Seek the full text of rip in April

Jane's April is gloomy and hopeless. I have thought of that sensitive and delicate woman countless times. I think once, and my heart softens once. If you think about it once, your heart will be dull once and dull once. Every year at this season, I always think, I always hope that I will try to live better than her in April.

Now, I find some words that I have never thought about.

one

There are some words that I haven't decided how to say.

Which expression is the most appropriate, Liuan in this warm wind. I have nothing to do with my eyes. I squinted across the branches that fluttered gently, where less and less sunlight came in.

Sudden dizziness, like a plane losing weight in the air, the whole world is fading rapidly. I am no longer as afraid as before, afraid of falling headlong and falling into an ugly sleeping position. My body once made me extremely disappointed and afraid, and some abnormal symptoms remained in my heart, which made people worry. I refused to go to the hospital, knowing that I might not find anything. Of course, I am also extremely afraid that if I really find something, I will never be born.

It's late spring. The streets are already colorful and beautifully dressed. I looked up at the sky, so blue, so clean and pure, so blue that I couldn't help but feel heartache when I looked at it again, and I had to drop my eyes quickly.

Where I was standing, I was with my mother the other day. She threw a handful of coins into the river and said, "River God, I've come to realize my mother's wish." Please take good care of her and let her be blessed and safe.

The coin flashed a small piece of silver on the river and suddenly sank into the water, like a star suddenly falling and fleeting. Mother explained that she dreamed that grandma was standing by the river with tears on her face. Mother said that after she woke up, she thought for a long time. She remembers that grandma once told me that when she was pregnant with her, she crossed a small bridge and the bridge collapsed behind her. Standing on the broken bridge, she made a wish: no matter where she is, the children in her belly will thank the river god for his blessing.

Mom said she would give up when she met the river. She said: Mom told me I should do this.

I walked slowly, holding my mother's arm. I feel really happy. Because I can still walk slowly in the depths of spring, holding my mother like this, and my mother can only see her in her dreams.

I promised to save enough coins for her so that she could throw them when she saw the river. I also promised to throw it away when I met the river in the future, and let the river god know how grateful I am for protecting my mother forever. Mother patted my hand and smiled.

What a beautiful smile! The years of my life, the ups and downs of the dynasty, and the joys and sorrows of my half life have all merged into that face.

Mom said: Yao Yao, mom can't be by your side. The most important thing for you is to take care of yourself.

I nodded. Just nod. Some words can't be said. I know how weeds live, their love for life, their exuberance and tenacity have always been my unremitting goal.

Now I stand here, thinking of my mother, thinking of my nodded head. My life is like a buried water pipe. I don't know where it broke, it is leaking at an unpredictable speed. In this late spring, I feel helpless in silence when the breeze blows on the bank of the willow, under the blue sky where I only look at it, and after my sudden dizziness.

two

There are some things I haven't decided how to say.

It's late spring.

I have missed some spring progress. For example, pear blossoms are white, peach blossoms are red and rape blossoms are yellow. The slopes are full of hikers, and the sky is full of people flying kites. What a bright and cheerful season this is, I missed some processes.

When I sent my mother home, I took the train I hadn't taken for years because she was carsick. Very novel feeling, as excited as a child, walking around in the empty carriage, pointing to the endless oleander flowers flying out of the window and the yellow rape flowers on the hillside in the distance, calling to my mother: look, it's beautiful!

Mother smiled, like a naughty girl who indulged years ago. I said, mom, I'm a little tired. I'm going to sleep. He said, lying down. My mother moved to my side, pulled up my skirt, put my head in her arms and said, "In this way, you will sleep more comfortably. You should have a good sleep for three hours. " .

Later, I said to my father: Do you know, I slept comfortably in the crash of the train and in my mother's arms? I remember we used to take the train with you and mom. At that time, I was still young, and I would be too tired to sleep when I was playing. I remember every time you held me to sleep. My mother gave me a hug when you weren't here this time. Mom said I was asleep, and I kept laughing. My husband glared at me several times when he came to meet us at the station. Because my mother's leg was numb by my pillow.

I lit a cigarette, put it on the grave, spilled another glass of wine, and said, Dad, this is my brother's favorite cigarette, as well as wedding wine and candy. I brought you all here. You have a daughter-in-law, a teacher, a music teacher, a beautiful and gentle girl, and get along well with me and my mother. We all like her very much, and you will be very satisfied. The wedding was grand and smooth. Mother has been worried about her brother's marriage. Now, this great event has finally been a complete success. She is very happy. Dad, are you happy, too? After dealing with some things, my brother will bring his new wife to see you, and then you can see her.

