I've been out of that place for nine years, and I've tried my best not to think about it, trying to forget it completely from the depths of my bones. With the passage of time and the pace of social progress, as well as the impetuousness of living in the city for a long time, I keep thinking about it, especially the bridge sandwiched between the east village and the west village, which is like suffering from illness, tormenting my heart, liver and lungs. Thought and soul keep me restless every night.
It's an ordinary bridge, made of stone piers and cement. It protects the lives of several groups of people attached to it. It is a blood that runs through people's bodies and minds and gathers all the daily life of those villages. Many times, I want to sing my feelings in a poetic way, whether it's joy or sorrow, or love or hate, or true or vague, and I want to describe the whole life course of the whole village in prose format, all of them. No matter poetry or prose, I can only think about it. My heart is always fluctuating and my pen is sealed. Afraid of causing pain, and second, afraid of my lack of literary talent, I stopped writing halfway. So hold, hold and hold, hold and hold, until today.
When I got up in the morning, I suddenly burst out with nameless ripples of tears, which spread towards the heart lake. Then, people, things and the bridge loomed like smoke, as if the years and villages on both sides of the stone bridge had become the palms of relatives, stroking my face, affecting my thoughts, kneading my restless mind, tangled thoughts and wandering frustration and disappointment. That's all, homesickness is getting stronger and stronger, and it is moving to the depths of the soul and occupying all parts of the heart.
I couldn't help but pick up the pen and write down the title of a paragraph: "Remembering that bridge".
As early as 18 years ago, in the spring, it was the day when spring was blooming and sowing and fertilizing. I was welcomed into the village as a bride. They visited me with envy and jealousy, the new owner, testing whether I can take root, grow, blossom and bear fruit there. They inherit rural etiquette and customs in the oldest way in society. Washing clothes, cooking, giving birth to children, serving men, honoring in-laws and being kind to uncles have become all the duties and compulsory homework of a new wife. At that time, I was cautious and cautious, careful and careful, patiently and patiently doing everything, constraining my every move and avoiding my every language. Just like other daughter-in-law, I call my in-laws' parents' louder than my parents. I must cook a good meal every day, bring it to their hands with my hands, and serve them like a guest, whether I like it or not, whether I am satisfied or not, and never say a word or complain. I don't want them to dislike me, and I don't want them to make irresponsible remarks. I just want to experience life with my diligent body and unique lifestyle, with the utmost patience-who let me be a woman with a married background and bring a daughter who doesn't belong to that village at all.
I have been running on the bridge almost every day for more than ten years since then. From Qiaodong to Qiaoxi, from Qiaoxi to Qiaodong, day after day, year after year, spring, summer, autumn and winter, the sun and the moon cycle. A woman, no matter how many grievances and hardships you have suffered or how gorgeous and comfortable you used to live in, if you marry a man, the man who is destined to have children with him in the same boat, no matter how uncomfortable you are with this man and how unhappy you are with his bad life, as long as you can live, time will influence you and life will train you, and you will gradually forget the past.
My family lives in the east of the bridge, which is surrounded by trees. At noon in midsummer, grandpa, grandma, three aunts, aunt Ada and sister-in-law in the village invariably come to the bridge just like a meeting, enjoying the cool while enjoying the cool. Parents in the east and the west are always having fun, playing cards and drinking a little wine to cheer up their tired mood. Some men flirt with women in a cheeky way, touching their huge buttocks and breasts, and some very coquettish women seduce men and say some disgusting love words that don't turn red and don't jump. Everyone smiles in their eyes. Those screams want to lift the roofs of adobe houses on both sides.
that's the happiest club after real fatigue! It not only affects the life and feelings of Qiaodong and Qiaoxi villages, but also exerts a subtle influence on rural customs and secularism.
If anyone marries a new wife, those experienced mothers-in-law will start to spread their ideas with their fingers and fingers, telling them how to be good mothers-in-law. How to be a good daughter-in-law, how to let the new daughter-in-law work in the fields, how to have children and serve her husband, these are all very good.
It is also a good place to solve and create contradictions. If someone's daughter-in-law and mother-in-law have a full quarrel, everyone will come forward to solve the problem. I often do things to appease my mother-in-law and train her daughter-in-law. In their eyes, a daughter-in-law will always be a daughter-in-law, and the bowl of her husband's family is under the control of her husband's family. It is only natural to listen to her in-laws. If you don't learn to make your mother-in-law happy, you won't be a good daughter-in-law, and of course you will be unfilial. Even if there is a mistake, it is the fault of the daughter-in-law, not the old man. Where, it is difficult to hone from a new daughter-in-law to an old one.
In other words, that bridge is also the only communication center for the villagers. People don't stay at home to talk about things in the village and things outside the village, but they also go to the bridge to do it and share it with everyone. As long as someone hears something new in the village and society, as long as no one in the village has heard it, they will listen to it with compliments like listening to myths and legends, and they will be particularly devoted and devoted. On the contrary, the speaker is a high-ranking lecturer, and the villagers are their loyal listeners. This is not the time for the village head to exercise his power. At this time, the villagers are free, open-minded, high-spirited and sweet. In addition, if anyone gets a novel and convenient method and skill in the heavy farm work, as long as he says it, the villagers will be curious, understand and benefit as Columbus discovered the new continent. I'm sure I'll be like a vagrant beggar, begging for food samples that I'm satisfied with, and then using them in my own production, practicing, practicing, applying and applying. Of course, it is nothing more than failure.
in order to make a living, village east and village west are in line. The east village cannot be separated from the west village, and the west village cannot be separated from the east village. People in the west village must fetch water and drink donkeys from the wells in the east village. People in the east village must work on the ground in the west village, herd sheep and borrow things. East Village, West Village, East Bridge and West Bridge, like this, year after year, playing the ancient music of the countryside.
The endless life, marrying every bride and daughter-in-law, giving birth to one young child after another, and escorting one old man after another to cross the crane and leave the west.
Life is like a trickle of water under a bridge, and the bridge silently guards the villages on both sides. The first cow, the first donkey, the only sheep and the individual each show their own state, play their own roles and shine with the brilliance of their own lives.
writing here, I completely forgot the past grievances and sorrows, and suddenly my heart was full of warm breath. I suddenly vividly remembered every old man and every child on the bridge, and their words clearly appeared before my eyes. I wonder if it was love? Is it hate? My mind is occupied by those faint and astringent thoughts, and is troubled by those trivial things in the past-there is my life, my love and my true feelings.
the bridge! My unforgettable bridge, you are the harbor where I once took refuge, feeding my life with your sincerity, shaping my beautiful image with your endless affection, and giving me a halo of love for mankind.
Today, my husband still passes by the bridge every day, from east village to west village and from west village to east village, walking the course of her life. Writing the music of his life, as his beloved wife, why can't I let go of the entanglement in my heart and love him and the place that gave him life? !
the bridge! From then on, you are no longer my sad past, but the destination of my life and love. I will live because of you, love you deeply, and love you and human society!