Listen to echo prose

I had to listen to the echo, wander around the stump and scatter a piece of acacia ... here I bring you seven short articles about listening to the echo. Welcome to reading. I hope you like them.

Chapter 1: Listening to echoes Life is always noisy, and so is the world. We talk about the silence of history, and we complain about the silence of heaven ... but we don't know that the voice of history always echoes between heaven and earth, and the whisper of heaven always lingers in our ears, but our ears can't hear it.

China is a country that has experienced many vicissitudes. Thousands of years of civilization have created the Chinese nation. We used to have top technology, we used to have the most vast land, and we used to have the most prosperous market ... but history is crying for us and lamenting the raging war in China! Eight-Nation Alliance invaded Beijing, Yuanmingyuan was destroyed, and the Japanese invaded China for more than ten years ... China's beautiful land was divided into pieces. History has issued the deepest cry: "Chinese children, come on!" If you fall behind, you will be beaten, and the tragedy cannot be repeated! " Yes, China is full of disasters. If you don't cheer up, you will be miserable!

I sighed: "If the sky is affectionate, it will be old, so the sky is silent and heartless." After the imperial examination, the examinee pointed to the sky and said, "Heaven has no eyes!" " "So I went straight to the grave. Finally, he got together, but he shouted to heaven: "Heaven is merciless!" " "Then turned into a double butterfly. I can't help but sigh: "It was a mistake to kill me last day!" Give up one's life for righteousness Listen quietly, heaven is complaining: "it's not my fault, it's the fault of ordinary people like you!" " Candidates rank last, blaming themselves for not working hard enough and being born at the wrong time. Because of its feudal and foolish ideas, it is difficult to get together. Ambition is not paid, just blame it for its lack of talent and ability. Can you push it all to me? "Yes, life is rough, how to blame others? A gentleman asks for himself, but a villain asks for help!

In fact, everything in the world has its own language, not that we are deaf, but that we are used to the noise of the world and it is difficult to listen quietly. In fact, when we really calm down, we will hear another echo in our ears.

Chapter 2: Listening to the Echo I have always liked this song: "I miss the past, always looking at it simply, never asking, never being afraid of it …" Just listening, I will unconsciously recall the past-that time that seems to never leave, but I am not around.

I dare not recall the past, I am afraid.

I'm afraid those silvery laughter will make me cry; I'm afraid that the pebbles hidden in the candy box will make me stay where I am and I don't want to go any further. My almost forgotten good times are like this cup of green tea in front of me. It looks freshest in color and smells freshest. When I sip, I feel the bitterness that I can't get rid of, and it seeps into my heart.

However, I can't help myself.

I miss the clear river in front of my door. Every year on the evening of July 30th, a whole street will celebrate the birthday of the earth god. And naughty hungry, but also more than once the incense into the shape of a five-pointed star, gently put them on the water, with the gentle sound of water, let them drift to that magical place full of colored stones and colorful flowers. And that big river only stays in the past, just like my past, and it can never go back. I can only mourn it with a feeling called "melancholy".

I miss the lonely basketball court behind my fence. Every autumn-every autumn when the leaves fall, there is always a naughty child who foolishly climbs a small osmanthus tree, breaks a few branches full of osmanthus, jumps and runs home happily like a treasure hunt.

Every evening when it doesn't rain, I can always see such a picture: a little girl with croissants and a worn-out basketball in her fleshy hand. She raised her hands vigorously, and it brushed the rusty rickety basket, slammed it on the concrete floor, bounced up and fell. Bang, bang, bang ... slowly. Osmanthus fragrans scattered all over the floor, heavy scooters and little girls who concentrate on blowing dandelion tidbits slowly disappear from my sight and stay in the corner of memory with cowhide basketball.

I used to be obsessed with taking pictures and recording-maybe I still am-just to leave some fragments of my memory for me to savor in my spare time. But it's just memories, isn't it? People always have to move forward, no matter how reluctant they are to the things in front of them, they still have to say goodbye to them-maybe they can see you again, maybe they will never see you again.

The so-called helplessness.

So, let's go with memories, just be careful. When you calm down, please don't forget to listen to the echo.