I looked up with a smile. On the opposite hillside, rape blossoms are in full bloom, and occasionally firecrackers are heard in the distance. The sun is shining and the breeze is blowing gently. What a beautiful spring, dad. Have you seen it?

The little demon leaned over, snuggled up to me gently and whispered, Mom, what did you say to Grandpa after such a long time? My knee hurts.

Dad, you see, the little devil has grown a lot, and it's always too late to buy him clothes and pants that fit him. He is healthy and sensible, but he is a little playful and occasionally disobedient, and will be beaten by his father. I will teach him to be an upright and kind person, a person like you.

Packed my backpack, I got up and walked down the hill with the little demon in my arms. On the way, we picked some wild flowers, woven them into garlands at will, put them on our heads, and laughed and hurried by all the way.

It's late spring. Pear trees have long been green, peach blossoms are flying red, rape is greener, the sun is warmer, and kites are hanging on high branches. I thought of Xiao Yao and asked, what did you talk to grandpa for so long?

Actually, there's a lot to say. There is always not enough time. How can you finish if you want to talk?

three

There are some words that I haven't decided how to say.

Some words can only rot in my heart. Some words can only be said to friends far away.

Sometimes, distance can add countless sense of security to people. Without any heavy communication, those wisps of simplicity and care will arouse the bitterness in the deep heart, and they are eager to enter a flat top secret channel, let them pour out their secrets and redeem some unspeakable secrets.

I call her sister. Screaming like a drowning man meets driftwood. I long for her fingers to cross the void and gently smooth the wrinkles of my soul. I chattered like Sister Xianglin, and then I was relieved and paralyzed. My sister told me everything: seven red dates, 15g Ejiao, steamed. Eat it every night, and I will protect my liver and lungs. We should all be good to ourselves. Sister, you from afar must also be good to yourself.

An island in the sea became a postmark one day. Some garlic and shredded squid waded up the hill and reached my palm. I ate shredded squid, and then rummaged around with greasy hands, looking for a suitable vessel to shelter the garlic head. I found a fish tank that had been empty for a long time. Garlic with big head relaxes muscles, promotes blood circulation and is full of vitality in a transparent fish tank. I said to the postmark: Don't worry, even if it never blooms, I will make it the happiest garlic in the world, and it can breathe freely and grow as it pleases. On the evening of the Spring Festival, the fireworks were clustered outside the window, and I fell asleep. The next day, February 14, is a happy or sad day. I was awakened by the ringing of the SMS, and got up and walked around the house barefoot. Then, I saw my garlic, which became the noblest and most beautiful narcissus in the world.

I miss the distance. My soul was exiled again and again, and I finished my spiritual wandering again and again. He's gone, clean and tidy. What's left is all kinds of ideas born in vain. What a hypocritical person I am. If he comes back, I will still be indifferent to him. But he left. There is a reasonable reason for my idea. I will remember him from now on, forever, and remember some plots related to him.

I cried badly. For a friend who is about to go to the ocean, for his uncertain life, for his troubled soul struggling in the evil flow like a trapped animal. I am so distressed, helpless and tired. I heard another person crying. She shared the same tears with me. We accidentally looked at each other in the complicated world and caught a glimpse of some similar hearts in each other's pupils. For those we care about and care about, our souls snuggle together gently. I think of him and her in the music of Yumenguan. People who go out from Yangguan in the west for no reason, my old friends, are wandering in the spiritual wasteland. What we long for is only to respond to the sincerity of others with sincerity. The flowers called friendship are so bright and fragrant, but thorns always appear in unpredictable forms, piercing the unsuspecting palm. Blood-stained palms danced wildly, so fierce that my heart ached. All my words stuck in my throat and I couldn't hold that hand. My blessings and hopes can only be blown away with my hair. There are some words that I haven't decided how to say. Think about it, this should also be her intention: to give him a peaceful, quiet and happy heart.

four

There are some words that I haven't decided how to say.

It's Panshan Highway. From here, you can extend in all directions and go to small towns scattered in various mountain bags. Straight trees are flying by the window. I don't know the name, it feels like Populus euphratica in the north. But I know it's not. Although, in winter, their naked trunks stab the gray sky like a sword, now it is spring. When they put on new clothes, they have less cold edges and more graceful postures. They were always there, but the window couldn't stay, so they flew over one by one.

They fly to pieces in the song of Dao Lang. Dao Lang's songs are very suitable for long-distance driving. The road seems endless. Between the two cities, in the excitement of getting up and going, there is only a touch of fatigue and desolation.

