1.
This is a lonely path, which has been lying there for many years. It is not only the only way for me to go home, but also the only way for me to go home.
In my impression, it is lonely, lonely, because there are no friends around. It is not like a forest path, covered by trees and sung by birds; Unlike the roadside path, listening to the tinkling of the stream and the lively concert of frogs. However, it has only one person, lonely and silent, with houses on both sides. Without the shelter of trees and the singing of birds, I just live a boring life silently. However, in its eyes, every day's life is full. It doesn't envy forest paths or river paths. On the contrary, it thinks their lives are ordinary.
Every day, its happiest moment belongs to people. Every morning, many people who go to work and school will pass by it, and it will guide people to a safe place.
When I was a child, every time I came home from school, I always loved to step on it barefoot and feel the intimacy it brought me.
For many years, the path has been quietly dedicated to all this, and people gradually regard it as a confidant. However, all this has changed with the progress of reform and opening up.
Now, that path has long since disappeared, and it has been replaced by a wide road. Trucks come and go on the road, people come and go, and there is a lively scene.
The silence I yearned for has left with the departure of the path. In my dream, I was silent and cried, because my former friend, Xiao Lu, had left.
The path in my hometown-where are you?
2.
A familiar song floated into my ears, so kind that it pulled me back to the country road in my memory. . .
There are all kinds of weeds on both sides of the path, and sometimes there will be a little red in the lush, which will easily stimulate your visual nerve and you can't help but want to take a closer look. Watching it keep smiling and playing in this lush, the hand that just wanted to pick suddenly stopped in the air, looked at it quietly, and then quietly left.
Following the squeaking sound all the way, those cunning little things jumped up and down in the grass from time to time, followed their shadows and pushed through the grass to find it, but it had already slipped out of the grass. Sometimes I hate to itch: "damn cricket, I can't catch you!" " According to the grass, I smoked with a stick, and then stopped to listen carefully, but the crying came from the other direction.
Especially in the midsummer night, walking on the path full of flowers and natural aura, feeling the cool evening breeze caressing my face, my heart seems to have injected countless poems invisibly. When I was squinting and intoxicated in the artistic conception at the moment, I was suddenly moved by the flashing scene in the distance. Oh, it's an elf with a small lantern! Don't hesitate to follow them. When they are unprepared, gently close your hands, and one or two fireflies will hide in my hand. Then put your hands together and look between your fingers. The faint light suddenly becomes so powerful. Sometimes, I don't forget to take a few home and put those elves in mosquito nets, so at night when the lights are turned off and the world is silent, I look at the flickering lights in my tent and sleep peacefully and comfortably. . .
Early in the morning, before the sun rose, I ran to the path early to collect a string of dew on the flowers and plants. When the sun opens its sleepy eyes, the sun shines on the dew, reflecting an attractive light. The sun is more and more energetic, sucking up the dew on the flowers and plants, leaving only faint dust traces, indicating the crystals that once existed. At this time, my clothes wet by dew were also dried by the sun, patting the dust on my hands, and it was time to go home for dinner!
. . . . . .
The country road recorded my growing up. How many tears and laughter floated on the road of memory with the wind, and the dew dipped in the night became the nutrition for my growth.
However, now this feeling can only be realized by singing.
Away from the country life, I am busy in the metropolis all day for a living. Occasionally, when I am frustrated and lonely, I really want to find such a path to filter my bitter thoughts. It's a pity that there is endless noise around me. And the path I remember, now because of development, is a national road paved with black asphalt.
So, I wandered in the noisy and crowded streets, and finally returned to my house, plugged in headphones, and walked back to the familiar country road with the music. . . . . .
3.
On the path in my hometown.
Near, near, near, my hometown, the path of my long-lost hometown. Left the bustling city, waved away the noise, and finally set foot on the path of my hometown when flowers were in full bloom, butterflies were flying, bees were singing and spring was full. The beauty of my hometown remains the same. Continuous cottages, bamboo forests, smoke from kitchen chimneys, crisp and melodious dog barks, birdsong, and rickety pool washing and bamboo jumping constitute a beautiful idyllic picture scroll and a wonderful life melody, and the elegant demeanor of the hometown path remains the same. Every road has its own destination, either a farmhouse, a frontier field, an orchard or a gurgling stream. ...
The road is at your feet, but your thoughts are very far away. In that crowded downtown, whenever people dream of their lonely pillows in the dead of night, I think of the path in my hometown. At that moment, the thoughts engraved in my heart flashed out. Yes, the path is like a page of paper, recording the ups and downs of my struggle with my grandparents, neighbors, family and hometown. The path in my hometown is full of the joy of childhood, soaked with the sweat of teenagers, and evaporated my ambition and expectation for life.
The path in my hometown is tortuous and wonderful, as confusing as a dream, and as full of yearning as the starry moon. The beauty of the path is because people trample on it. Road, like other things, yearns for it all the time, waiting for the nourishment of man and nature. Hometown Road is charming all year round, but I like the scenery of Hometown Road in spring and summer best.
When the highest branch of the pear orchard revealed that green brought the message of spring, the trees on the roadside in my hometown began to flourish and colorful stamens began to bloom. At this time, the endless path seems to open cheering arms to you. In summer, the path is covered with thick green flannel, as well as the vigorous grass stalks and vines. Dandelions, dotted with fluffy flowers, stumble up and down, bloom wildly, and cicadas and frogs sing and sing heartily, playing drums and chords tirelessly, one after another. In this festival, the path shows you a careless and tired face.
The path in my hometown is narrow and rugged, not as broad and heroic as the urban road, but I deeply love its mysterious twists and turns. I have followed its twists and turns, out of the arms of my parents and out of my hometown. However, I didn't go far. I touch my face every day, winding and clear like a river in my hometown path; Take a hometown road every day and smell the hot land; Every day, I cry for the road in my hometown-every day, every day. ...