Mom can't read or watch. Her time is "walking" on the poplar tree in front of the hospital. When the leaves turned yellow and bald, she knew it was time to go to the grave for her grandparents and uncles. Somehow, those fallen leaves are like letters they wrote to their mother. What does it say? Mother knows each other, quiet and clear, like a child.
Mom said grandma was still hugging and nursing when she died, and she couldn't pull it open! She is so young, of course she doesn't remember. My uncle told her. My uncle also told me. Pointing to the grave, he said, Call grandma and grandpa! Your mother grew up with her milk, and you grew up with your mother's milk. At that time, I was very ignorant and suddenly laughed. That grave is really like a breast, except that mom doesn't eat a bite of mud!
Big JIU also smiled: when people get old, they will fall, just like leaves, and return to their hometown and parents.
I frowned and asked my uncle, Grandpa and Grandma are not old, so why did they fall off like leaves?
Big JIU was shocked. It never occurred to him. For a long time, he sighed: Maybe parents need their parents more than we do?
I nodded and believed my uncle. In my eyes, he is a tree, strong, upright and indomitable. As I grew older, I realized that my uncle was not as strong as I thought. Grandparents died young, and his efforts were lonely, barely able to support his siblings. When my aunt, uncle and mother got married and started a family, he also overspent his time, missed his marriage and became homeless.
Take mom to visit her uncle's grave. Mother is old, and the flat cement road has made her stumble.
My second uncle is old, and his eyebrows are full of my uncle's shadow. He called out his grandson as tall as himself. They chatted, and I went to my uncle's house. When I was a child, I had a treasure chest with pigeons, cats and dogs, and a novel torn down by my mother. My uncle helped me collect it for many years. At present, there is no house, no trace of my uncle, and sweet potatoes, corn and beans are planted everywhere.
Uncle really went, and he went with peace of mind, like a fallen leaf. Here, he is redundant, and grandparents need him.
Big Uncle walked peacefully. The golden shroud, wrapped in a withered body, is as quiet as a fallen leaf.
A lifetime, a piece of soil. Big JIU's grave is next to his grandparents, and he finally returned to his parents. Relatives call him, but he won't come out; The pigeon whistle called him, but he didn't come out; The sun called him and he didn't come out; The moon called him, but he didn't come out ... maybe, someone called him in the soil, his uncle, parents, grandparents ... there, the big uncle is still young and still busy from morning till night ... ah! Even in another world, my uncle is still busy and has so many relatives to support.
My mother and my uncle have leg pains and can't walk far. I went to the grave alone. The road remains the same, but pedestrians are old.
The trees beside grandparents' graves are also old, counting the fallen leaves in the autumn wind. I remember that many years ago, my uncle took me to visit the grave. "For many years, many people couldn't say for sure. Leaves retain the customs and habits of their ancestors. Every late autumn, they will wear red or yellow clothes and then jump up ... and return to their oldest hometown. " I asked my grandparents, is uncle big over there? It's time to start a family for him. Don't always leave him alone.
There are leaves falling. "Mountain monks don't know the number of Jia Zi, and a leaf falls into the world." My mother is not a monk, but my uncle is the Buddha in her heart. I collected the fallen leaves one by one and took them to my mother. That's a letter from my uncle to my mother. I want her to read it to me.
□ Han Xing