Staring at the vicissitudes of the trunk, bumps, scratches, bumps and scars on the road of growth are graceful in the trunk like ripples splashed by throwing stones. Touch scars, rough texture, hard texture, sunshine and rain, wind and frost, growing scenery, through the temperature of your fingers, gently flowing at your fingertips, rippling the lost light and shadow, touching the arc of memory, and writing down the fleeting time that only pain can grow.
one
Time is like water, crystal clear, and the lines in the details, such as grass in the cracks, are slender and vivid.
I will never forget that it was a sunny early summer with willows and green grass everywhere. A happy campus, a group of teenagers who don't know the taste of trouble, play the game of eagle catching chicken after school. Sharp-eyed students, seeing the teacher coming from a distance, holding a brand-new book in their hands, eagerly shouted, "Hurry, the teacher is going to send out a new book!" " "
Hu Lala, like a lark who has been hungry for many days, sees the scattered grains on the ground. One by one, they stood on tiptoe, leaned out their heads and surrounded the teacher tightly. The teacher smiled, like warm Xia Feng, fresh after the rain: "This is not a new book, this is the magazine you subscribed to."
Red Warrior magazine, with its beautiful cover, attracts greedy eyes, blue waves, golden beaches, and a group of students wearing red scarves, listening attentively to the old Red Army telling the past. ...
The students who got the magazine had stars in their eyes and flowers on their faces. One by one, like magpies, twittering; It is also like a bee buzzing at the smell of flowers; It's more like finding a hard-won baby and putting it down.
Yes! How can you not get excited? How can you not get excited? In the rural areas of the 1970s, even the subsistence food was scarce, where could there be spiritual food? Besides Chinese and arithmetic textbooks, where are the extracurricular reading materials? But even this dime magazine is not owned by everyone, and not everyone can afford to subscribe. You know, at that time, 20 cents a catty of vinegar, a dime can make five jins of vinegar, which is the seasoning for the whole family for a month, full of mouth. How can mom have spare money for me to buy magazines?
I sat alone on the stool, envious of their concentration on reading; Intoxicated by the sound of their books; Wandering in the looming illustrations. How proud and glorious it is to own a magazine!
The temptation of magazines, like sweet candy, sticky with my desire to chew.
Going home, I boldly looked at my busy mother in front of the stove and said plausibly, "My mother gave me a dime, and the teacher asked me to subscribe to Red Soldier magazine." "Do I have to subscribe?" Looking at my mother's suspicious eyes in the white fog, I looked down: "It's not necessary, but I really want to see it. Jun Xian and lin li have both. " Mother pondered a little: "well, the market will be held in two days." Ask your father to buy you two rabbits when the market is held. You are responsible for feeding and raising them. You can keep the money you sell and subscribe to the magazines you want. "
"good!" I soaked my mother's words in the fog, as if I had received a magazine that I was thinking about.
So, a laundry list and a sickle became my ten-year-old partner after school in the afternoon. The two full-term rabbits also showed joyful expectations on my face.
Magazine, rabbit, rabbit, magazine, switch like a movie. Like a burning fire, like a swaying sail, it urges me to turn my stop and play on my way to school into a step to get home, a figure to carry a basket and cut grass, and twinkle in the sky.
Day after day, in the fields with lush grass and green leaves, the afterglow of the sunset is cutting. Day after day, the afterglow illuminates the green of the grass basket on the shoulder and the growing rabbit.
The sky is deep, the air is fresh and the eyes are clean.
Reed grass beside the canal, full of green, is climbing. Father's sharp sickle, like a crescent moon, gives off clear light. Unable to hold back this wonderful encounter, I held a knife in my right hand and grabbed grass in my left hand, one by one, with a loud voice. Show off, spread out in the laundry list; Pride, let the little heart make public. When you get carried away, you "poop", your left ring finger hurts badly, and deep red blood gurgles out and soaks in the green grass. Nameless nails cover the joints, like an open mouth, turning white flesh. Tears and blood, in the early summer when I was ten years old, flowed ... grabbed the soft fine soil, covered the bleeding wound, and dragged a tender corn leaf around. When I got home, my mother sprinkled salt on the wound and the mud was mixed with blood. Accompanied by the mother's nagging, "silly child, how can you sprinkle soil on the wound and not be afraid of infection?"
Since then, the left hand ring finger joint, oblique scars, such as frozen young silkworms, first had a graceful demeanour at the age of ten. In return, I finally subscribed to my dream magazine with the money from selling rabbits.
"This is my magazine", vanity, writing a real face all over the sky. "magazines use my money", pride, overflowing with gentle chest. Holding 32 magazines in his hand, smelling the ink of the paper, he is novel and kind, excited and happy. Looking through, wonderful stories, exquisite cartoons, catchy poems, illustrated with pictures and texts. A magazine with knowledge, story and interest has opened a window for me to read. White paper and black characters, like lights in the night sky and colorful lines, weave a curtain lingering with words in the time and space of teenagers.