Chapter three: Listening to the echo wandering in the gentle and graceful streets of Jiangnan town. The gray sky is full of fine rain and falls in the wet soil. There are endless ripples on the river, and the awning boat floats quietly, full of wet wishes of Jiangnan people. Inadvertently stepped into an alley, long and long, and suddenly thought of Dai Wangshu's Rain Lane. Has he ever met a woman like lilac in such a rainy lane? It suddenly occurred to me that there are alleys like this in my hometown.

The alleys in my hometown are not as light and agile as those in Jiangnan. They are a little more calm and solemn, and they are not as full of twists and turns as the water towns in the south of the Yangtze River. But straight and serious, just like the temper of northerners, uninhibited. It's just that they are as long as each other. Where do they lead? Whether it is the heart of a wanderer.

My first feeling about the world was born in the alley of my hometown. When I was four or five years old, I would pick up a piece of chalk and scribble on the walls on both sides of the alley to draw the world in the eyes of children. Adults smiled and shook their heads, but I enjoyed it and pursued the world hidden in light and shadow.

My understanding of life is also because of the alleys in my hometown. On a sunny summer evening, I moved to a small Mazar, sat quietly in the alley, sniffed the thick ancient flavor from the alley, and watched the smoke curling up into the blue sky, much like a faint ink painting. Occasionally, I will walk in the alley, gently touch the floor tiles polished by years with my feet, and quietly touch the walls weathered by time with my hands. At that moment, my heart was full of ancient fantasies, and life was clearly visible at the end of the alley.

An alley also made me realize the beauty of human nature. On a fresh morning, I ran to open the gate, and I happened to meet Uncle Zhang across the hall who opened the door, smiled at each other and said good morning to each other. It will be warm. On holidays, every family hangs a pair of red lanterns, which are dazzling red and reflect antique alleys. At this time, you give me a pear and I give you some plums. Everyone is talking and laughing and chatting. At this time, the alley echoed with beautiful laughter, which persisted for a long time.

In the alley of my hometown, you are the origin of my character, and you are my eternal treasure! Hometown, even though I have traveled all over Qian Shan all my life, I will never leave your arms. I am in your sight, I am on your voyage!

Only then can I understand the feeling of wandering homesickness. "But I looked home, and it was getting dark, and there was a sad fog on the river waves." "I don't know where to play the flute, and I want to recruit people all night." My hometown will always be the pillar and destination of my soul. Birds love the old forest, fish miss the old source, Humayu depends on the north wind, the fox dies first, the thousands of feet is built, and the leaves fall to the roots. The farther away from home, the deeper I miss my hometown. This yearning stings my heart, and the longer it takes, the harder it will be to heal.

If you leave your hometown for a long time, your memory of your hometown will be blurred. On a sunny day, think about your hometown, where there are your tears and laughter and your roots.

Just like I am now, listen to the echo in the alley. ...

Chapter four: Listening to the echo of the empty night, only loneliness remains. The autumn wind rises again, gently lifting the window screen and slowly putting it down. In autumn, people also become sentimental. Trouble is endless, just like the moon, no matter how you look at it, you can't see its boundaries clearly.

In the dim light, I seem to hear a song. I started up, approached the window and finally decided on the title of the song. A few years ago, I loved this song. Today, a few years later, how can we sing after the storm? My heart suddenly trembled, and my thoughts drifted back with the autumn wind.

Home has always been warm. Family will always be the deepest warmth in my heart. My favorite is jiaozi wrapped by grandma; My favorite is the sweater knitted by my mother; My favorite song is Song of Life composed by my father at will. What makes me most happy is having dinner with my family. Late at night, my mother brought me a cup of hot tea, which warmed the whole house. Every time I go home, my grandmother is always caring and attentive and doesn't feel cold. The jokes at the dinner table seem to liven up the atmosphere.

However, in spite of this, I left home. Maybe he is young and frivolous and doesn't understand the world. Life has plunged me into deep depression several times. Facing a new day, we must step back again. At that time, hearing the word "going home" was like a fire in winter, which warmed the whole heart.

When I woke up in the morning, I saw the sunshine coming in quietly from the window around me. It was warm and my heart was suddenly enlightened. This is the sunshine of home! You see, it was laid on my quilt in no hurry. I reached out and caught the sunshine in my hand, and life became better.

