Probably no one in the world can remember the day when he was born and what kind of face the world greeted him with. But although I left Shimao after the full moon and never went back, the scene of that day remained intact in my memory, and it became more detailed every year.
In a small fishing village along the coast, snails blew a cool morning mist. Dad has gone on a business trip. The temporary rented house is damp and empty, except for the rough stone windows that shine through several lines, and the open door. In front of the door are several steps covered with moss, which are connected with the road.
You can see several pairs of big feet wearing clogs stomping on them, their toes spreading wildly, and the wide brown trouser legs smell of fish. Big baskets with fishtails are swinging on the stone street, full of shiny fish scales.
The sun is getting hotter and hotter, and Shitiao Street is like a flowing river of fire. The fisherman, who was invited to help temporarily, leaned against the door frame and was attacked by the fatigue at noon, and gradually dozed off.
Enjoy a candle on the huge round table.
Mother's bed is in the deepest part of the big house, hung with mosquito nets, like a boat with lost sails, moored at the desolate seaside, and the sound of the waves is high and low.
Living alone in a foreign land, living a restless little life. Her dreamy and melancholy temperament is enough to make her realize the loneliness and mystery of the situation during the labor pains. Maybe she remembered grandma's clean bedroom. The wind bored the forgotten music on the piano, and the bell measured the silence again and again. There are many stories about fox spirits and ghosts in Strange Tales from a Lonely Studio by my pillow. Among the girls she teaches, she often scares the squeaky girls with these stories, but most of them scare themselves first.
Suddenly there was a gust of wind, which was cool (my mother always stressed that she was not asleep), and the candle was low. A black shadow ran into my mother's arms through the mosquito net. Mother was frightened and suddenly lifted the mosquito net, only to see the fisherman sleeping against the door frame, and a black cat rubbed her thick barefoot into the street. The candle is almost burnt out, and the small flame is like a small flag, fluttering, spreading and falling. ...
I was born that afternoon. Who knows what my mother saw that day, but I was nicknamed "elf" from now on.
After the full moon, the owner of Satin Village returned to the metropolis with his third daughter and granddaughter.
My father, who often writes some crooked poems in the local tabloids, is holding his "elf" with dark curly hair and fair skin and shouting in the garden corridor: "Goddess, my goddess." Although the goddess later became ugly, my father's love for me increased, and the reason was also because of my "elf"
Related. Walking in the street, picking ditches and railings, climbing trees, fishing with boys, and stealing mouths and hanging on longan trees all have my share. Especially after our family suffered in the political situation, my mother always discussed with me when she encountered difficulties. When she is happy or unhappy, she either praises me or scolds me, and often says "elf ghost". One day, I'm going to fill out my resume. My mother told me that my native place should be Quanzhou. What? I was born in Shimao! My father and I have been to Quanzhou and don't like it at all. Quanzhou is an alley with no end in sight. Some people say they are relatives and have never met each other. My only interest is my grandparents' new house, but it has been renovated by my nameless relatives for generations, and Teresa Teng is leading the new trend there. How bleak it is to be born in Quanzhou.
In my shima town, there is generous and warm sunshine during the day, which exists in the cracks and flows on the beach, and it will ferment into a thick bouquet at night. The cold moon bud is like a sharp sickle, harvesting clusters of waves, and the waves giggle and entangle the pale stone steps. There is a small fishing boat moored by the dock. Through the canopy, there is a red light. You can see the bronze back guarding a nest of sweet dreams, in which the fisherman's children writhed like black eels. Ah, salty dreams are closely related to the sea.
Let my hometown column hide my fishing hometown. Fill in the local accent today, and fill in a southern song tomorrow. In my own love, I suck the memory of my parents and enrich the hot land of my birth.
Many years later, I met many stone code people in some markets. They warmly invited me to play and told me that there was no slate street anymore, and it had become asphalt road. The old castle-like house is gone, and even the fish are missing. Now the main economy in the town is the factory.
Finally, one day, I studied a 60-point boat ticket for a long time. Sixty cents, so simple, can a small country ship with a sudden smell of gasoline take people through 32 years of homesickness and reach the harbor of dreams?
In thirty-two years, people and things in the town have also grown and withered in my mind. I often think that the big hand of the cattail leaf fan who slapped my ass so cruelly must be resting on my knee like an old bark now. Will any children be willing to listen to him talk about old rotten sesame seeds? More than 30 years ago, a tearful "gentleman and mother" raised a crying elf here ... Is the knocking of bowls and spoons on the corner still rhythmically tempting pedestrians to go home at night? But the fish ball soup seller is definitely not the old man who likes to cough twice, but his son or grandson. Although I am familiar with the taste of pepper and chopped green onion since I was born.
As soon as my hand was released, the green ticket shrugged and floated away with the waves. ...
There are countless ghost rumors about replacing my old house with a new apartment building; Let fishermen's comprehensive enterprise companies hatch a group of young girls with colorful feathers; Let the feet wearing clogs put on three leather shoes, and let georgette and red tie float in the street; Let all children be born in such a warm, bright and high-speed modern city! Only in my feelings, there is always an open door, like a simple picture frame, embedded with the sunshine of that day, the noisy slate street, and a 32-year-old "fairy".
1984 1 1 month