On Na Yue's essays in those years.

If unforgettable memories are always kept in the depths of the soul, it is the mountain village in my hometown. Memories of those years and months will always come to mind quietly in the dead of night through thoughts as thin as cicadas. Every time I wake up from my dream, I will choose to stand by and watch the direction of my hometown. At this time, I know that my heart has already flown to my hometown.

Because I miss you, I will try to find the past bits and pieces from my heart. Those years and months will be closely linked with my hometown. A mountain, a river; Some people and things, like clear images, emerge over and over again. At that moment of memory, I knew what loneliness was.

When I left my parents, I was like a wandering wanderer. I can choose to make my life better through hard work and struggle, and I can also find the right person to form a warm home. However, in my heart, I miss my hometown, but it always hangs over my heart. I know this is a feeling that I will remember and a love that I care about.

I remember once upon a time in my hometown, my father got up every summer when the morning light was a little tipsy and the stars in the sky were still shining. He packed up his work in the field and led the mule out of the house. At that time, the village was still asleep and the earth was silent. The clear hoofbeat coming from the mountain road, like the "tick" of the hour, slowly disappeared in the ear. The field at home is far from the mountain village, and it takes my father a long time to get there. That land is my grandfather's painstaking efforts and my father's lifeblood. It's like the most precious legacy my grandfather left my father. Since my father took over, he has tied himself firmly all his life. Father knows its importance, which is not so much the dependence of bringing home the bacon as the sacred mission inheritance. Father loves that land as much as his own children. My father goes to that land all year round. How many footprints my father left on this land, I'm afraid even my father himself can't count. In this way, winter went to summer, and spring came to Qiu Lai. Although years have aged my father's face, my father's love for the land will never be erased.

In my impression, my father is kind. I am his only daughter and the youngest child in the family. My father has always been particularly fond of me. Since I was born, I have been carefree, like a little princess. Father is reluctant to eat or wear, but he still tries his best to meet my requirements. At that time, in rural areas, girls' education level was generally low, and the phenomenon of dropping out of school was common, not to mention the father had three children. The poverty at home has made it difficult for mom and dad to afford the education expenses of three children, but dad still sent me to school without hesitation. From primary school, middle school to university, my father always encouraged me to study and never let me give up my studies. Although my father didn't say anything, I could read his mind from the eyes he sent me to school. Father hopes that when I grow up, I won't be a rural woman with my back to the loess all my life. He and his mother want me to leave the isolated mountain village and live in the outside world.

I lived up to my father's expectations. When I showed my father the college admission notice, my father smiled and touched my head gently. His smile is bright and proud. "My baby is promising", this simple sentence seems to tell what my father has buried in his heart for many years. I walked out of the mountain village with my father's hope. After I left, there was no one at home, and the children's laughter could no longer reverberate in the yard. I can think of my father and mother alone in the sunset. Children grow up, parents are old, and deep wrinkles, like traces of time, have already been printed on their fathers' foreheads.

After graduating from college, I stayed in the city. In my restless youth, colorful cities attract me more than poor and backward villages. But in order to fulfill my filial piety as a child, I also want to go back to my hometown, because my two brothers are not with my parents now, and I also know that my elderly parents need to be taken care of. However, my father, who has always been kind, disagreed. Instead of letting me go back to my hometown, he firmly supported me to settle in the city. I can't convince my father because I don't want to live up to his expectations. Later, I wanted to take my parents to live in the city, but my father didn't agree. He said that he had lived in a mountain village all his life and could not adapt to the noise of the city. In fact, I know that at that time, my father could not leave the land he loved.

