Write people's essays ~ ~ If they are written by celebrities ~ ~ ~

On this lonely day, I deeply miss my old mother. ...

I can't forget the joy of my novel being printed for the first time. This is what I pray day and night. Really, I think I should be happy, but I am not very happy. Avoid people, I hide in one place and cry. At that moment, I missed my mother most. ...

My family moved to Ren Guang Street, 1963. In that place, alleys are like smokers' black teeth. Pieces of low-rise broken houses are like pieces of scabies. After all, the serious threat of hunger to ordinary people began to ease. I am a fifth-grade primary school student. I have more than 30 picture books.

"Mom, here's the rest of the money."

"How much is it?"

"Fifty-two cents."

"You keep it."

I always get a few cents when I buy grain, coal and firewood. My mother gave it to me because she knew I wouldn't spend money indiscriminately, but only bought picture books. I have to buy grain, coal and firewood every month, plus some steel shovels given to me by my mother on weekdays, which is gradually considerable. Buy picture books if you accumulate more than one yuan. Picture books were very cheap at that time. A few books with a thickness of three hairs. Thin is only a few cents. Mother never objects to my buying picture books.

I also often rent picture books. At the gate of the cinema, in the park and at the railway station, a young policeman at the railway station police station once confiscated all my picture books. Said I affected the order in the station.

I cried as soon as I got home. I hit my head against the wall. My picture book is my great wealth. I think I'm broke. From a rich man to a poor man. I'm desperate to live. Want to die. My poor appearance touched my mother. So she took me to beg for my picture book.

"Don't give! Get out! "

The young policeman in the station police station, wearing a big hat with a slight skew and a moustache on his upper lip, looks like Gregory's unruly appearance. My mother admitted her mistake to him for me and promised him that she would never rent a picture book at the train station again. After talking a lot, he got bored and rudely pushed me and my mother out of the police station.

Mother said to him, "No, I'm sitting on the steps."

He said, "Who cares!" Slam the door.

"Mom, let's go, I don't want to ..."

I looked up at my mother and felt very sad. What makes a son feel more guilty than seeing his mother scolded for himself?

"Don't go. Mom will definitely bring it back to you! "

Mother said and sat down on the steps. Pull me to sit next to her and put an arm around me. Several other policemen went in and out without even looking at us.

"Gregory" appeared once.

"Still sitting here?"

Mother didn't speak or look at him.

"Hey, sit-in ..."

He smiled and went in again. ...

It is getting dark. The red light outside the police station is on, staring at us from top to bottom like a bloodshot one-eyed. My mother and I hugged each other tightly, and the figure was obliquely folded into three folds by the steps, which strangely extended to the cement square brick and was submerged in a blush. My mother and I have been sitting there for nearly four hours. Mother always follows me with one hand. I feel like my mother hasn't moved, as if she were fixed there by a lasting idea.

I don't think I can say to my mother-"Mom, let's go home!" " "

That means I lost more than thirty comic books, and my mother lost her dignity that was extremely despised. The dignity of a self-respecting woman.

I can't say that. ...

Several policemen came out, still not paying attention to us, and rode their bicycles home one after another.

Finally, Gregory came out again.

"Hey, I said you want to sleep here?"

Mom doesn't look at him. There is no answer. Look at things in the distance.

"Here you are!

Gregory threw my picture book with my schoolbag in his arms.

Mother whispered to me, "Count." The tone is calm.

I counted and told my mother, "There are three water margin books missing."

Mother just looked up. Looking up at "Gregory", it is clearly said: "The Water Margin is three volumes."

He smiled, took out three picture-story books from his pocket and threw them to me, muttering, "Yo-ho, come with me ..."

Mother finally pulled me up and walked down the steps.

"Stop!"

Gregory ran down the steps and came to us. He went up to his mother, poked his hat with one finger and wiped his beard.

I can't help holding my "spiritual food" in my arms.

Mother pulled me to her side and hugged me as if she had just sat on the steps.

"Gregory" said in unacceptable language that the general ordered two soldiers: "Wait here and don't leave without my permission!"

I looked up at my mother nervously.

Gregory turned and left.

Instead, he stopped a car and shouted to the driver, "Take that woman and child home. All the way to your door! "

The first novel I bought was The Young Guard. More than one yuan. My mother has never given me so much money at a time.

I've never asked my mother for so much money at a time.

My contemporaries, when you are a fifth-grade pupil like me, if you are like me. If you live in a poor family of ordinary workers, you can testify for me. Who decided to ask his mother for one more yuan without lack of courage?