Ordinary days, the scars that once made me unbearable, can still be seen in the fleeting time, but they are as graceful as flowers, blooming like a companion, and every second is a good wish.
two
Time flies, and the years leave marks. The experience of youth, in the playback, grows slender vines, climbs, twists and turns, dances, and cannot erase the past.
On the left, near the chest and scapula, a two-centimeter-long white edge records the burning pain thirty years ago.
18-year-old Fanghua hides youth and romance, has the desire to fly, and has the ambition to own the whole world. However, the failure of the college entrance examination is full of ideals, such as a punctured balloon, and angels in white's dream, such as an iron anchor sinking into the water, which makes me lonely, depressed and bored.
Groggy all day, no greasy food, just a greasy state. When I was losing my self-esteem, it coincided with the season when spring flowers were in full bloom. A recruitment form lit the flame of my dream. Black braid, vigorous out of the vast world, high-spirited workers have the strength to fight.
The medical glass factory fills me with freshness. Although the wish to be a doctor has become a bubble, making medical glass bottles is similar to saving lives.
Newly recruited workers, such as Magnolia in spring, are full of passion. After a week's training, I was basically familiar with the performance of the machine, mastered the operation process and became familiar with the product standards.
The workshop of more than 300 square meters is a stage to display talents, with four wire drawing machines and four back sealing machines, which is a machine to show technology. Three shifts in the morning, noon and evening, eight hours of work each, were written down by young people in their twenties on average, and I promised you my youth.
Eighteen years old, wearing blue overalls, the most fragrant age in my life, blooming in front of the No.1 wire drawing machine. The ponytail of youth flashes in a series of processes, such as tube dragging, visual fire adjustment, product testing, cutting, back cover and so on. Piece rate is nearly 100 yuan per month, which is a reward for burning youth, a reward for mother, and a boast of changing the monitor.
In midsummer, the moon followed me into the workshop. The machine rumbled, the lights flashed, the glass slammed to the ground, and the heat wave rolled. Faced with a tall machine managed by one person, I picked up a glass tube 1.5 meters long and weighing more than 20 kilograms, stood on tiptoe and dragged it to the iron frame, working tirelessly like a weightlifter and scratching like a jointing bamboo.
Under the iron frame, twelve clusters of swaying flames reflected my eyes. Hundreds of degrees of fire, falling barbecue glass tubes, also barbecued my green face, the most beautiful years, and even barbecued my fingers to adjust the acetylene flame. With a whoosh, the gloves for debugging the fire were burnt, and with a poof, the thumb for twisting the flame was burnt. Burning flame, burning pipe, burning youth, burning fingers ...
Glass tubes heated at intervals, like festive lanterns, are flaming red, descending in order, being held down, stabilized and elongated by twelve small wheels. Holding bottles, stretching silk, bottles and silk, thick and thin, connected together, like twelve sugar-coated haws strung together at intervals, lying on the inclined iron plate. The bottle body with the right size and the bottleneck with the right thickness are neat, warm and bright, emitting the light after rebirth.
"Click, click", cut off equally, inject vials one by one, with delicate necks, waiting for the same body, crowded with palms. Carefully arranged, layered in iron boxes, clear inside and outside, clean and transparent. ...
The darkness before dawn and the roar of machines have become hypnotic tunes. The pace slowed down, his hands were dementia and his eyelids were heavy. In a trance, I heard the strange cry of "wheezing" and vaguely heard the cry of the monitor ... I opened my eyes and was surprised. The glass tube on the hob was born, and it became a red ball after being entangled with the tube heated by acetylene flame. I quickly picked up the iron bar and smashed it into the tangled and red-hot glass. The dog jumped into the wall and splashed everywhere. While I was unprepared, a piece of glass got in through the neckline. "Burst", like a small gun that was lit but didn't explode, burned the skin hot and low-paying jobs, untied the neckline and peeped. At the left chest, a thumb-like cannon, like goat's milk grapes, was wet, trembling and hostile, like a hidden dagger, obliquely stabbed into the rib fossa. ...
Endure the pain, but, can't help but cry. ...
In the gap of time, at the age of eighteen, I planted a centipede-like scar, which made me cry and swallow the pain. More than 30 years of kissing, has been in blowing in the wind. Now it is as graceful as a flower, leaving only a fascinating past, and it also blooms into a kind of vigilance that we must do things seriously and not have distractions.
three
The days are getting thicker and thicker in the rings of the years. Always like this, every voyage in the long river of life often has to pay a price. The bone of time, the painful scar, came again in the spring when I was thirty-one.
