The River of Hometown —— Prose Appreciation

As people get older, they become lazy. When they are calm, they are always willing to recall the past, especially when they encounter ups and downs in life and politics. Recalling the past and savoring life may be a kind of sustenance for the soul. Recently! Whenever the dead of night, I always have insomnia, and the past is vivid. Recalling the 36 years that have passed in my life is like a fleeting moment. Endless vicissitudes will be imprisoned in my heart, full of desolation, and I can't help but think of my carefree childhood and the river in my hometown. Although this river has long been a broken shadow in my memory due to the construction of Xiaolangdi Reservoir, in my dream, the laughter and the gurgling water are always lingering.

My hometown, Chenwan Village, Cangtou Township, is a small mountain village with beautiful scenery and outstanding people. Between the two green hills, a winding river bypasses the village head, and the river flows along the stream. Spring has gone and spring has come, and the grass on both sides of the stream is green and the mountain flowers are brilliant. Cattle and sheep are eating aquatic plants, swinging their tails happily, and adults are washing clothes by the river. This is naturally a good place for our game, which is aroused by unrestrained pursuit and water war. Perhaps the child's smile is superficial, but this superficiality is happiness. Because it means no care and no load, the stream is clearest when it passes through the valley. Green river grass and a few falling willow leaves add a little color, which is a simple pleasure for yourself.

On ordinary days, the river always follows the rules, according to the scope delineated by the embankment, killing its will in the process of progress. Lazy lying on the river bed, letting the terrain flow and taking himself far away, only in the rainy season will he lose his purity and cleanliness, show his inner passion, roar, roll up too much pain and sorrow, and pour out his sorrow to the world with tears, although too few people know how to grieve.

Now that I think about it, years are like the same river. No matter how you cut it off, it will still flow forward according to the predetermined trajectory. It's just that the wider and longer the riverbed flows, the slower the velocity will be. In fact, everyone is a passer-by in the long river of years During the journey, there will be sadness, nostalgia, sadness, lightness and dignity. Whether you like it or not, you must perform your life on the inherent river bed.

Maybe impulsive passion will bring mud and sand. Sometimes, the rushing water will rush to the beach and there is no turning back. Then, let yourself dry up on the river bank, seep into the soil, moisten the aquatic plants along the river, or the willow branches beside the dam. Their growth will be their final happiness. Often at this time, I burst into tears. Isn't it a portrayal of life?

The river of time, no matter what way or channel it flows, no matter whether it encounters dangerous beaches, rocks or flows into the wider ocean, will not be transferred by its own will. Just like life, no matter how affectionate you are, when you face your former career, work hard for it and turn around, it turns out that it is just a tool used by your superiors to dye the blood beads of a gazelle or a woman you like from time to time. After more than ten years of silence, you get a dream of Conan. When you wake up, facing all the worldly things, you are left with too much sadness and helplessness.

This may be the price in the process of progress, or it may be a deep and heavy reward for life.