The arrival of spring reminds me of many things
Wen: Qing Qiu Zhi Yuan
Tu: From the Internet
Time always comes and goes quietly, and slips away unexpectedly.
Spring is just like other seasons, it comes and goes, letting you never have a chance to savor the fragrance of flowers, and throwing you into the wilderness of memory.
I like the taste of spring, I like to search for stories in the midst of a myriad of flowers, in my childhood.
I remember the spring of my childhood, after the begonia insects passed, many swallows flew over, chatting in front of the window, willow branches swayed with light green buds, on the bald tree trunk, you could see sprouting tender yellow and clusters of green and blue.
At that time, I might have been with a few friends, carrying bamboo baskets, wandering along the road to the mountains, singing off-key ballads, searching for newly awakened wildflowers; or maybe sitting by the window, gazing into the distance in a daze; or perhaps guarding a homework book or a little man's book, my thoughts drifted to an unbounded kingdom.
A neighbor sat under the big tree at the gate, chatting and talking, tending to farming work; to dig up the stubble in Dongshan; to turn over the ridge in Xiling.
Grandma was smoking a pipe, the copper-colored smoke pot contained pale yellow tobacco. She kept pressing it again and again, then took a few puffs, and a blue circle of smoke drifted from her lips.
Like a faint smile, it floated over her head. At this time, Grandma would slightly close her eyes, enjoying the taste of life for a while, although life was hard, it was also flavorful.
Several mischievous children were pushing aside the high beam festival, weaving big earth kites, or splashing water and mixing mud balls, then throwing them into the distance; in that moment, it was as if they were throwing not mud, but a beautiful and long dream, clear and distant.
In my childhood, spring always has a sweet taste, Mom turned over the soil, Dad made bamboo baskets, a small courtyard raised hens and ducks, a big yellow dog lay lazily under a low wall, squinting his eyes, as if the whole world had nothing to do with him.
Occasionally relatives would visit, a piece of tofu, a plate of peanuts, and a bunch of scallions, was a family's sumptuous dinner. They drank their own aged baijiu, and drank it all in one go. There was no discussion of ancient and modern, no talk of rise and fall, success and failure, just one day and one night of life, no one could replace it.
The laughter in the room brought endless joy and beauty to a malnourished childhood.
In my childhood, spring is clearly just a few decades, but it's like a long movie, repeatedly flashing in my mind, making me feel like I have traveled across thousands of miles and mountains, and can't get out of my youth.
I don't know where the time in the red dust has gone, some things haven't come to be done, and they've passed by, some people haven't come to love, and they've remained aloof at the ends of the earth, falling into the sea of misfortune, waiting in loneliness.
I have countless times fantasized, if time doesn't stop flowing endlessly, I would like to stay in a pot of tea for a hundred years, accompany the years, accompany memories.
I miss the vows made on the red flag, the tears dropped beside the merit certificate, Mother's white hair, all remain fresh in my memory.
I often blame myself for being so careless and unrestrained, ignoring too much, those past events have been diluted by time, forgotten by reality. It's only when I'm lonely that I remember them, pausing in loneliness.
These past events, they are all things before the age of ten. But in life, how much ten years can be wasted, how many youthful years have become a past in the quietness.
Years pass, memories flow, the little girl who chased butterflies all over the courtyard is now old and stooped.
Life is a lifetime, serene smile, come and go in a hurry, you come, I'm here, you don't come, I'm still waiting. In spring, there is a woman who stands and waits for the blooming of a rose, for a footprint.
I remember there was once a girl like that, that's all, nothing more asked for.