It's hard for me to remember my father when he was young, but his aging appearance is always imprinted on my mind. Sometimes, I dream about me and my father. He is still smiling at me and even stroking my head gently. But facing my father's smile, I shed tears. Suddenly, I woke up from my dream. I know I will never go back to my childhood, and my father will never go back to the past.

two

If a person can devote his life and everything to a family, including shouldering all the family burdens and having children for this family, then my mother has definitely done all this. Mother has been living this life since she married her father. In the village of hometown, people still follow the life custom of "men plow and women weave" handed down from generation to generation. Men farm outside to support their families, while women do housework and teach children at home. Mother works hard. Every busy day, she will prepare dry food and water for her father in the field, then send him away and start doing housework. Washing clothes, carrying water, cooking, watering the vegetable garden, seemingly insignificant housework, almost occupied all my mother's time. From spring to autumn, from winter to summer, in my eyes, only my mother is busy. Mother's body is very thin, but she has done everything for this family. Today's mother, like the sunset, is getting old.

Years of scars, I do not know when my mother's sideburns have been stained with frost, and deep wrinkles unconsciously covered my mother's forehead.

I can't remember my mother when she was young, just as I can't remember the adobe house where I lived as a child. I only heard my father say that my mother was beautiful when she was young. The passage of time is like a blink of an eye, so that my mother can never return to her brilliant and moving youth. Today's mother, like her father, has an aging face. Even in dreams, you are still not young.

My childhood was carefree, just like a bird nestled under the wings of my parents. I like to cling to my mother since I was a child. Whether she carries water, cooks, washes clothes or waters vegetable fields, I dance around her like a little butterfly. My mother, like my father, always regards me as the apple of her eye. At that time, the villagers' life was not rich, but I was as happy as a little princess. Later, I went to school. Every time after school, mother always waits for us to come back for dinner. The smoke from cooking at home always rises in the afterglow of the sunset, as if calling us home. I know, that's the cigarette cooked by my mother, and it's also the most precious memory of my youth.

Sometimes, I also sigh that my time in my hometown is really short. /kloc-the flower season of 0/8 is like an eternal watershed in my life, and all my hometown memories seem to have become the past in this year. That is, in this year, I left my hometown where I was born and raised, and went to study in a different place thousands of miles away. I know that in this year, everything about teenagers has become the past, and I must learn to grow up. When I left, my mother specially combed my hair. For the first time, I found my mother's hand shaking slightly. I looked in the mirror and found a little light shining in my mother's eyes. I know it must be my mother's tears. My mother is worried that as her favorite daughter, I have to leave now, and my mother's heart is hard to give up and maternal love is hard to express.

When I go to college and settle down in the city, I often think of my mother, and then my heart will be faint and sour. Especially after having a daughter, I understand my mother's difficulties better. Only by bringing up children can we know the kindness of parents. Parents' love for their children is always vast, so I will always feel this kind of unrequited feeling.

Whenever I face the full moon outside the window, I always like to recall those past times. These times are like constant scars fixed in the depths of memory, which makes me sigh the passage of time, the passage of time. No one will forget the past time, just as no one will forget himself. Although the past will not reappear, it will still remind me of the past rings.

Those years I have experienced, like wind, like rain, like smoke, like fog, once inadvertently broke into my mind, it would make me feel very nostalgic.

three

If the passing of time can bring me a little sadness, it is nothing more than thinking of a person's departure. A thin figure, two lines of deep eyes, has already crossed the tunnel of time and quietly entered the depths of the soul. Whenever I go back to my hometown and see the old house on the edge of the village that is slowly becoming short and desolate in the sunset, I can't help but feel sad. At this moment, I deeply understand what loneliness means.

The owner of this old house is an ordinary empty nester. He is not talkative and eccentric, but he and his father became close friends. We all call him Uncle Zhang. Uncle Zhang's wife died young, and his only son had already left the mountain village to work in the city. He is lonely in my impression. Whenever night comes, the window sill of the old house will flash with dim lights. I know this light is the only one who accompanies him. Year after year, day after day, only this lamp has been with him. When I was a child, I couldn't understand how such a lonely old man spent every day lonely and desolate.

