Uncle and aunt and the distant Juren village

My childhood was barren. From small to large, it is a low thatched house with a reed pond at the door.

My mother told me that this reed pond used to be the place where my fifth master lived. In the past six years, there was a famine. My fifth master bathed in the pond behind the house, so thin that he couldn't climb ashore and drowned. Leave this house. As far as I can remember, there are lush reeds and several mulberry trees with thick bowls on the house, and no one has ever lived there. The dog days are extremely hot, and a pool of cold water in the pond is particularly attractive. So I dare not go down to take a shower. My mother said to me, "there are leeches, worms and toads biting children's legs in shallow water, and there are water ghosts with red eyes and green noses in deep water."

The hot and humid summer is long and hard. There are weeds around the house. The shade is covered with moss, which is thick green, slippery and dirty. A few chicken droppings stuck to it, and mosquitoes flew around.

Rainstorms in summer come and go quickly. After a storm, reed leaves are green, covered with glittering and translucent water drops, and all kinds of flowers and plants are shaking. A little higher revealed the land washed clean by rain, lying naked on it, enjoying the coolness of the soil and smelling its unique fragrance. When I woke up, I was bitten by sand on my back, and mosquitoes bit out a dense rash. The released toxin made me itch and fidgety all over, sitting on the ground blankly, watching the sun swaying and falling on the treetops like a fire.

"Come flat, go home for dinner." This is my mother calling me. Our pot is a 50-foot pot, and there is an earthen stove to burn firewood. Pour a pot of sweet potato every time you can fill it with water, and the water will boil. This pot of rice is also eaten by people and pigs. A family can't eat a few bowls, so the rest are mixed with a few spoonfuls of rice straw noodles, which are for pigs. I don't want to eat the same meal all year round. After a long time, malnutrition appeared. His face was yellow and emaciated, and his thin legs supported his bulging stomach. Father and mother followed in a hurry. Neighbors often persuade my father to send me to my uncle's house for a few days. Maybe my uncle's food is better than ours.

My uncle fled in his early years and fled to Datong Mine in Huainan to dig coal. People around me say that my uncle earns money and eats commodity grain. Listening more often, my uncle has an image in his heart. I think my uncle should be tall and burly, as fat as my second uncle in the front yard.

In the late autumn of that year, my father finished planting wheat and doing farm work in the field, and took me to my uncle's house. When I walked out of the village and looked back, it was a strange village. My father led me from home to the north through three sections of land, through Xiangyang Bridge, phosphate fertilizer plant, water conservancy station and to the bus station. It's the first time to meet so many strangers. My father and I got on this huge bus and got on the legendary train in my heart. After a night of turbulence, when my father and I walked out of the exit of Huainan Station, the night was thick and the street lamps were flashing light orange. In the dark sky, several stars are still flashing. We crossed the square in front of the railway station, came across the road, stood in front of the stop sign marked No.6 and waited. From time to time, buses stop, and people get on and off. The door slammed and the "rumble" of the motor disappeared into the night before dawn with the bus. I heard voices chirping around, which I had never heard before, and it was not the accent of our village. The cars I saw were large and small, lined up and uninterrupted, just like our chickens and ducks squeezed out of the circle door. I feel more novel than grandma Liu saw when she entered the Grand View Garden.

A passenger car leaned over, but it hasn't stopped yet. A girl stretched out her curly hair from the window and shouted, "The bus to Jiulonggang-Datong Juren Village has left." Juren Village is a familiar name to me. I knew from an early age that it was the place where my uncle dug coal, which was far away! Far away places that need to be reached by train.

When the bus stopped again, my father pushed my arm with his hand and said to me, "Here we are, at your uncle's house." A storm came out of the car door. When I got on the bus just now, there were few moon stars. When I got off, I stood in the rustling autumn rain. Oblique rain fell from the sky, accumulated into a trickle and flowed into the low-lying roadside grass. My father led me along the road to journey to the south, and I saw red tile houses all around, which were particularly fresh and bright after being washed by rain. I think this red tile house is much better than our thatched cottage. My father and I go north, turn left and then go north. In a place with a faucet, we turned into an alley and pushed open a small wooden door with a single door. We saw my uncle and his family sitting together for breakfast. There are golden fried dough sticks and mung bean porridge in the aluminum basin on the small table. I smell sesame oil in dried carrots. I know that the old man is an aunt and uncle. My uncle is not as tall and burly as I thought, nor fat, but a thin old man.

After that, every winter vacation, my father sent me to my uncle's house for a few days, and my mother said, "Go. Enjoy two days at your uncle's house. " After my father saw me off several times, I could go by train when I was older. Whenever dusk falls, walk out of Huainan station exit, cross the road, get on minibus No.6 at No.6 station, get off and walk through three rows of public toilets. After seeing the faucet, turn right. The fifth house is my uncle's house. Pushing open the scarlet single wooden door, menstruation saw me with a kind smile. My uncle is sitting in a wicker chair singing a book, with his head down and his eyes swept over the reading glasses: "Pinger is coming." I responded happily. My uncle's voice is as high and thin as my father's. When my sisters and brothers heard these voices, they walked out of their room, and laughter and voices filled the yard.