Just take a look at this ancient town. Knowing that you are likely to be disappointed, you still have to go and see it, just like stubbornly proving yourself wrong. In fact, the ancient town does not need anyone to be satisfied or disappointed with it. It dresses up its body and then lets people enjoy it. The footsteps coming and going float in the wind, sigh repeatedly and float on the water, while the ancient town is silent forever in the brand-new ruins, and it is willing to sleep in the seal of history.

The entrance to the village is still an old locust tree. It's late spring, and it's the season of Sophora japonica. Three or five children, with long bamboo poles, spread the branches of Sophora japonica, and the children under the tree scrambled to pick up Sophora japonica. I also dawdled over, picked up a small string and put it on my nose to smell. The children looked curiously at the strange woman who boldly came in and grinned. A timid man timidly handed me one and took it with a smile. In his heart, he was moved warmly.

Sophora japonica is such a humble little flower, but because it is related to the whole childhood, it has become a saying in the rivers and lakes: Sophora japonica is actually a kind of homesickness. Pull down the flowers and put one in each pocket. I think these warm smells are enough to penetrate into the skin under the clothes, even the blood and bone marrow inside the skin.

Jimmy said I could only draw you a small card. He painted a picture of cherry blossoms flying all over the sky for dear yukiko. How I miss who will draw a fragrant Sophora japonica flower for me. The road is endless, and there is no difference between the starting point and the end point. And at every intersection, there is a locust tree, which connects every flowering period with some past that is too late to say or unclear.

And miss, like Sophora japonica, always comes as scheduled in late spring.

five

There are some words that I haven't decided how to say.

When spring comes, it always rains and sunny at night. That's good. There is rain in a quiet sleep, and there is no muddy road in a bright spring outing.

My spring outing comes and goes every weekend. I spent less than half of my time sitting in the car, watching the trees and Shan Ye flying by, as well as the ink-and-wash villages and building blocks towns. The rest of the time, half in his sleep, one arm resting on the pillow until he was unconscious, and the other half, he just wandered the streets and walked aimlessly in the noise.

Xiaoyao always has interesting places to introduce me, but I always let him down. This river is people's favorite place to go. As soon as the little demon took off his coat and shoes and socks, he swished up the sand mountain, then rushed down screaming, and so on. I don't understand what's funny about this, just as he doesn't understand why I can stand on the beach in high heels and watch the river for hours. He bathed in the river, dressed neatly and said, Yao Yao, you are so boring. Forget it, let's go shopping with you.

Shopping is the little devil's tolerance for me. Like Nezha, he stepped on the hot wheels, quickly and skillfully shuttled through the crowd, slipped several hundred meters and turned to look for his lost mother. After a long time, I still complained: Yao Yao, you idiot. Finally, he couldn't bear it. He threw me into the second floor of the bookstore and told me: don't go anywhere, just stay here and read, and I'll find you later. I quietly followed him to the fourth floor. This is a children's playground, completely open. Half of the venues are children's playgrounds, and half of the venues are equipped with children's books and toy counters, and various toy racing tracks and hand-drawn equipment are provided. Except for a few children who were accompanied by adults, all the other children played enthusiastically together. Xiao Yao took out his beloved racing car from his backpack and was discussing how to race with several children of similar age.

It turns out that in this city that I am very familiar with, there is even this side of the sky that I never knew. Xiaoyao is as familiar as going in and out of his own kitchen, and when did I lose contact with this city? I retired and obediently returned to the second floor. It's like an adult's world, a lonely corner of the whole world.

Just let Jane accompany me. Holding her soul, I sat in front of the French window and watched the smoke all afternoon. The woman who let me indulge in the quiet, pure and confused soul for countless times, she is recalling the most primitive and vivid fifteen years in her life bit by bit. Half my thoughts followed Jane, and half my thoughts stayed on the fourth floor. There, my little devil, he is continuing his childhood.

It's only fifteen years. It's too late to sigh, and I feel that things have changed long ago.

I followed Xiaoyao's childhood step by step, but I was still a bystander. His pace is getting faster and faster, and my physical strength is not enough. Just like in the cinema, we watched The Legend of Narnia together. He slipped out and bought popcorn and coke, put them in my hand and said, for you. Girls can't watch movies without this. When Aslan died on the stone platform, he reached out his little hand and touched my face and said, Are you crying again? This is a movie, fake.

Of course I know it's fake. Is it cowardly and naive to cry for some illusory plots in the film? It's still my psychological endurance that I can't catch up with a child. I can't elaborate on the sadness in my heart. My little demon, he is growing up. He can adapt to this era well and take care of himself and his mother. I should be gratified.

It's just that something is missing. Just like my childhood, I can never go back. So, there are some things that I can't explain. About some spiritual innocence and purity, I can't show them to my little devil.

September 30(th), 2006

September 30(th), 2006