It seems that I haven't seen my letter to you for a long time.
In fact, letters are often written, but stationery is no longer used, and it's over when you finish writing. I may have forgotten it just after writing it, unlike writing it on stationery, which takes a long walk-I bought stamps at the post office, put them in the corner of the envelope, and then waited quietly for three days or a week, or more. And I will save your reply in a formal way, and read it more than once over the years. ...
One day, the school teacher showed us a newspaper and read the article. He also said that anything that can be written is the same as that in the newspaper, and he will take it out and read it, and he will have to pay for it.
I secretly wrote an article, copied it carefully according to the address in the newspaper, read it ten times, affixed an octagonal stamp and quietly put it in the mailbox of the reception room. Then, go to the window sill of the reception room to see if there will be any reply.
Every other day, the postman comes. At first, he rode a flying pigeon foreign car with a grass-green package on its beam. The parcel was bulging, revealing the corners of the mail and newspaper to be delivered. There are registered ones. The postman found the person who wanted to register until he finished stamping. Later, the postman rode an electric donkey and tooted into the campus, causing the whole class to look back. The teacher knocked on the blackboard while attending class.
There is no reply to my letter, and I am still waiting day after day.
In late autumn, the leaves are almost the same. The remaining pieces are yellow, hanging high on the branches, making a sudden sound in the wind. Those leaves, I don't know how long they will grow, shivering in an autumn rain and a cold.
The wheat seedlings in the field were blackened and blue by frost. The hillside is covered with weeds and yellow.
There are clusters of maple trees growing in the gap of the cliff, firmly facing the sky, and the crimson leaves are facing the colder and colder season.
A flock of geese flew in.
The geese are very long. Under the leadership of the head geese, the team is very neat and blue as a curtain across the sky. In the sky, sometimes there are one or two cotton-wool-like white clouds floating leisurely in the air. Sometimes there are no clouds, only the sun is in the blue sky. Hearing the sound of the wild goose, the children herded the cattle away from the branches, covered the gazebo with their hands for a while, then put their hands into corners, put them on their mouths, and shouted to the sky: Wild goose, wild goose, rest your feet, lay eggs and become a shuttle head. ...
Goose may or may not hear, or may not understand. However, the flying geese really changed their shape and arranged in a new way, more and more like the spindle head of a cow, being led by a directional horn to fly south-
Taking advantage of the humidity in the morning, the sweet potato seedlings all over the mountain were cut off by early risers and dried on the weir to be used as feed for livestock in winter.
Sweet potatoes are dug up by rows of raised heads, picked up in piles, transported to sunny hillsides or cut into pieces with a straw cutter on the ground edge. If the weather is fine, it will dry in three days, and then pick it up one by one, take it home and put away the rations that have been used for a long time.
In the busy autumn, the school will have a few days off. Children can't do heavy work, so they go to herd cattle or dry sweet potatoes. Adults always have a way to make every child work faster. Adults use dustpans to catch fresh sweet potato slices, hold them thinly on the hillside, and give each of the two brothers a slice to see who can put them away fastest. At this time, I often put a few big characters on the hillside with pieces of dried sweet potatoes, and I will quietly post the name of the girl I like, and then quickly fill it in the horizontal and vertical spaces to prevent adults from finding it.
Every autumn, adults' hands are often cut by hay cutters or a piece of meat is cut off. I sometimes dig sweet potatoes while adults are resting, and often my hand will be cut immediately by the sharp blade of the hay cutter, bleeding profusely. "Serves you right, you should do it!" -adults not only do not comfort, but will give you a hard shoulder. You can only hold white lime and press it on the wound, and wrap a piece of cloth around your finger for a long time to make the wound heal. Later, I left a thin scar on my finger. I know that a pair of hands that love labor are often not so perfect.
The sky is clear, and from a distance, every village is covered with dried sweet potatoes, and the land in late autumn is turned into a large white.
School starts again. Has the letter I sent arrived?
The teacher who likes reading newspapers in class suddenly asked my classmates to call me out and handed me a brown paper envelope with a triangular postmark, unlike ordinary round stamps, which was still bulging.
There was a newspaper in it, and I found my article in a corner. There is also a money order for two yuan in the newspaper.
I went to the post office to withdraw money, and the post office staff asked me to stamp it. I said no, but she wouldn't give it. Then I suddenly remembered that his father and my father were classmates. His father went to my house to play. I met him and said that he had a daughter in this post office. I said timidly, I know you, and your father has been to my house. She's curious. She gave me a look, handed out the stamp pad and said that you pressed your fingerprints.
I used the money I earned to find someone to carve my own hand stamp Later, I went to the post office to get something. After I received the receipt, I solemnly stamped my own seal. So sacred ...
Wild geese are flying in the sky.
At this time, I want to write a letter to take to the geese and put it where the geese stay. I want to know why you have come so far, and what are you going to do in a far place? Don't you know that one day you won't come back? You never care about my concern?
There is only one old earth wall at home, facing the sun. There is an old man leaning against the wall, squinting and taking a nap.
Occasionally the north wind blows. Sometimes, the wind picks up the dead leaves on the ground and runs along the road.
When the geese crossed the sky, I looked up at the geese flying farther and farther.
The sky is a wild goose. Under the sky, the sun dragged the shadow for a long time. I don't know if the place you are going to has an earth wall to keep out the wind and whether it is warm towards the sun. Do you occasionally recall the scene of that year? In the aftertaste of the past, sometimes you sigh lightly, and sometimes you grieve silently.
A person's life is like a wild goose migrating in the late autumn sky, heading for the future, maybe coming back, maybe not coming back.
In the search, I spent so much time and traveled so many places, but fortunately, no matter whether I went to the south or went back to the north, I still wrote letters and sent them to distant places where geese traveled year after year.