Teenagers think that life is so long, so slow that it crawls like a snail and doesn't grow up. Since adulthood, there have been more burdens and responsibilities on the shoulders, life is fleeting, and spirit and material are inadvertently exhausted between possession and loss.

I haven't been to my uncle's house for a long time. My uncle's house is the Eden of my childhood, and Juren Village is also my dream place.

This summer, I was quite depressed and in a trance. Following the doctor's advice, I gave up all my work and went to my uncle's house according to my childhood route. Feel the feeling of flying as a child again. Originally, it was only about five hours' drive from home to Huainan, but I still followed the route more than twenty years ago: I started from home at eight in the morning, passed through Ji Geng, Xuzhou, Bengbu and Shuijiahu to Huainan, and then took the No.6 bus to Juren Village. When I got off the bus and stood in this familiar and strange place, what I saw in front of me was not what I remembered. It happened that the melons and fruits on the roadside were still there, but they were replaced by a hostess of about fifty years old. The owner of the melon and fruit stall in my memory is an old man in his sixties. If he runs it now, he is an old man. I think this is the offspring of the old man? Maybe it's another fruit stand that has changed many people.

I look for my uncle's home according to my childhood memories. At this time, turn left from the fruit stand and walk past the small stone bridge, and you will see a wide cement road. On both sides of the road, plane trees are stacked, and the broad plane leaves are flapping in the wind. Beside the public toilet in the middle of the road, farmers have long been pulling dung carts and carrying dung buckets to collect dung. The stinky dung burden creaks. Passed me by. There are all kinds of iron buckets, wooden buckets and plastic buckets filled with water in front of the tap water pipe.

Today, what I see is completely different. It is surrounded by ruins. Bricks and cement blocks are piled up on the road. In the distance, yellow dust flies, and the red tile quadrangles on both sides of the road have long since disappeared. But I clearly remember that my uncle's home is in the north-northwest direction of the site. So I went back to the scene and started to go north, then west and then north. After walking for a long time, I still didn't find any marks in my memory. I think I'm lost and I can't find my uncle's home.

But I clearly remember that there is a water pipe in the west of my uncle's house. Every morning, my uncle will fill two buckets of water, shaking his hands and pouring the water into the water tank. I want to find the water pipe, and I will find my uncle's home. So I saw someone carrying a bucket and ran over and asked, "Excuse me? Where did you take the water? " The other party didn't answer, just pointed to the direction. But I didn't find the water pipe after all, let alone my uncle's house.

I still remember that there was a tall chimney not far from my uncle's house, which kept smoking white smoke. So I'm looking for a tall chimney that can see white smoke. Sure enough, in the north-northwest area, there are towering chimneys emitting white smoke, and white characters are written on the chimneys. I hurried past messy cement roads, ridges and soybean fields. When I walked by, the chimney was covered with screws, just like grapes on vines, and there was a big dark gear turning above the chimney. There are three small chimneys next to the big chimney, red, yellow and blue columns of smoke. I know this is not the chimney I am looking for.

I sat down and thought for a while: when I got off the bus, the fruit stand I saw was much smaller than I remembered. The business is getting bigger and bigger, how can it get smaller and smaller? This may not be the original fruit stand? Isn't it the same place? Maybe the bus stop has moved forward.

So I went back to the construction site of Juren Village, and a small bus came and stopped. There are still three or two people going up and three or two people coming down. The fruit stand is long gone. I walked back in the direction where the bus came. In the evening, the sun shines orange, and all the fields change color. Through the vast farmland covered with thick green, I saw a small courtyard with red tiles in the north-northwest area. There is also a tall chimney with thick white smoke. I think this will definitely lead to my uncle's house. It was already dark when I went in, and it was quiet all around. Sure enough, I saw the tap on the roadside. Turn right along this place, walk into the alley, count to the fifth house, and push open the scarlet wooden door. Suddenly, two tall and ugly women jumped out of it and dragged me into the yard. I struggled and struggled, and finally escaped from the yard. Accidentally bumped into a small black door, and a long cylindrical lantern hung from the door frame to the ground, with the words "Yunlai Inn" flashing on it. I also think this is the best place for me to stay tonight. He pushed open the door with a creak and went in. The shopkeeper is a kind old woman and let me live in a small bungalow on the left. The blooming cockscomb came in from the window of the bungalow, and the scarlet swayed by the window, shaking down many flower seeds.

The old woman watched a tenant move in and was always very happy and busy, pouring water for me to make tea. It was not until I fell asleep in a daze that the old woman took the door out.

Melodious bamboo flute sounded in front of the door. In this silent night, the bamboo flute fluttered as if it were still there, pouring out endless joys and sorrows in the world.

