I left my hometown when I was eighteen.
Before that, when I was three years old, my father took me to my aunt's house in Wuhan. In my vague impression, it was a rainy day, the water was boundless, the river wind was wet, and the turbulent river was at my feet, and the waves were rough. I stood on the deck of the Yangtze River, holding the rusty railings, perhaps because the scene was too vast and powerful to remember clearly, so I had some vague impressions, but I couldn't remember others. So, in a sense, that place may just be what I have been to in my dream, drifting with the flow. So it can also be said that before I was eighteen, it was not an exaggeration to say that I had never been out of the county. The distance is full of mystery to me.
Far from home, I feel grown up for the first time. The reason why I chose to leave is to escape it and want to leave it forever. My father once said, "Man, you can endure anything except poverty." . The poverty in my hometown has left a deep imprint on my bones. In my opinion, a poor hometown will never be changed.
As far as I can remember, the poverty in my hometown began with my parents, and what happened before is unknown. My father has three brothers, one younger brother and two older sisters. The eldest brother and the youngest brother are twenty years apart. My grandfather died in a difficult world before he was 50 years old, leaving a burden on my grandmother. As a family with poor financial resources, we can generally imagine how difficult it is to live in such a big family after his death. According to my father, my grandmother is wrapped in little feet, and she can't be idle inside and outside. The family lives only by burning wood and weaving. Until my two aunts got married, the family was still a big family. When my father got married, my grandmother also felt that it was time to split up. Even the house was not enough, so she left it regardless. However, the rural customs in Sri Lanka, since separated, should of course be relatively fair to their children. Although the property is insignificant, every family has to pay something. However, the awareness of small farmers in rural areas has long been deeply rooted in the hearts of several uncles. The brothers fought for the ownership of just a few shabby tables and chairs, and almost turned against each other. Although my father is an old four, he has a steady personality since he was a child because he has been in school for several years. Besides, he is young and warm-blooded. Seeing his brothers gearing up, he voluntarily withdrew from the distribution of family property and started a business with his new wife, my mother. They moved to the small warehouse of the production team and lived there for three years. I don't know if I was born there, my parents never mentioned it, and I never asked, but according to the time, it can't be wrong.
There is no doubt that my father is strong. I have never seen him pull a long face since I can remember. Day after day, year after year, I went out early and returned late every day, bleeding and sweating, but always talking and laughing, as if I never knew my tiredness and difficulties. I remember when I was in junior high school, I went home on Sunday to help my mother work in the fields all day. When I got home, my mother walked out of the kitchen. I sat in a chair and my bones were scattered. I can't help sighing. My father happened to be sitting at the table reading a book. When he heard this, he looked up and suddenly said, what is that man sighing about? I was stunned by his words, and I will never forget them. Every day when mom goes out to work, the three of us are left alone. My grandmother took my nine uncles and brothers and six uncles and sisters, and she couldn't take care of them at all. We grew up almost in a natural state, which is called willow growth (wild growth). One summer, my mother went to work, and my father and several uncles went to the mountain behind the village to pull stones. When pulling a cart of stones through our village, he set up a scooter and was about to go home and drink some water. From a distance, I saw a small hand in the middle of the pond in front of the village, and I couldn't even see a shadow for a while. My father has no time to think about anything. He rushed over and jumped into the pond. When he fished it out, it turned out to be my sister.
The rainy season in the south is quite long. As long as I can remember, my parents have had their own home. Those are three thatched adobe houses that they exchanged with sweat and blood. I remember that in the long years before I left my hometown, every rainy season, I was harassed by a lasting nightmare. In the wind and rain, the wall of the thatched cottage on the edge of the village cracked a deep gap and tilted, with lightning and thunder outside and the house crumbling. It's raining cats and dogs outside, it's raining cats and dogs The wall screamed, and a burst of thunder followed by a burst of thunder. The soil on the wall "swished" and fell on the mosquito net, on the worn desk and chair, and on the stove, a flash of lightning.
In my young soul, of course I don't understand, let alone investigate the root of poverty. My parents are hardworking, but they are still poor. Our family is like this, and so are other families in the village. The ancestors have a good foundation and few children, which is relatively better. I remember that at that time, the villagers liked to eat and chat at the entrance of Laofeng Village with big bowls. On one occasion, our neighbor, Uncle Peng, laughed at our poverty by innuendo. Generally speaking, you can still live in your house, just like a kennel. My mother calmly replied: What do you rely on? Uncle Peng was speechless at once, and later he dared not say anything. The reason is actually very simple. He is the only son in the family, and his house is a legacy set by his ancestors. Now that I think about it, it is understandable that my father and brothers almost fought over some tables, chairs and benches. It is the so-called ambition.
I began to remember when I was four years old, and silence was more than expression. At that time, my mother used to eat rice crust with rice soup at the bottom. My brother and sister told her to eat rice. She said she liked the taste of crispy rice. In fact, as a boss, I know that it is because rice is simply enough to eat, so I don't eat much every time I eat, saying that I can't eat, and I like to drink crispy rice soup. People say that the children of poor families are in charge early, and I wonder if it makes sense. I think in my memory, my silence contains the helplessness of poverty in my hometown and my yearning for a happy life. Nine times out of ten a village is poor. Poverty in my hometown is the fundamental reason why I left my hometown. To tell the truth, it is a lie to find a dream.
