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Lyric Prose of Pomegranate Tree in Dream
Before and after Tomb-Sweeping Day, I took time off. I like to make an appointment with my friends to go to road trip. After the appointment, I will accompany my relatives, classmates and friends who are far away from home to worship their ancestors and have a drink and chat. More often, I climb the mountain alone, put markers and flowers in front of her grave, set off firecrackers, and then sit under the pomegranate tree in front of the grave and think about what I should think, and it will be half a day. I always want to spend more time with her during this holiday. The tomb is surrounded by azaleas, which are actually blood red. Although the cuckoo's call came late, the bell of Zhang Wu Temple, 300 meters to the right, lasted for a long time, and the mantra of great compassion heard in the mountains echoed every day. The fragrance floating in the temple is mixed with the fragrance of unknown mountain flowers, sometimes. Birds appeared and disappeared in pairs in the Zhuang Lei Reservoir in front of the tomb, flying up and down. They are fishing and playing. When will they return to their nests?
The pomegranate tree in front of me has green buds. That year, she was buried here and I planted this tree. Pomegranate tree can talk to her day and night! This pomegranate tree often appears in my dreams, day after day, year after year. I dreamed that it was full of trumpet-shaped red flowers, swaying in the Xia Feng, shaking and shaking into a red pomegranate in August. I dreamed that she was wearing a blue double-breasted jacket, standing under a pomegranate tree and picking pomegranates, and then putting them into a big vegetable basket made of white woven belts. Pomegranate is big, round, red and yellow. She walked to my door with a smile in her hand. I got up and opened the door. She had already left. People wake up before dawn and can't sleep. The pomegranate tree in front of the grave can live for a hundred years, but it will not blossom and bear fruit in just a few years. Did she take the pomegranate in her dream on the anniversary of her death in September that year, or did she want to go home and pick it from the pomegranate tree in the yard for me?
The pomegranate tree in the yard brought me back to the dreamlike years.
The first time I went to her house, I just graduated from college. I look like a poor student in a yellow wrinkled suit. An elderly teacher, Miss Wu, took me to a bamboo bed in a hall in the yard. She wore a particularly clean white dacron jacket and walked over without looking at me. She held a porcelain bowl with peeled pomegranate rice in her hand and handed it to me. She smiled and said, "There are many in the yard at home. Eat, so sweet. " Pomegranate rice looks like a pearl, and its color is ruddy and diverse, which probably symbolizes wealth and good luck, and many children are blessed. In my memory, it is the most delicious pomegranate I have ever eaten in my life.
The Dasha River, which stretches for thousands of miles, turned a corner in the ancient town of Tongcheng five hundred years ago, just as Liu Bowen said. Under the river bank, a century-old house is low-lying and humid, with multi-tone wooden columns on four walls falling to the ground and some rot at the lower end. On the Xiaotian well, you can clearly see the blue sky in all directions. An old well, covered with moss, has precipitated the joys and sorrows of generations. Pomegranate trees grow in the yard outside the gate, which is higher than the roof of the tile house. Its trunk diverges at two meters, one grows straight, and the other extends obliquely to the gate, rooted in barren sand like a grave. I wonder how many years it has lived.
Every August and September, when the pomegranate is ripe, she will come to my house on time, and only stay for two or three days at most. Wearing a blue double-breasted jacket and carrying a vegetable basket in his right hand, there are big, round, red and yellow pomegranates under the basket, which are filled with big, red earth eggs. Always smile and talk less. Washing dishes, sweeping the floor, wiping the table and taking out the garbage are not idle at all. At that time, the home was particularly clean. When I left, I stuffed longan milk powder in the basket and she quietly restored it. Every time she comes home loaded, she comes home empty-handed. It is an unforgivable mistake for me to come and go. If I gave it to her with my heart, I would send it to her with a bowl of milk myself and watch her drink it mouthful by mouthful, even if it was only once, I would have one ten thousandth less regret.
On the afternoon of September 16 that year, three days before the Guanyin meeting, she fasted and bathed, and suddenly had a cerebral hemorrhage while washing clothes by the Dasha River. She fell down for only three hours, and her half-open eyes could not be opened for a long time.
That year, she seemed to say goodbye to many people in advance.
That year, she sent pomegranates to everyone she knew in that small town.
That year, she personally made a basket of wormwood harrows to help me eliminate the disaster on March 3.
That year, the pomegranate she sent was red and round.
That year, she told the jokes she knew over and over again.
That year, I watched TV with her, peeled pomegranates and told the legend of pomegranates-a long time ago, Weaver Girl had a sister named Sandalwood, who often secretly went down to help Weaver Girl spin and weave. One year, the Queen Mother held a flat peach party in Yaochi. The Monkey King brought the celestial fruits of the Western Heaven to all the immortals for tasting. Nezha Jr. set foot on hot wheels, grabbed a seed that was broken by hand, revealing a pearl-like red, crystal-clear and sweet pulp. The queen mother ate it and weighed it repeatedly. She told Sandalwood to collect pomegranate seeds and plant them in the flat peach garden in the future. Unexpectedly, everyone was drunk. Sandalwood took the opportunity to steal a handful of pomegranate seeds and fled the worse. When it came to the hut where the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl lived, the Queen Mother sent Leigong Dian Mu to chase it all the way. Sandalwood is cruel. It scatters pomegranate seeds from the sky to the ground, and soon pomegranate trees grow on the hillside. Sandalwood was killed by tripterygium wilfordii Dian Mu and turned into a Tanshan Mountain in the east of the pomegranate garden on earth.
After the legend was finished, she hurried to a distant place and rested forever in the nearest place to her mother. Later, the pomegranate tree in the yard cried on the branch at the gate. In the first year, the leaves turned yellow and did not bloom. The next year, the branches withered and died in the wind. I sometimes fantasize that I want to leave endless thoughts for the living. Did she become another pomegranate tree like sandalwood?
Now the century-old house is deserted, and the door is locked. You can't see the pomegranate tree anytime and anywhere, only the one on the mountain. You can see it if you want. Every Spring Festival in Tomb-Sweeping Day, I always want to spend a few days walking more than ten miles. I sat there quietly, looking at the branches and leaves of pomegranate trees, thinking about the unforgettable time with her, until the sun set and night fell, until two pomegranate trees held hands in front of my eyes and disappeared.
Two pomegranate trees in the dream, trees that never wither. One is the beginning of her life and the other is the end of her life. She and I walked happily under the pomegranate tree for a while and waved goodbye sadly under the pomegranate tree. She is far away and close at hand. She is all the people I often think of and dream about.
One man, two trees. A colleague, a reluctant. A piece of the past, a piece of dismay. The heart is in the grave, and the love is in the old house, starting there and ending here. A kiss without shadow will never come back. There is no end to thinking.
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