Old house prose in memory

When I woke up from my dream, the familiar and vague old house became clear bit by bit.

I remember I lived in a big yard with my grandmother and my uncle's family before I was seven or eight years old. Grandparents and four or five uncles live in three rooms in the north house, our family of five lives in the east house in the north house, and our uncle lives in the south house in the east house. My childhood home was in such an intimate, crowded and narrow space. This old house is also the best part of my childhood memory.

I clearly remember that the supply and marketing cooperative (state-owned store) is opposite the old house. There are a pair of semi-circular smooth stone benches in front of our house, which are actually just two stones standing at the door. We often sit on it and play. Black lacquered wooden doors creaked. It is often open. Our sisters often stand behind the side door and compete for who will climb to the top first. There are wooden pegs behind the door, and there are several fixed bars up and down. We climbed up and down this crossbar. Then, listening to the creaking sound of the wooden door, we stood on it and shook the door tightly, or simply let the sisters below push the door back and forth. At this time, there will be a feeling of flying above, which is very arrogant. If adults find out, they will inevitably reprimand them a few times, then climb down and climb up again to enjoy the pleasure while no one is paying attention. This is what we call the doorway. There is often a two-wheeled bulldozer here. This is also our paradise at that time. An aunt, a few years older, often holds the handlebar and lets four or five young people sit in the car. When she goes up and down, she is like a seesaw. When she leans up, we must hold the car body hard, or it will fall from behind. When she pushed us down, we were held high, and several children laughed, and the dolls screamed and laughed. Sometimes, I also want to try the feeling of the handlebar tilting, because it is too thin and weak, and it is often impossible.

Go through the gate, through an open-air corridor, and you will reach the second door. There is a red wooden door carved with wood grain at the entrance of the courtyard, and a side door on the right hand side. This door is often locked. I often wonder if there is a hole in it, is it a small garden? In short, it has been a mystery and a mysterious place for many years in memory. We children often want to go in, but we have never succeeded. I don't know what year and month it is, but I know it's a summer afternoon and adults are probably taking a lunch break. Nobody's here anyway. When we children sneaked out, we found that the lock on this mysterious door was actually hanging. Just take it off and you can go in. I don't know who is faster, but he has removed the lock. We quickly jumped in and saw weeds everywhere, a little afraid of bugs and ghosts. After a long hesitation, curiosity overcame fear. A few feet shuttle carefully in the grass, except for the grass, which is the opposite wall, which is more than ten meters wide and several times long. We walked west along a long road and suddenly found a well. Fortunately, we walked carefully, or we would be miserable if we fell in. The eldest cousin said, I heard that the treasure left by ancestors was buried in this well. We rushed to look into the well, hoping to see something, but the well was bottomless and we could see nothing. This will cause fear again. What should we do if a ghost flies out of the well? Several children ran away with a bang and continued to the west, only to find that the yards next door were connected together, pomegranate trees, jujube trees and peach trees ... I don't know who suggested it, let's go! Don't let anyone find out. Boom, we followed the way we came, stepped out of the mysterious door, and did not forget the padlock. This mysterious expedition is over.

Entering the second door is the compound. Near the east of the second door is my home. There is a pigsty and toilet near the south wall in the west, and a small house for raising chickens in the north. It seems that I have raised sheep and dogs. True north is the first house, where my grandmother and unmarried uncles live. I remember it rained in summer, and my mother said that we tied a happy braid (meaning happy) and ran into the yard crazily, skipping and singing! The best thing is windy and rainy, because many apples will fall from the apple tree at this time. At ordinary times, grandma is very strict and never lets us pick immature fruits. Every time I bring back a paper with a score of 100 to my mother, my mother often asks me to show it to my grandmother. In my memory, my grandmother was rolling a noodle, symbolically praising it, so I returned to my mother with satisfaction and happiness. Childhood slips away day by day in this kind of pick-up and happiness.

Left the old house and moved into a new home, about 8 years old. It was a spring season, and I heard from my father that I would soon move into a new home and look after my new house at noon. I went voluntarily. With permission, he flew over with the key. I remember my father said that Westinghouse was my sister's bedroom. I came to Westinghouse to look around. When I am tired, I want to lie on the kang and sleep. But just lying down, I found that the window was covered with flying insects with black shells, and the hum hit my hair several times. I screamed with fear, and I didn't care about any domestic commitments. I started running and met my nervous father on the way. I described my fear, and my father took my hand and told me that he was a smelly elder sister. When you touch it, it will give off an unpleasant smell. That was the first bug I encountered for the first time.

When I moved into my new home, I was most impressed by two buttonwood trees in the yard. Only a few months later, two small trees exceeded my height. After a few years, they are flourishing and the bowls are thick, so I can only look up. I don't remember what year it was, but I remember it was the first time I saw hail. In the afternoon, it was dark, the wind roared, lightning flashed and thundered. My parents and aunts sitting outside suddenly said, Look, it's raining. I was curious to see crystal particles as big as soybeans hit the ground through the door. I thought it was fun and beautiful at that time. Then there was a creak, and the big plane tree at the door of the kitchen groaned a few times, and the huge arm fell from the air. Soon, the plane tree rose from the soil bit by bit, watching him struggle and persist, and finally fell on the south eaves, completely collapsing. The water pipes and sewers adjacent to him were also damaged. It was the first time that I understood the word natural disaster from my memory and witnessed the power of nature for the first time.

The new home has been consolidated and improved in the wind, frost, rain and snow year after year. Once the South Kitchen, the image of my first pancake, the joke of jiaozi cooking jiaozi for the first time, the sense of accomplishment of steaming snow-white steamed bread for the first time, the anxiety of waiting for my parents to come home with my brother and sister in the middle of the night for the first time ... My youth waited here and slipped away unconsciously in many firsts.

Nowadays, the new home has been regarded as the old home. It quietly watched the glory of the past, silently waiting for new changes ... it still stood quietly, not sad or happy, not annoyed or angry, neither humble nor supercilious!

Miss that old house, in fact, more is miss that happy and carefree childhood, and regret the so-called happiness and endless cram schools of children now. If time can go back, I don't know whether children like TV, computers and all kinds of classes, or whether they like our carefree happiness with nature.