes were glazed. I looked at the homesick face at the door day and night, and burst into tears after a short period of incredible. Grandma hugged me and burst into tears. The concept of bitterness is aimed at a five-or six-year-old child, and its taste is straightforward, which will naturally double its analgesic effect. I think all the delicate and sensitive feelings in my life are due to such a fragmented childhood.
When I grow up slowly and difficultly, I finally seem helpless and mature. I know I should study hard. I know I'm different from many children. I can't be spoiled, I can't fantasize, I can't get too much from this world.
But no matter when, I still miss my village, my grandmother and the peony that will be in full bloom in April. That winding mountain road seems long and bumpy to many people, but I always regard it as the only way to happiness. That village is like my son and palace forever. As long as I return to her arms, I can be an innocent baby again. Love is the necessary amniotic fluid for all people who leave their first home.
When I was a teenager, many villagers asked me why I could get used to the monotony and backwardness of life in mountain villages. I'm surprised. I don't know how to explain it to them. Love is such a prosperous scenery that I am never lonely. On the contrary, whenever I leave my grandmother's village, the whole world is desolate and unbearable for me.
My favorite cartoon as a child was Daughter of the Nile. The original reason why I was fascinated by that story was that anyone who put a pot of water in the pyramid for a few days and then took it out to wash his face would stay young forever. I immediately gave birth to a wish, I want to go to Egypt, I want to get such a basin of water to go home and let my grandmother wash her face, and I want my grandmother to live forever. Including some magic drugs in martial arts TV later, I have been longing for it. I have always loved my grandmother.
Many people have asked Grandma that you have spent almost your whole life on a granddaughter of the opposite sex. What's the point of doing this? Grandma always smiles and answers silently. Occasionally, grandma will tease me, son. Will you remember me when you grow up? I said of course I remember. Let me buy you something delicious. Grandma also said that at that time, I was afraid that I would lose all my teeth and couldn't chew delicacies! I said, I will buy you tofu. If you chew it, it will rot. Grandma laughed at me. Spitting out a few pieces of tofu from my childish mouth can make grandma happy for decades, and I often talk about it today.
The first salary I earned in my life was used to buy two sets of clothes for my grandparents. On that day, my grandmother was holding her clothes, but she was not as happy and gratified as I thought. She was in tears and said, how can I bear to wear it? How much money can you earn? This is really a sin ... Grandpa made a gesture and put the clothes in the closet. He said that such good clothes should be kept first, and it is not easy to wear.
I'm glad I bought clothes in time, because my grandfather died a few months later. Some love, once remembered, should be expressed immediately, even if there will be many regrets in the world.
One spring after my work, probably April, is the season when bamboo shoots grow in the mountains. Grandma went to the bamboo forest to pick some bamboo shoots, thinking that I love them, and asked a villager who went to town to send me two. The newly peeled bamboo shoots are fresh, with a faint green color-milky yellow, and the fragrance of Lanzhu has not been lightly exhausted. I held those two heavy bamboo shoots, and my heart was warm, only to remember that I hadn't visited my grandmother for several months. I opened my wallet and there was only one hundred dollars in it. I took out a fifty-dollar bill and handed it to the villagers, asking him to take it to my grandmother for me and let her buy some delicious food.
Before long, I returned to my grandmother's house. My grandmother said to me cheerfully, you are really, I brought you two bamboo shoots, but you asked someone to bring money back. The villagers joked with me that the old woman's bamboo shoots really sold for a good price! When grandma said this, her old hazel eyes shone with childlike happiness.
I can repay my grandmother's meager love, and she always magnifies and cherishes it and indulges in it.
Anyway, I finally grew up. You have to believe that even though there are some scars in this process, I always know how to be happy. Love is the greatest education in the world.
During the earthquake, I thought something would happen to grandma. Of course, she thought something would happen to me, but fortunately, we are all safe.
It's just that this village, which is of great significance in my life, like the palace in my arms, disappeared in this disaster, and my grandmother and villagers' homes will be rebuilt in another good place. This is obviously a change I never expected. Bamboo groves, wooden houses, fountains of mountain streams, peony, birds singing cicadas are still as clear as pictures, but they have disappeared in my lifetime, which really makes people cry.
The weather around Tomb-Sweeping Day was very bad. On rainy days, the temperature plummeted. I have an appointment with my grandma to visit my mother in Tomb-Sweeping Day. I got up early that day, wore shoes and clothes suitable for hiking into the mountains, and bought wax paper money. Of course, I know that the road after the earthquake will be quite steep and dangerous, but I have never been afraid. As I said, this is the only way to happiness, at any time. But my grandmother resolutely stopped me. She said, of course, your mother doesn't want you to risk meeting her. Instead, you broke her heart. Just keep it in mind. It's not too late to wait until the weather is fine, and it's not for outsiders to see. I silently put down the paper money, feeling that grandma's words made sense. Things that become mere formality are always melodramatic because their essential feelings are not rich enough, which obviously is not suitable for my relationship with my mother.
On the third day after that, I had a dream about peony.
I have always felt that everyone's heart is a castle with many empty houses. When we were born, every room in the castle was closed, and then as we grew up, these doors would be gradually opened by people we had experienced, and they were full of some pain and beauty, doubts and yearning. And the castle I own, many rooms and doors, were opened in the years after my mother left, and every room was filled with many feelings, roaring in my young body.
But fortunately, my castle, like many ordinary children, still treasures many pure and beautiful things, such as my grandmother, village and peony flowers. I am so tired that I forget them occasionally, but I will never be forgotten by them. Even in my dreams, they will come back to greet me and visit me, reminding me of the existence of happiness and the great significance of love. It is precisely because of these pure and beautiful existence that I will become brave when I walk through those difficulties and bumps, or at least feel warm and not lonely.
When I finished typing this passage, I suddenly believed in some kind of eternal existence. The disappearance of things, the eternity of quality.
Love is all the villages that are loved.
Postscript: I have been trying to write a paragraph for my beloved grandmother for two years, probably because I want to express my feelings too strongly and richly, and I can't find an entrance to write. After having this dream about peony three days ago, I made a brief description in my blog. Today, I want to polish this article, and suddenly I find that the peony or village referred to in this dream is all because of my grandmother. Once everything in the world is given the meaning of love, it always shines like that.
This film is dedicated to the person who loves me the most in the world.