I was a child when I first met Uncle Zhang. It was my father who took my little hand to visit his house. I was not impressed with him at that time, except that he had a short beard on his chin and silver hair on his head. When uncle Zhang saw me, his face was filled with a loving smile. He was about to embrace me with open arms. I cried with a loud "wow" and quickly hid behind my father. "Oh, I scared the children." Perhaps it was my crying that made Uncle Zhang's face melancholy, and he sighed. I still hide behind my father and dare not look him in the eye. Father also sighed. At that moment, time seemed to freeze. Finally, in the sound of my crying to go home, my father had to hold my hand, bid farewell to Uncle Zhang and take me home.

My behavior may make my father very depressed and he hasn't taken me to Uncle Zhang's house for a long time.

When I grew up, I went to school. I remember when I first went to school, I was as naughty as usual. One summer vacation, when I was playing in Houshan, I accidentally fell down the hillside because I was chasing a pheasant. At that time, I felt as if my left leg was broken, and the terrible pain made me sit on the ground and cry. My brother carried me home, my father worked in the fields, and my mother couldn't see the doctor, so I had to invite Uncle Zhang, who had some simple medical skills. This is the second time I have seen Uncle Zhang. I clearly saw a trace of melancholy in the corner of uncle Zhang's eye, and this kind of melancholy still makes me remember it vividly until now. Uncle Zhang looked at my leg very carefully, and then gently pinched my leg bone with his hand. Then he said, "Don't worry, there is no bone injury. Just stay at home for a few days. " Uncle Zhang's eyes are full of kindness and his tone of voice is calm. For the first time, I thought he was amiable, just like his father.

Perhaps there is a kind of gratitude in my heart, perhaps because of a rebirth and two acquaintances. From then on, I was no longer afraid of Uncle Zhang, so I followed my father to visit his house.

Since then, every time I come home from school, I always look at Uncle Zhang's home out of the corner of my eye. Uncle Zhang's home is very simple, maybe it's just because he lives alone, but it's very clean. In my impression, whenever my father goes to work in the field in the morning, Uncle Zhang's door will be open. He started a busy day, cleaning, steaming, cooking and watering the small vegetable garden behind the house like his mother. His life is simpler than mine. According to my father, a bowl of rice and a dish can be eaten as a meal. In my impression, uncle Zhang's life was like this until I grew up.

Uncle Zhang likes growing corn. Every spring, he plants a row of corn in his yard. When autumn comes, these corn seedlings will grow their ears. Under the long leaves swaying in the wind, the corncob is like a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes, full and attractive. Uncle Zhang likes baking corn. Whenever the corn is ripe, he cooks at home. With the crackling sound, a faint fragrance floated in the room. To tell the truth, I like the taste, and it also stimulates my appetite. Every season, I will find an excuse to go to his house and ask him to bake me some ears of corn. Uncle Zhang smiled, then went to the corn seedlings, broke off a few ears of corn, removed the leaves and baked them on his own small stove. Those roasted ears of corn soon became food in my stomach. "If you want to eat, come here again." He always looks at me and says. I just wiped my mouth, promised and ran out.

As I grew up, I left my hometown. I seldom see uncle Zhang again every time I go home. Father said that he was in poor health and was picked up by his son who settled in other places. In this way, uncle Zhang's impression gradually blurred in my heart. After a period of forgetting, my father called me to tell me the news of Uncle Zhang's death, and I was able to salvage bits and pieces of his past from the deep sea of memory. His house, his yard, and the delicious roasted corn, like old photos, played repeatedly in front of my eyes. At that moment, when I realized that I would never see him again, two crystal tears fell from my eyes.

Uncle Zhang's grave is at the foot of the mountain. Every year on the anniversary of his death, his son will come back from other places and burn a stick of incense and some paper money on his grave. The house where he lived has been preserved, and with the erosion of the sun and the moon, it has already become desolate. The yard where corn was once planted is now overgrown with weeds. This old house is like a dead old man who will never wake up.

The village in my hometown has changed. The low and shabby old house has now become a brick house, but the only thing that remains unchanged is the memory of the past. This memory is eternal and precious. Like the waves in my heart. Whenever aftertaste, there will be emotional ripples, with the passage of time, the longer Mika. In this memory, there are always mountains and rivers in my hometown, simple parents and folks, and unforgettable years, Na Yue and that time. ...