Last night, my mother called to say that the house in the old village was demolished this afternoon. It seems strange that I don't think about it at ordinary times, but I feel sad about it. I miss the old house and yard that accompanied me to grow up and bear the burden of my youth. There, I have a happy and worry-free childhood, I have my fantasy youth, I have my first love. The old house carries my laughter and tears, and records my hope and sadness. Standing at the intersection of time, I seem to see the old house in my memory.
The nap is already half afternoon, sitting in the window and inadvertently looked up and then a strip dancing green on the wind came into your field of vision, as if already smelled plumes of vegetable, melon and fruit fragrance, put on slippers cried: mama, mama "came in the yard, the mother from halfway up a high sunflower sweating ying ying head lightly chastising ground to say: waking up yelling lost soul? I smiled and took the cucumber off the shelf and put it in my mouth and began to eat. At this time, my mother began to say to me: this morning, there was no huluhua, the tomato forgot to pinch its head, there was grass in the rape bush and the water radish should be watered. I say: mom you have been in the garden without a break at noon? Mom said I'm old enough to get a nap without you guys getting a little sleep. Sometimes I just quietly looked at her mother sitting under the cucumber frame making these thing in the world, I love sometimes I will run to the east garden of windlass inoue, put the rope hand hook good barrel with windlass make twisting torsion soon a bucket of cool and refreshing sweet water came up, hands joined a handful a handful into his mouth, spirits, carrying pole a go, the water urn of the main water shortage, just left right shoulder heavy, change to the left shoulder, crooked steps to sing the "tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle" music, sing for joy, sing away sorrow!
Shout cold wind, snow or outside the window, the house warm, red fire is booming, twinkle with warm light, sit the kettle on the stove, the water in the kettle quickly opened and "zi - zi -" rang and filled with dense fog, we three sisters around the stove, anxiously waiting for the dad flew from the stove pond hot set out to take out the potatoes, although it flew past father's making immediately turned into a delicious delicacy, outside the coke in tender bite very hot mouth but also hid happy, occasionally also there will be a few sweet potatoes so much the better, All over the house of sweet fragrance, mother sat on the kang invariable insoles, mending clothes, according to the mother from the words of this weather is fit for such a patchwork, days like this in the mother's glimmer of outflow, and so we grew up in a glimmer, off time, white hair, old days...
Maybe, time goes back a little bit, old wall, old house... We'll never see it again.