Classic Prose Memorized by Old Houses

No matter how long I leave my hometown, the old house in the country will always be my deepest memory. It is like an immortal legend in the long river of history, echoing in the ocean of my memory all the time.

Life in the old house has undergone three major changes.

The old house was located by the river. Those are three old houses left by our ancestors. It was built before liberation. Although it has been repaired twice, the elegant architectural style is faintly visible. The front eaves, doors and windows of the house are all carved with wooden materials into auspicious clouds, diamonds and water waves, which are really beautiful. We live in a yard with several uncles and aunts. There is a big yard outside the gate. There is a row of weeping willows beside the yard. Next to the weeping willows is a row of tall and straight poplars. Along the stone steps near the courtyard, there is a clear river from east to west.

Childhood memories begin with this river, this willow tree, this big yard and this antique old house. In the summer evening, we sat on the mat in the corridor at the gate and listened to menstruation telling stories, while the boys were barefoot playing war games in the yard where the wheat had been run over. When you are thirsty, walk down the stone steps, squat down and put your hand into the water to drink. In an instant, a hint of coolness and sweetness passed through the tip of the tongue and penetrated into the teeth. When we scooped water for the second time, we suddenly saw a full moon and rows of weeping willows in the river, and we reached out to catch it. The winter night in the old house is warm and pleasant. Despite the cold wind outside the window, the indoor heatable adobe sleeping platform is very hot. My mother sewed me cotton gloves under the kerosene lamp to keep out the cold, and my brothers and I told stories around the small kang table. This night is day after day, year after year ...

That water became the sweetest water in my memory, Na Yue became the brightest month in my memory, that story became the most beautiful story in my memory, that willow tree became the most beautiful tree in my memory, that hot kang was the warmest place in my memory, and that kerosene lamp was the brightest lamp in my memory. Water, trees, kangs and oil lamps have become my companions, accompanying us to grow up with the old house.

In this old house, in this yard, there will never be troubles, but here, it has become the source of our happiness. But it didn't last long. /kloc-at the age of 0/3, a rain that lasted for nearly two months caused the river to skyrocket, ruthlessly washed away the willow and poplar trees that grew up with me, and the big yard was also washed away, leaving only the old house only 4 or 5 meters away from the river.

The old house that is already unsafe, my father is worried that it will be washed away if the water rises again. In the second year, a new tile house with civil structure was built near the mountain. The old house has completed the second relocation.

The old house became a new house. Mother planted walnut trees, apple trees, apricot trees, mulberries and other fruit trees in front of and behind the house, and planted colorful flowers such as peony, peony, rose and chrysanthemum beside the courtyard. Going home, you have to go through a narrow path of 100 meters, which is covered with all kinds of grass on both sides. Whenever spring comes, purple horse lotus and some unknown small yellow flowers bloom on both sides of the path, and greet everyone passing by with a smile in the breeze. I can see houses hidden in green trees from afar. Approaching the houses, the oncoming flowers came to the sight, the yard was cleaned by my mother, and all kinds of flowers around the yard were in full bloom. Every time I go home from school, I can see the smoke curling up from the top of the kitchen when I walk on the path. My mother's busy figure in front of the kitchen came to my eyes, and my imagination strongly impacted my taste buds, and I couldn't help but speed up the pace of going home ... That house and that wisp of smoke will always be my warmest memory and my yearning.

Time flies, I grow up, and my old house is getting old. Every time I set foot on this path full of lotus flowers, my heart seems to be more anxious. I saw my mother sitting in front of the door embroidering, and my father reading under the apple tree in the west corner of the yard. Father's silver beard, mother's silver hair, and this flowery courtyard constitute a quiet and perfect picture. I stood quietly by the courtyard, unwilling to break this beauty, until my mother found me, and the tranquility of the courtyard was suddenly broken. My father took off his reading glasses and put down his hand.

Now that warm scene can only be a memory. My parents have left us for many years, and the old house has become very old. In the year of the earthquake, deep cracks appeared in the earth wall, dust fell off the wall, and the wooden doors and windows were engraved with traces of time. In the multi-tone, the main entrance opened a deep and shallow crack, like wrinkles covered the old man's forehead, and the scales and tiles on the roof were covered with moss. Time has aged the old house. It is like a candle.

Now, the old house that has experienced decades of wind and rain is about to face the third change in life. The planning line of the expressway just surrounds the old house in the line, and the old house is about to face the worst and greatest sacrifice in life. Without the old house, I will lose my soul. How can I tear it down? But I know the truth that "tearing down my home will bring happiness to thousands of families in Qian Qian". In the face of that old house full of memories and thoughts, I will support it to achieve greatness.

The Old House is a history book that records the rise and fall of our family. It records our golden childhood and the years when our parents worked hard for this family. It is full of parents' love, all our joys and sorrows, and my thoughts. Although there will be no old house in the future, the warmth, happiness and beauty left by the old house will lie quietly in the long river of my memory forever. ...