I remember that around 1995, when I was still in primary school, too many memories were integrated into its blood. Every afternoon after school, or on Saturday and Sunday, a dozen children carry fishing nets and cans, which has a great momentum of catching fish. Speaking of fishing, it's a bit exaggerated. In the river more than two meters wide, it is difficult to find a long fish, full of fish as long as a little finger and black tadpoles. Going home at night, there are a few small fish jumping in my little friend's bottle. Besides these, there are countless tadpoles jumping around in my bottle. When I got home, I suddenly realized that all the small fish I caught were dull loaches, so it's no wonder that they are particularly easy to catch. Come to think of it, it's really funny. But every time we act, we are also frightened, because there is a guy named "Drill Worm" who is very powerful. Its two ends are pointed and its adsorption capacity is very strong. As long as it touches the skin, it can enter the body in an instant. I witnessed my partner's tragedy with my own eyes, and I still have a lingering fear.
After junior high school, there are very few opportunities. I only go to herd cattle on Saturday and Sunday afternoon. Every time I go to the river, I look at the rushing water and think about my partner, so I give up the idea of catching fish in the river. However, a new game is also very interesting, so we are committed to its study and research. There is a strong aquatic plant by the river, about one meter high, and dozens of plants can be tied up to drive away the bullwhip. We pulled them up one by one, removed the roots from the tail, cleaned them, used them to remove water, then wrapped them tightly with a slender grass, gently held them in our hands and threw them straight up. Later, a good friend fell into the river to pull up the longest grass, but was bitten by a water snake. At this point, we dare not try again! .
After graduating from technical secondary school, I was far away from my hometown and alienated from this river full of fun and terror. Sometimes I feel depressed and miss it silently. Later, I heard from a fellow villager at home that the river is getting shallower and narrower. The wide place is just a big step, and the narrowest place is less than 30 cm, which makes me feel uneasy gradually. It's heartbreaking to go home during the summer vacation and witness its face. In the past, the spacious riverbed has dried up, and huge bluestones are across the center; The river that flows now is only a few meters away from the original riverbed, surrounded by bunkers of all sizes. Not far away, several farmers waved their heads, danced with iron, and dug unscrupulously. On the road, they could meet walking tractors carrying wet sand and braving black smoke.
This unscientific, irregular and unreasonable indiscriminate mining and excavation has destroyed the balance between nature and our lives.
Until 2005, the river was cut off several times, and people living by water had to carry pots, pots, barrels and water tanks, and the whole family went out to get spring water in dozens of deep ditches. At the same time, the grassland area on both sides of the river is rapidly decreasing and desertification is becoming more and more serious. People along the river have no choice but to sell all their cattle and sheep, leaving behind loud bells, wide cow troughs and solid sheepfolds. This memory is sad, bitter and thought-provoking.
When I got married last year, it was clear when I got home that there was no snow in the long winter and the weather continued to be depressed. In the afternoon of 30, I came to the river and witnessed its beauty, but what I saw was even more sad; The riverbed has remained unchanged for decades. Instead of widening, it has become narrower and narrower, just like a bony old man lying there. There is not much garbage on the garbage platform behind the street. Most of the garbage is thrown outside the platform, and the garbage outside the platform actually extends into the river. At this time, the river has frozen, and all kinds of plastic packaging bags, instant noodle buckets, disposable chopsticks, lunch boxes, as well as broken socks, rotten gloves and old underwear are frozen in the ice, giving off a bad smell. There is an ice hole in front, and a middle-aged woman in cotton-padded clothes is washing the mop again. The sound of running water that used to be "rushing" has now disappeared, replaced by a weaker and thinner sound. What I am worried about is: when I go home in a few decades, I am afraid it will be quiet!
From generation to generation, rivers are also evolving; I hope these sad memories can deeply shake the hearts of everyone in my hometown.