However, my poor hometown is not without good memories in my life. The simplicity and kindness of hometown folks; Beautiful and sensible next-door sister who grew up together in her hometown; Spring in my hometown, birds and flowers in the forest; The clarity of the river flowing under the green hills in my hometown; The hometown peach blossoms are full of slopes in March; The calmness of cooking smoke rising in the morning and evening in my hometown; The moonlight in my hometown is as cool as water. ...
When I really put on my military uniform and was ready to leave, I knew that it was not as easy as I thought to say goodbye to my hometown. My family got together and my uncles came to see me off. I was silent for a long time to let them know about the world, but I didn't say much. Yes, how can they understand me? At the same time, I asked my father why he was noncommittal about my joining the army. My father said that he was neither for nor against it. I asked why, and he told me that the reason was actually very simple. I didn't support him because I was afraid that I would return to the countryside after a few years as a soldier and would blame him for not stopping me from being a father. I have no objection because if the young people in the same village who joined the army with me leave the countryside because they are soldiers now, I will blame him for not letting me join the army in the future. Besides, my dad says you're an adult. Adults can make up their own minds about everything, and parents can't support you for life. Facts have proved that my father's words are right. In the later military career, I regarded myself as an adult, started my own independent life, and came step by step with these advice in the most difficult time.
After a sleepless night, my father sent me to the armed forces department in the town in the morning, but my mother didn't come. I won't let her see me off because of the rugged mountain road of nearly ten miles. We stayed in the armed forces department of the town until 10 noon. Under the command of platoon leader Zhao, we boarded the sedan chair and walked south along the long sand road. The mountains are rolling and drifting away. The bus arrived at my grandmother's village, and several recruits came up. I sat in the back seat of the car and saw my mother in the farewell crowd. She took a shortcut and waited here for a long time. She saw me too, so I turned my head and waved to her. She pushed me. I opened the window and listened to what she said, but I didn't remember what she said at all. Is to tell me to learn to take care of myself when I join the army. When I saw my mother talking, I said, mom, stop it. I see. She stopped. The car started, and when I came back, I saw the tears on the young mother's face in the dust raised by the big sedan chair.
An hour later, the bus arrived at another town in this county, where soldiers from Beijing and Qingdao gathered. I didn't start boarding until afternoon. When the car started again, it was dusk. At the beginning, I saw my hometown getting farther and farther away from me, and I really realized that I was alone, how lonely I was when I left home, how bleak my future was, and what the future would be like. I know nothing about it. Looking back at the early spring dusk at that moment, I saw the decadent houses outside the window like the endless ancient and deserted countryside in the historical film, and the cold and silence of winter remained in the dusk. Spring hasn't come yet, and all the vegetation shows no signs of life. Along the way, the thatch crawled to the ground, and the heavy lead color pulled people's hearts. There are few pedestrians on the road, and they are all in a hurry. The distant sun fell to the foot of the mountain in an instant, just like being swallowed up by the sea. The whole scene presents a huge smell of death, and the fields are gray and have no bright colors. I was relieved. I said, I'm never coming back.
On a winter evening near the Spring Festival, I set foot on my hometown again, which was three years later. After three years of military service, when I set foot on this land again, I realized that although my hometown was poor, it was the place where I was born and raised. There are joys and sorrows in childhood. I love my parents. Its place in my heart cannot be erased. It has been deeply rooted in my bones like a nail and connected with my blood. Yes, for three years, more than a thousand days and nights, the west wind is drifting away. When a person walks on the journey, flowers bloom and flowers fall, and at the end of the year, how can he not arouse the homesickness of the wanderer?
I embarked on my way home with great excitement. This emotion comes from two reasons. One is that I have been away from my hometown for a long time, looking forward to it day and night, and I will go home soon. The other is that for my parents, I have an explanation for these three years, because I was in the military academy. But on the train, that's not what I think most. I have been thinking all the way, is my hometown still like that after three years?
I got off the train from Wuhan and changed to a crowded bus. Although I was crushed all the way, I didn't feel sleepy. "Now, close to my village and meet people", predecessors have experienced their feelings when they returned to China, and that moment is also my feeling. But at the same time, I returned to my hometown step by step with good expectations. The vast green hills stretch like the sea in the sunset, and familiar scenes pass by one by one. Gradually, it's near, and it's near again. I saw my hometown, rhinoceros mountain, the highest peak behind the village, and the Millennium maple tree at the head of the village that can be seen ten miles away. My hometown has been so quiet in the depths of the sunset, and I have never made a sound after the storm. Just like a small shell in the corner of the sea, I have been silent in the depths of the sea and have been content with my fate for a long time. Yes, I saw my hometown. After three years of wind and rain, nothing has changed. The scene I saw seems to be the same as when I left. I leave at dusk and come back at dusk. Pedestrians in the countryside and mountains are so familiar and unfamiliar with the sunset. Is this my expected hometown? When I got off the bus and walked in the cold wind, I felt a thrill of fear. The wind of the twelfth lunar month in my hometown blew over, hitting my face and getting into my clothes. It was freezing cold.
I carried my backpack and crossed the path of nearly three miles. I saw our home in the distance. Yes, I did. I saw my mother leaning against the door, my father looking around at the door, my brother and sister flying in front of me like swallows, jumping up for joy and helping me with my luggage.
My mother has been standing at the gate of the station. It seems to be a statue. She kept watching me approach. In the dim twilight, I saw my mother's white hair fluttering in the winter evening wind, and I saw tears shining in her eyes.