Friends, I know I can't live without them. Proud reminder, sad comfort, frustrated encouragement, resentment, their understanding and tolerance. I know that I am lucky, as if enjoying God's care and giving me their love.

I just want to talk to them about my unhappiness. "I don't want to make you depressed." The friend said. So, I try to adjust my mood and live happily as my friends hope.

The long-lost tune brought me back to this boundless night, but I know that the night will no longer be lonely. Family and friends, they are my treasures and the only wealth I enjoy. The air is filled with faint warmth and sadness, which has also been diluted. Month, no longer appears cold and cheerless, but that kind of gentle beauty. Listening to the echo, I found myself in the echo.

Chapter 5: Listening to the autumn wind and scattered autumn leaves, I suddenly remembered the persimmon tree that I grew up with at the window lattice.

I think of my old grandmother again. "When autumn comes, persimmons can be eaten again.". There is a warm current in my heart. Today, I looked at persimmon trees with residual roots. I had to make a cup of fragrant tea and pick a morning flower in Qiu Li, a southern city.

The innocence of the past has long been lost in thought. Sixteen years later, I can only have a cup of tea. The persimmon tree was cut down, leaving only the residual roots, and the grandmother left. A wisp of thoughts, beautiful, out of reach. Everything, all disappeared in the rolling river of history, lost in the weak water. Only in the depths of my heart can I piece together an echo with words.

When persimmon trees are still flourishing, you can look up at the blue sky through the gaps in the leaves and have a different view. My grandmother always leans on the thick persimmon tree with her hands clenched, her hair disheveled and let the wind blow. At this time, I will put my head on grandma's lap and let her tell me stories. Innocent and brilliant childhood disappeared in the deep memory of the elderly and children. Grandma likes telling stories about War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression. I only vaguely remember that when the Japanese came, she climbed the tree and the dense leaves covered her body. When there were few of them, she hit them on the head with persimmons, which fell to the ground and grinned. I don't know if it's true or not, but I still don't deny that my grandmother has deep feelings for persimmon trees. Even if the beautiful days are ordinary, they are so unforgettable.

When I grow up, my grandmother's face is covered with bark-like lines, and her original teeth are almost gone, so I can't bite persimmons anymore! So before winter, I sun-dried persimmons into dried persimmons. She will take a sip of tea, just like I am tasting fragrant tea now. I understand that he is "mourning a moment in his life." Instead of leaning against the persimmon tree, she moved to a small chair and basked in the warm sun. She knew that she could not join hands with persimmon trees and die together. She always wants me to go to her little house and listen to his stories, but I'm mature and those old stories can't fool me.

Where are you now? Where are the trees now? We are still together, in that leisurely afternoon, watching the clouds roll and relax. ...

Like a flower, it is a beautiful and prosperous story. Listening to the echo, moving and hopeful scenes are presented in front of us. Autumn is a glass of wine, which dyed my fragrant tea red and rolled up my thoughts. The past time at the end of the year was too late to clean up, and it was deeply involved in all the dust.

Grandma and persimmon trees used to be so harmonious and beautiful, but now, that shallow sadness has broken the helplessness and memories of a place. Looking back, the world of mortals was broken again. I can't remember that memory, so I have to listen to the echo and wander around the remaining trunk, scattering a piece of acacia. ...

Chapter 6: Listen to the echo, the sky is as transparent as water, and the rain gently blows on the cheeks. I sit at the window and meditate.

Grandma went to the street as usual today, holding a glass bottle as usual. She held it, as if holding precious jewels, and quietly moved small steps step by step along the high-rise buildings in the street. She walked over and over again, day after day, year after year, even in rainy and snowy days.

I knew that my grandmother had such a "compulsory course" since I was a child, but I never asked her why, just curious: what's the point of her doing repetitive things every day? And that strange glass bottle. Mom said it was my grandfather's legacy. I looked at it carefully, but it was just an ordinary bottle, not more expensive than 10 yuan, but my grandmother regarded it as a rare treasure. The strangest thing is that there is nothing in the bottle. It is empty.

I guess: What's strange about empty bottles? You can buy a lot if you want. Why is it just a treasure? Maybe grandpa put water in it to raise flowers, so after the flowers withered, the bottle still had memories.

