Hutong lyric prose

The hutongs in my hometown are long, light, deep and thin, as if they were full with one arm stretched out. Hard dirt roads are not paved with cement or stone, but they will not be muddy and slippery in rainy days.

I like to walk quietly in hutongs in cool summer or when it rains in late spring. This reminds me of the alley in Dai Wangshu's Rain Lane. It's beautiful, but not that long.

My hometown is in the middle of the hutong. When I was a child, I seldom went to the end of the alley. There lived an old man in the deepest part. On New Year's Day, I followed my neighbor's aunt into the old man's house. The yard is big and empty, with nothing, no pigs, only a few chickens. There is a buttonwood tree at the door, which is lush, forked and complicated. When the flowers bloom, it looks like a small purple trumpet from a distance, and it is like a delicate purple bell, swaying and dancing in the wind. Flowers are stacked on the top of the tree and among the dense leaves. The faint and charming fragrance has always remained in my memory and will never be forgotten.

The hall for the elderly is very high, and you have to step on several stone steps to get up, which is half a wall higher than others' homes. It was dark in the room, where I first saw a Buddha statue with a pottery embryo, a wooden Zhu Xiang, a portrait dedicated to a bodhisattva, and a burning incense. The room was filled with faint smoke, and the pungent smell of fireworks made me dizzy. When I was young, I wanted to escape as soon as possible. In a trance, I only remember the kind smiling face and unfolded wrinkles of the old man. My chapped hand grabbed a handful of red dates and peanuts and stuffed them into my pocket.

Hutong is close to the road. On the fifteenth night of the first month, someone hung a red lantern at the door of his house, so the whole hutong was soaked with a hazy red halo. As you can see, the little girl with pigtails and small coats and the boy with bare head and clear nose are running around the alley with colorful gas and fire in their hands. Hutong suddenly became lively, chasing and fighting everywhere. Occasionally, I heard a few firecrackers in the distance, which was the unfinished firecrackers set off during the Chinese New Year. Most of the doors were open that night. From time to time, there came the laughter of uncles and aunts chatting, shouts of playing cards with uncles and aunts, and even calls for children to go home to eat Yuanxiao. The slender voice kept circling in the alley for a long time.

The one by the roadside in the hutong lives in a sissy and has a son and two daughters. When I was a child, my parents sent me to her home for the New Year, and later called her an empress, that is, a foster mother. At that time, I only thought that there were so many people in his family when eating, drinking porridge and snoring in a big bowl, which was really fragrant.

Later, when I grew up, I stopped screaming when I saw the queen sitting in the alley, but avoided it far away. The queen has a long scar on her nose, just like a blue blood vessel lying there. When she was young, she never felt so dazzling. Sometimes I feel a little sorry when I watch her smile at me. The scar on her nose was hung by her husband with a pole hook. Neighbors laughed at her for being too pedantic because the steamed bread was not cooked. Once again, when she was watering the vegetable garden, only one piece of land was flooded, while the other piece of land was not even wet, so her husband pressed her in the cold canal to fight. People sympathized with her and laughed at her pedantry. After a long time, no one will pay attention.

When I was a child, I heard her driving chickens every evening, which lasted for a long time. Her henhouse is made of brick, like a small tower, but the door is very small. She is always beating and shouting with a bamboo pole, and she is so tired that she sweats. The chickens in the yard "giggle" and feather all over the floor. She has to drive the chicken into the nest before her husband gets off work, or she may get beaten several times.

One year, two years.

Hutong remains the same.

People in hutongs are getting old.

I didn't know the queen was really old until I saw the white hair on her head, but she still smiled so silly. Only when she is old, she won't be beaten again.

Many years later, I will still miss Hutong, and I want to go back to see the dust on Hutong Road, the fragrant phoenix tree flowers, the simple people, the warm things, and the heavy rural memories that remain in my heart.