At that time, how serious we regarded our parents' daily salary!

But I want to have a book "Young Guards", and I want to be out of my mind all day.

I have heard the novel "Young Guards" broadcast several times in succession from my classmates' radios. At that time, my broken radio had been sold and eaten by my brothers and sisters.

Of course, eating directly can't replace "spiritual food".

At that time, I didn't know what "vitamins" were, and I didn't hear anyone say "calories", but I liked to swallow "revolutionary heroism" in my mind. Just like girls like chewing bubble gum nowadays.

Egged on by myself, I went to my mother's factory and asked her for money. My mother was dismissed from the railway factory that year and worked in a small street factory, earning a monthly income from 27 yuan. Middle Ages slave workshop street factory, processing cotton rubber shoes.

A row of broken windows, at least one third of which are buried underground. So is the door. So we have to drive in. Dirty windows lose their transparency, just like black glass. I didn't walk in the door, but jumped in. I didn't expect the ground inside the door to be half a meter lower than the ground outside. The footstool can be used as a step in the door. I stepped over it and fell into the door, as if falling into a deep pit.

That was the first time I went to the place where my mother made money for us.

The space is very low. Being low makes people feel depressed. The factory building is less than 200 square meters, the walls are damp and rotten, and seventy or eighty broken sewing machines are arranged in a row. Seventy or eighty old women are busy behind the sewing machine. Because of the dim light, every woman has a light bulb hanging on her head. I can't open the window in hot summer. The heat from 70 or 80 women and 70 or 80 light bulbs makes me feel like I'm in a steamer. Those women are so hot that they only wear vests. Some vests are fat, some are thin, and some wear men's suspenders, revealing a considerable number of plump or shriveled breasts, which is very strange. Felt like a thick brown fog, like a long snowflake, floating between a woman and her mother. And they have to wear masks one by one. There are three solid brown circles on the masks of women and mothers. That's because the breathing through their nostrils and mouths makes the mask wet, and they feel the wool attached to it. The female mother's hair, arms and vest have almost become excellent. Furry brown. I feel like a woman and mother in the caveman era.

I just glanced at the mother of one of the women, but I couldn't find my mother.

The noise from seventy or eighty broken sewing machines is deafening.

"Who are you looking for?"

An old man patting a bamboo mat with a bamboo stick shouted at me, but he didn't stop patting.

The furry brown old man looks like an old male ape.

"looking for my mother!"

"Who is your mother?"

I said my mother's name out loud. "

"there!"

The old man pointed to the innermost corner.

I walked past a row of sewing machines and walked to that corner. I saw an extremely thin, furry brown man with his back bent and his head close to the sewing machine board. The electric heating of several light bulbs around me baked my face.

"mom ...

"mom ...

Straighten your back, my mother. Turn around, my mother. Above the dirty, hairy brown mask, my familiar eyes looked at me in surprise, my mother's eyes.

Mother asked loudly, "What are you doing here?"

"I ..."

"Speak quickly, don't delay mom's work!"

"I ... want money ..."

I didn't want to say the word "ask for money", but I did!

"What do you need money for?"

"Buy books ..."

"How much is it?"

"One yuan and fifty cents will do ..."

Mom uses a pocket. Take out a curly ticket and light it with your fingers that split at your fingertips.

A woman next to her stopped the sewing machine and leaned down to her mother and shouted, "Sister, don't give it! Not as a mother as you! For them to eat, for them to wear, for them to go to school and for them to read! ..... "and shouted at me:" How do you think your mother makes money? You have the heart to ask your mother for money to buy books! ……"

My mother has put the money into my hand and answered the woman loudly, "Who told us to be mothers?" ! I'm glad he loves reading! "

Mother said that, immediately sat down again, immediately bent down, immediately put her head on the sewing machine board, and immediately fell into a state of mechanical busy hands and feet. ...

That day, for the first time, I found that my mother was as thin as an old woman! At that moment, I tried to recall the image of a young mother, but I couldn't remember when she was young.

That day, for the first time, I felt that I should be an adult when I grow up. And because I am 15 years old, I realize that I should be an adult and feel ashamed.

My nose hurt and I ran out with the money. ...

I bought a can of fruit for my mother with that one yuan and fifty cents that day.

"You this child, who told you to buy me canned fruit? ! Didn't mom give you money because you said you would buy books? !

My mother scolded me that day. After criticizing me, I got enough money to buy young guards. ...

I don't think I have the right to use that money to buy other things, whether for myself or for my mother.

Since then, I have my first novel. ...