Distant Prose in Yi 'an Town

No matter how colorful and vicissitudes time depicts a place, no matter how the wind takes you to an isolated island or the horizon. Some places, some scenery, will always flash in time with a gorgeous attitude when memories sneak in. ......

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Yi' an town often reminds me of this. My memory of it is fixed in that year, the year when I practiced as a normal student. And what it left me was the same as that year. I would like to see that year, not only because I am a nostalgic person. I really don't like the way it is now. Pollution is surging: expanding coking plants and coal washing plants surround the whole town, barbecuing, smoking and simmering. The endless progressive tense made the town look ashamed and couldn't see his eyebrows clearly.

199 1 year, as an intern, I came to the primary school in this town. Although it is not far from my hometown, it is not strange to me. But this time, it means more than just location to me. It can be said that it is a starting point of my life, and it has a word "warmth" in my life dictionary. This is a small town with a natural background, surrounded by endless green, which often makes me imagine the town as a ship floating in the sea. And I stand in the cabin, no matter where I stand, my eyes are always bright. Although a new coking plant was built around the town at that time, it was far from its present scale and density. I won't get lost with such a clear route. And those dim lights floating outside the window will pass through the darkness, illuminate the loneliness in my heart and let me see the direction of home. For a moment, I even wanted to give my life.

The school is located in the town east, which is my only foothold in this town. It contains everything about my year, and many firsts are directly related to it. The disappointment of leaving school, the strangeness of the new environment and the uneasiness of boarding the platform for the first time make me like a lonely goose. It was this school that accepted me with the attitude of the sky and gave me a stage to fly. At that time, the town still paid insufficient attention to culture. In their old ideas, it is more practical to add an extra helper to pay for things that can't be seen in the future. The loss of students has become a common occurrence.

At that time, I was in a spring age, preparing lessons and correcting homework during the day. The novelty of my first attempt masked the triviality of my work and paid little attention to those details. The monotonous transformation of dormitory, classroom and office space gradually disappeared in the busy schedule.

If you put yourself in a busy place, there will be only busy days and no other place to put it. In this way, the seemingly monotonous days will not be monotonous, and the time is far less slow than originally thought. The most important thing is to have a tired body and a burning passion. Of course, those innocent eyes support all this!

However, when I am free, loneliness often creeps into my heart. The school playground is a long-term temptation for me when I am free. I especially like the playground covered by moonlight. It is a pause for my busy day, a good medicine to relieve loneliness and a reward for monotonous life.

On summer nights, I will watch the stars disappear one by one in the moonlight, and listen to how all kinds of insect sounds overflow the grass and spread around. The cool breeze blowing from my ear blows the willows around the playground, and the rustling sound reaches my ears through the darkness, like soft words, which makes me feel kind and happy. Occasionally, the sound of trains coming from the south of the city makes me feel that I have not been abandoned by the city. The town is just a post station in my life. I like night, or rather, I like peace. Just like a peaceful picture in ancient times. In this quiet Malaysian Miri, time is at my disposal. On the fragrant night of spring, I can lie on my desk and write a diary to record the footprints of my youth; On a snowy night, I can write down a few experiences with a radiator to witness my growth. Those lonely nights that are almost isolated from the outside world are full of excitement with these decorations. Now, in the noisy and neon-exaggerated city, even at night, it is rare to have such a low-key peace.

In the primary school in the town, in those busy days, among those innocent and kind children, I saw the innocence that was not soaked by the world, so that I could show some love to the students in the town. I don't know whether the schools in the small town are the same as yesterday. Is there that kind of low-key tranquility in the playground at night? But there must be my breath and my temperature. ......

Since then, my feet have never set foot in the school, but my thoughts often fly by. When the streets are free, I like to walk on the streets of small towns. The streets of the town are not complicated, and the two main roads, north and south, east and west, are straightforward, just like the character of a cultivator. Uneven tile houses are scattered on the left, right and left of the road, and the wall of the street gate is divided independently. Yellow corn on weeping willow branches and red pepper looming under the eaves always evoke some imagination beyond the object itself. From time to time, the voices of pots and pans, chickens, pigs and dogs will unfold some life scenes in imagination. Small business vendors are like flowers blocked on both sides of the road, and some bargaining sounds with strong hometown dialects give these flowers vitality.