The crescent moon slowly falls, and the moonlight shines on the ground through the window lattice. The black shadow of the tree, coupled with the bright white moonlight, moved up a little and landed on the wall that I could reach. Is it almost dawn?

I feel sleepy and my head sinks. I pushed open the familiar vermilion wooden door again and saw my aunt sitting in the yard picking vegetables. The plastic bag is full of bought tofu and bean cakes-and a few lively small white silver carp. As usual, my uncle looked at me kindly and smiled. My uncle is still sitting on the yellow cane chair, singing with a book in his hand, and his voice is as sharp as my father's.

The huge vibration of the excavator knocked me out of bed and woke me up. I rushed out of the room before I got dressed. At noon, the sun made me unable to open my eyes, and it was surrounded by dust and smoke. I see an old shop not far away. The signboard on the door has been there for several years, and the handwriting on it is blurred, but I can still recognize the words "Juren Village Agency Store", and the yellow words have been painted red. I walked in and saw some big glass bottles on the dim counter, which contained some small things like lollipops, bubble gum and glass beads. I have a feeling of deja vu. On the small bed behind the counter, a white-haired old lady lay half-lying. Seeing someone enter the store, I quickly got up and leaned against the counter. My muddy eyes glanced at me: "I look familiar, but I can't remember where I have seen it." I asked her about some changes in Juren Village over the years, and told her by the way that the names of my uncle and aunt are taboo. She closed her eyes and thought for a while, then patted her head and said, "I remember, I remember, you are the nephew of Lao Li's hometown." When I was a child, I often came. I was sallow and emaciated, and my hometown was still poor. You came to your uncle's house for ten days and a half, and then you went back when you got fat ... "

My heart is happy. Interrupt her and ask her about her uncle's house. She didn't seem to hear, and said that when she was young, she often bought vegetables with my aunt, chose flowers together, found the best tailor and made the most fashionable clothes at that time. She said that even I seemed to remember her. I asked her, "Are you the beautiful aunt who often plays with my aunt?" Long hair is dark and bright, and it hangs down to the bottom of the coat. "The old man's eyes are as bright and clear as a girl. He said quickly," Yes, yes. At that time, your aunt and I were young and beautiful, wearing the most fashionable clothes and doing the most popular hairstyles. I am the most beautiful in Juren Village ... "

Regardless of etiquette, I interrupted her several times and asked her about her uncle's family. She finally stopped talking about her age. Her clear eyes became cloudy again. She told me: "In the winter of 2008, the coldest year of freezing rain, your uncle fell out of bed at night and froze to death. Your aunt/kloc-died of cerebral hemorrhage in the spring of 0/2. Alas! They all burned, and a handful of ash was buried on the hillside of Nanshan. " I asked the old man again, "Where have my brothers and sisters moved?" The old man thought about it and told me, "Your elder sister moved to Dongshan, your second sister went to Hefei, and your brother took over your uncle's class and went to Panji Mine."

After reading it, the old man turned to a yellow book. Maybe after a long time, the corners of the book are broken a lot, shaking down like the residual snow blown by the wind.

I don't want to talk to her anymore. I walked out of the shop and looked around, trying to find the past in my memory. Feel someone calling my nickname? Yes, it really calls me. I turned to look for it and saw my sister coming towards me on the ruins. Big sister is old, and old is a bit like an old lady. This figure is not only familiar, but also closer. We stopped and walked on this barren land. My eldest sister said to me, "This place should be the old man's shop, opposite the home appliance maintenance department." After listening to this, I gradually got a direction in my heart. I said, "Yes, I remember. Next door to the old man's shop is the bookstore, and to the right is the intersection, where a fat old man opens a fritter stand. "

When I was standing in a pile of broken bricks, I saw several complete bricks, half of which were painted with vermilion paint. I know this is my uncle's home. At that time, I was carrying a paint bucket, and my uncle was brushing on the bricks outside the door frame. He also said it made the door look spacious. I bent down and picked up a brick with scarlet paint and uncle's breath and put it in my backpack.

My elder sister said to me, "I want to take you to Nanshan to worship the grave of your uncle and aunt." There are so many weeds on the mountain that I can't find my way up. " I said, "I met my uncle and aunt tonight. My uncle is singing on a yellow cane chair, and my aunt is picking vegetables in the yard. They are not aging, they have been looking at me happily. "

At this time, I stood on the ruins of my uncle's yard, and the clear past was vivid in my mind. Close your eyes, and a small courtyard with red tiles and blue bricks will appear in your heart. Aunt wore a coat with red flowers on a black background and floated in the wind, while uncle wore a navy tunic suit. The pen in the small pocket at the top left is shining.

At another stop in Juren Village, a minibus stopped from time to time, with three or two people getting on and three or two people getting off. I know that without my uncle's life in Juren Village, I will never come again in my life. Goodbye, distant Juren Village! Farewell, my uncle and aunt!

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