I was pleasantly surprised to learn from the rural normal school, but it was cold when I reported for duty. The pain stipulated in the "three prohibitions" (no teachers, no evaluation of professional titles, no housing) is inexplicably like being shackled on the head.
I was assigned to do the internal affairs of the academic affairs office. Unexpectedly, the decision announced in the morning was adjusted in the afternoon and was told to be responsible for the health of the whole school. "Health is the face of the school, which is related to the social image. Through understanding, you manage students well. " The top hat of the office leader was brushed and buckled on my head. In fact, for me who just arrived at the new unit, I have been removed from the podium, and I have become like a lost lamb. Whether it is housekeeping or hygiene, what can it do? Instead, I feel that I am driving to a normal school, just like being played with by someone. It turned out to be true afterwards. At that time, I had the loneliness of the bird's nest in the wind and the sadness of "the monks in the temple go first" No resentment. Why? Happy mood, with depressed scars, the pain in my heart spreads all over my body like lightning.
Mother's words, "Let the body suffer, not the face", came back to me. I have no choice but to assume the responsibility of "image designer" of the school.
All year round, the stars are all over the sky and the lights are blurred, presenting a clean and tidy campus before going to work at eight o'clock. Every morning at five o'clock, the sleeping son will be locked in the house. The cart went very fast, and it took 15 minutes to wake up the sleeping campus.
The clean sound of "brush, rustle and wipe" is the morning song of the campus. Weeding in spring, defoliation in Qiu Lai and snow in winter are a picture of the campus. Hard work, silent commitment, in exchange for a beautiful and fresh campus, but also in exchange for the lifting of the "three prohibitions", in exchange for the leadership's eyes. Indeed, suffering, forbearing, talking less and doing more are the best forging for people. Bright and beautiful will definitely dispel the haze, and only when the night is heavy will a better dawn be ushered in.
In March, the spring is chilly. It's very important to learn that a brother school has visited recently. Bite my teeth and endure a month's stomachache, and come to school as always. From dormitory to classroom, from toilet to environment. The system of class in different classes, responsibility to people, supervision and inspection, public appraisal and semester reward has achieved remarkable results. But I still feel uneasy. I feel that the paper thrown on the ground is a plaster on my face; Plastic bags dancing with the wind are a mockery of their incompetence; Falling in love on the ground is a questioning look of others ... I don't feel guilty if the reputation of the school is affected by hygiene? This kind of introspection drives me not to slack off. After eating Norfloxacin, I can look at the whole campus. However, pain is like winding a clockwork, which is tightened for a while. Black eyes, vomiting and diarrhea, were taken to the school hospital by students for infusion treatment of gastroenteritis
After returning home, the pain continued. All night, the sword stabbed the heart and all kinds of insects scratched it. Sitting, standing and kneeling all hurt ... "Mom, the paper crane puts you under the pillow, so you won't hurt." My four-year-old son's pure desire didn't relieve my anxiety at all. Looking forward to the sky, looking forward to seeing a doctor, the night is long, and finally it is dawn. ...
Angels in white, according to the examination, "the appendix is suppurated, and the operation is performed immediately", and the tone is decisive and unquestionable.
Operating table, shadowless lamp, knife and scissors ...
On the right abdomen, diagonally below, there is a three-centimeter-long cut, aggressive and frowning. Because the delay time is too long, the suppurated appendix is like a piece of paper soaked in water. It breaks when touched and cannot be stitched. It can only be drained through a hole ... "Ah! You are too thin, aren't you allowed to take time off? Or is the unit inseparable from you? " If the doctor is full of pity, I will have tears in my eyes ... It turns out that the unit can't keep me or anyone.
In this way, the right abdomen, earthworm-shaped, plum-blossom-shaped scar, with the trend of sitting, became the third mark on my growth path. The pain that once made me cold and the ferocious scar have now turned into graceful flowers and solidified into desolate images.
four
People and trees, how similar. It is not easy to survive, but it needs to grow more. At present, it is difficult to see a tree without scars. Who will enjoy a clear sky forever in the world of mortals? The pain in my heart and the scar on my body are the fruits of growing up. They used to be thin and cool, and they used to gouge out their hearts. However, time is the best medicine to heal wounds, and scars are the rebound of growth. Suffering and pain are not useless. Who is not surprised that the scar of caesarean section gave birth to great life?
Every time I touch the three scars left by life, the pain once became the nourishment of my life. The bones and muscles have been honed, and the will has been honed. The scars of three graceful flowers are engraved with scattered memories and opened up into unforgettable memories. It will also accompany me through thick and thin and accompany me through this life. Take the unknown road, create beautiful scenery, and create a beautiful dusk in peace.