This town is small, but it has everything. Just like in the days of farmers, nothing can be eaten or drunk. Occasionally, I will see a dog wagging its tail and swaggering around in the street, or squatting in front of the store and watching people come and go. At the end of the road, the flickering green in those fields will always arouse some desires. On the main road of the town, a narrow and deep alley will suddenly escape, like an episode in the article, and you can't follow it. The road surface is not hardened, and it feels closer to the earth when you step on it. The low courtyard wall can't keep the secret of the courtyard; The open street gate shows the details of the small courtyard vividly. In that house, I saw several women sitting under a jujube tree in the yard, holding insoles, talking and laughing from time to time, rippling in the afterglow of the sunset. Not far from them is a cow, eating grass spread out on the ground one by one, as if laughter had nothing to do with it. A few chickens are flapping and chasing around the woman, and I don't know whether it is because of frolicking or because of love; The clothes hanging on the wire are like flags spread out on one side, and the setting sun shines on them. When the secrets leaked from the street gate reach my vision in the form of pictures, they can always relieve the softness in my heart and give comfort to my family. Narrow alleys and deep winding paths often tempt me to go deep into them. Although I am sometimes frightened by the barking of dogs, the whole alley is like a bait, catching my curiosity until I see the part of the alley with my own eyes.

When it rains, the hardened road surface is washed clean. If it doesn't rain much, I will hold an umbrella in a hazy place, spy on the street scene where I bathe through the rain curtain, see the waterline torn from the tiles under the eaves, and listen to the sound of rain dripping on the natural keys. In these natural bead curtains, there are occasionally scattered farmers carrying farm tools to shuttle through them, with rapid steps, as if chasing raindrops.

On the day of the market, the streets in the town will be crowded with people, animals and stalls. A small town that is not deserted on weekdays is more like a pregnant woman with a big belly proudly. Idle stage, also suddenly lively, incisively and vividly played its role. The body is so big, the drums are ringing, and the bones and muscles of the whole town are shaking.

On summer mornings, I often take my students to do morning exercises and run half the town. Hundreds of people lined up, shouting slogans and stepping on the steps, which was majestic and quite ceremonial. People who get up early in town and rush to factories or fields will stop riding cars or walking steps, take the initiative to give way on both sides of the street and watch us until the team is submerged in a flying dust. Running in the team sometimes has a sense of greatness.

There is nothing special about the street in the town, except that it is very long for me, and it can also reach into my dream through the sun, moon and mountains.

The post office is just south of the school. I mention it, of course, not because of its location, but because it has profound significance to me. At that time, letters were the main tool to communicate with the outside world, and a small post office built a bridge between time and space. My love for green is probably from that post office. Paranoid that no matter what kind of green it is, it is not as charming as the small post office in Yi 'an Town. It is a kind of green that can't be seen at a glance, and it is the green that I have touched countless times. There must be my feelings and temperature on it. Twenty years old is an age that needs love and friendship. Although this town has given me some unprecedented attempts, such as going to the podium and really teaching more than 50 children. And some old things have to rely on letters to last. At that time, it almost became my habit to go to the post office once a week. I fell in love with the post office. On that road, there are countless footprints of mine. There are several telephone poles from the school to the post office. I think I remember them. Sometimes I walk in a hurry, but more often I am leisurely, which is probably close to walking. Because I often choose students to go with the internship life embroidery after class. On that road, in the afterglow of the sunset, a pair of girls holding arms and talking and laughing often appear. Our voice and breath, I think, will also be planted in the blood of this road.

The post office facing east and west is a two-story building. It looks a few years old. I don't quite remember what it looks like, except its green color, especially the big mailbox with skin painted at the door. Iron, with a lock on it. The cracks on it are always waiting to accept one story after another. And I, every time, fold my heavy thoughts and concerns into thin paper, spread it out and pass it on piously. It was the first to spy on my mind, but it wouldn't say, I like its silence. The reason why I don't like giving these to the school postman may be because it is convenient and practical to put them in the mailbox.

We often go inside the post office, saying it is a business hall, but it is far from the size of a hall. The green counter cuts the small area into two pieces. Inside, we are not qualified to go in, only our eyes go in. We handed the wool ticket across the counter and bought eight stamps and two envelopes. There are not many staff in the post office. I only met two people at the counter, a man and a woman, wearing the same green uniform as the mailbox and post office wall, wearing a green hat with a brim and speaking authentic hometown dialect. They have been busy in their hands, and the people coming in and out make the small space look prosperous. What is sent is the wind flower, and the rest is waiting. I left it in sight, but I was thinking about its working process. I have estimated in my mind when the letter will come out of my stomach, when it will be postmarked, when it will be on the way and when it will arrive at its destination. This kind of accuracy established by experience is of little significance now, and some objectivity will not change at all because of subjectivity, but like some habits, once it is formed, it is difficult to change. It is because of its uncertainty that we are often disappointed. After several times, I transferred my desire to get letters from the post office to the postman. Flowing green, under the weight of an old bicycle, appears at the school gate, often igniting the joy in my eyes and making my heart warm.

Now, when I step into Yi 'an town again, it seems that I can still see the postman wandering around the town and the expectant eyes of a girl in the bell. Although all this has been done in blowing in the wind, the scene of Yi 'an Town is still deeply engraved in my heart.