Value; Or a tadpole, or a 100 paper crane given by my grandfather to my grandmother, so my grandmother raised it with longing and strolled around the old street with it every day. So where did the paper crane fly now?

Finally, I decided to solve the mystery that has existed for nearly 20 years.

I took back my thoughts, went through the rain curtain, came to my grandmother's house and asked her questions. Her eyelashes trembled slightly and she smiled and promised to tell me the answer.

She bent down, I helped her, and we came to the old street together with the bottle. She walked slowly along the wall, holding the bottle tightly with one hand and stroking the wall gently with the other: "You must think this bottle is empty!" " ! Everyone thinks so, except me. It contains the kindest things, no, it's baby, it's what your grandfather said to me before he died. ""What did you say? "I'm surprised.

"Yes, there was no tape recorder at that time, so he asked the doctor to take down his water bottle, pour out the medicine inside, and then told me to take it. He said to the bottle mouth intermittently with his last weak voice, "Wife, live well, and I will wait for you in heaven with my eternal love for you." "Grandma was in tears. She pressed the bottle tightly to her ear, and a beautiful smile appeared on her wrinkled face." I heard him talking to me again, and the echo floated over and over again. "Listen!" I took the bottle and listened with my ears, but I heard nothing. Oh, you should listen carefully.

After people leave, there are only invisible things left. Maybe these invisible chains can only be connected by memories and feelings. After grandma moved from the old street, the old house disappeared, but the street is still an old street full of memories. Walking in the old street with an "echo bottle" is her happiest moment.

"Old houses can be turned into ruins; The past can be a faded memory; And love will continue silently in our hearts. " Late at night, I wrote this in my diary. The bottle contains the most beautiful sound. It was a piece of music that my grandfather rolled his rock-solid heart into the shape of a leaf and gently played it to my grandmother!

Chapter 7: Listen to the echo. In crowded cities, in busy streets, houses standing under Dongbaihua Lane; It should be so familiar and kind. This used to be the happiest place in my childhood, but I can't find any traces of life. There are no square courtyards, no dilapidated telephone poles, and even mulberry trees have quietly disappeared.

I doubt whether there really was such an alley in the past. There is my home in it. In the courtyard of the square, my grandmother and I sat under the mulberry tree and counted the stars in the sky. Now that everything is gone, grandma has walked out of this alley to go deeper and further.

Recalling when I first moved into my new home, I was so happy that I flew around the yard like a bird. Perhaps in the old memory, new home is a beautiful word. Have everything new, but lose the past. There is a good saying: only when you lose it can you know how to cherish it. Yes, I wanted to grow up quickly when I was a child. Now that I have lost my childhood, I realize how precious it is.

Later, I moved into a new home, but there was no lovely neighbor, little sister. I got a man who charged parking fees all day and shouted downstairs all day. There are many saplings in the mulberry tree downstairs, I don't remember. I really feel sorry for these countless saplings. There is not enough land to stretch my body. Every year in late spring, my aunt will come here to cut off the newly grown seedlings.

In fact, the new home is a terrible place. There is no star company, only cars shouting, no free play of small animals, only dogs constrained by their owners walking slowly downstairs, no noise of neighbors drinking tea and laughing in the street, only a group of four-wheeled cars with black eyes curled up and horns ringing.

I went shopping in the supermarket the other day and walked through Dongbaihua Lane. The people in the alley seem to have known each other for a long time. Yes, ten years later, the "newcomers" who dominate here are all old neighbors. They have no idea that I used to live here. The long and short ten years have turned everything in the past into dust and swept to another planet with strong winds.

Suddenly, a group of children played hide-and-seek in the alley, and the laughter seemed to be yesterday, so familiar and strange. At that time, I played hide-and-seek with him and other partners in our secret base, sometimes playing badminton in the alley, and sometimes playing cards under mulberry trees. Now all this is gone. I once went to see the secret base, but nothing changed except a few broken bricks. This is the only place I feel gratified.

Sometimes I often think that everything in the past will be a dream, maybe there is no past at all, the future, only the present. Just like shouting in the valley, all the echoes are false and empty, but listening to the echoes quietly, I found that without my shouting, there would be no echo worth tasting.