Affectionate lyric prose of old house

20 1 1 September, the raging autumn rain grew wildly, affecting the countryside and the people. Walls fall and houses collapse, which can be seen everywhere. Solid brick walls are staggered occasionally, not to mention the earth walls of farmers' houses. The earth wall of my old house is even more doomed.

When I got a call from my father, I hurried back to my old house. The collapsed courtyard wall is a mess, with broken bricks, mottled walls and old broken doors and windows, giving people a bleak feeling. Only a few lines of green in the courtyard add a bit of pleasure to my heart.

It pains me to look at that desolate old house.

At the end of 1960s, after three years' hardships, my father, who had basically recovered, was prepared to be self-reliant and build his own "comfort zone" for his wife, children and young people by virtue of his strong physique and special endurance. Pull soil, hit huskies, buy wood, buy bricks, and everything is ready. Grandpa left when he broke ground. I was five years old and my sister was two years old. I remember my father's silence. My father's sky fell, my father bit his teeth, and after burying my grandfather, my penniless father wiped away the tears on his face. With the help of his brothers, he managed to build five new North Houses, which were among the best in the planning area at that time. I clearly remember that my father was like a tireless ox, working in the fields during the day. After dinner, he used a small flatbed car to pull the bucket and took me, a little man who was not sensible, to buy water in a pond in a foreign village. When I came back, I lit lanterns (which were lighting tools at that time), let my mother get off work, and learned to build bricks, grey walls and lay kang indoors. The sun rises and sets, repeating its own trajectory. After half a year, we finally moved into a new house. Fate seems to have played a joke on my father. Before long, my grandmother who lived with me day and night followed my grandfather. It's really worse In just one year, the 25-year-old father suffered the heartbreaking pain of losing his loved ones twice, and the deep ditch of the years covered his forehead in the blink of an eye. In a short period of one year, my father propped up a blue sky of life for us with his broad shoulders and his unique vitality in poverty and hardship. On New Year's Eve that year, I will never forget that other people's families were happy for the New Year, while my creditors were sitting at home, forcing my dad to pay his debts. In desperation, the honest and frank mother called several neighbors and disposed of the only pair of valuable autumn wooden boxes at a very cheap price. The creditor left with a few dollars for selling boxes, and mom and dad cried bitterly. I don't remember how I spent the New Year. Later, my mother told me that my father went to Yanchi to pull nitrate, risked his life to drill coal mines, and worked hard for three years to pay off the debt. My mother often said that those three years were the second "three years of hardship" that my father spent with her. The old house embodies the hardships and tiredness of parents, which cannot be described in words. What is certain is that the old house is a "comfortable nest" for parents to shelter their children from the wind and rain with their lives. So much so that in 2000, I built a new house and asked my parents to move in, but they refused. My mother said that the old house has earthen walls, earthen houses, grounding gas and raising people. I know they have deep feelings for their old house, and they are reluctant to leave the old house where they have worked so hard all their lives. After all, my parents still live in a new house, but my mother is afraid that the old house will be old and lonely, and she will visit it every day. Later, the yard of the old house became her parents' garden. When people walk into the empty old house in the yard, they have a little vitality.

It pains me to look at that desolate old house.

My childhood footprints are everywhere in the old house, and grandma's care for me and my sisters is everywhere. Now my eyes are full of deep thoughts about my grandmother. The wind seemed to hear my painful sobs. At that time, grandparents died one after another, and the new house was difficult to complete, so that although parents tried their best to support their families, the family still couldn't open the pot, and my father had to leave his hometown and embark on the road of working. Mother shouldered all the burdens of the family. Play with my sister and friends in the village during the day. Eat dried sweet potatoes prepared by mom when you are hungry, and drink cold water when you are thirsty. Mother is often amused by our dirty touch, which makes her feel sad. Mother works in the fields during the day, but she doesn't learn to deduct work points at night in political night school. I remember several times that my sister and I cried for fear of the night, and finally curled up in front of the yard and fell asleep. Like an unattended wild child. Mother's eyes were blurred by tears many times. Grandma was so distressed that she resolutely quit her light job as a spectator, which everyone envied at that time, to look after my sister and me. Since then, the empty house has added a lot of warmth and sweetness. I clearly remember that my grandmother took her little food to the old house and distributed it to my sister and me in various ways, but she drank light dried potato soup. I clearly remember that my grandmother took out her savings and bought a spinning wheel for her family. In the dim light or bright moonlight, grandma sat in front of the spinning wheel and "buzzed" the surrounding cotton threads one by one. My sister and I also entered a sweet dream with the lullaby hummed by the spinning wheel. Grandma's spinning wheel is sometimes low and startled by the stars, and sometimes the engine is high and makes the morning glow. Grandma's spinning wheel creaked, spinning away all the difficulties of the house and spinning out a new look of the house. My sister and I are getting more and more ruddy with sallow and emaciated faces; I clearly remember how many times my sister and I lay on my grandmother's warm back and listened to her tell the story of the Goddess Chang'e flying to the moon, the story of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl, and the story of the wolf coming. Lying on grandma's back, I counted the stars in the sky with my little hand. Grandma's back was bent by my sister's childhood and mine. In our old house, grandma's hair was dyed white by years. Grandma in the old house has brought us so much interest in life, and there are countless anecdotes that I will never forget. Unfortunately, my grandmother died before I could repay her. My mother told me that when my grandmother died, she called my birth name again and again in a weak voice. My mother's words greatly shocked my heart. Grandma is gone, and I can't wake up my dearest grandma by crying loudly. I can't afford to kneel down and call back grandma's kind smile. The only thing I can do is that Tomb-Sweeping Day goes to grandma's grave to burn incense and paper every year, in exchange for grandma's understanding and mind. Love me deeply, love me, nurture me, and teach my grandmother. Whether in the old house or in the new house, your grandson will silently pay homage in front of your portrait on holidays, forever. Grandma left and went to the kingdom of heaven far away, but I stood in front of the old house and vaguely saw grandma's kind smile and busy back. .....

The desolate old house is full of childhood laughter and happiness, despite the years of worrying about food and clothing. The desolate old houses everywhere have brought my children a carefree childhood in the atmosphere of bumper crops and bright spring. The old house has experienced decades of ups and downs, carving the past years and witnessing the changes of the times.

The old house is full of affection and warmth, and I am deeply moved by the warmth of the scenes in the old house.

The long-lost sunshine shines warmly, making my heart warm. I stood by the broken wall of the old house and rebuilt my parents' smiles with my own hands, making the vicissitudes of the old house bloom quietly in my heart, fragrant and elegant, and become an eternal landscape.