Family story: my old house, my home.

This summer, it rained heavily, one after another, without stopping. My old house collapsed in a heavy rain.

When I first heard the news, tears welled up in my eyes and my heart was empty. I endured it for a long time. There was a voice from the bottom of my heart: it wasn't my old house that fell, but I lost my home.

Since my parents died in 2007 and 2009, the feeling that "my parents are gone, and my life has only the way home" has weighed heavily on me like a stone, making me breathless. Although eldest brother and sister-in-law treat me as always, only I know the feeling of "no home". After my parents died, I was in a daze and never dared to go to the old house and take a walk.

Scene after scene in the old house, lingering, lingering, clear memories come to mind warmly: my father gently chopped firewood, my mother quietly cooked by the stove, and we three brothers and sisters were very busy ... how warm and sweet! Both parents have left, and the old house has collapsed. I don't have a home at all.

My old house was built in the 1970s. The foundation is made of stone and the wall is made of adobe. After several major repairs, the back wall was protected by a layer of red bricks. Parents are just ordinary farmers, pulling our three children, and they have no worries about food and clothing. That's enough!

I remember when I was a child, one morning when I was two or three years old, my father pulled me out of bed, washed my face and hands, and took me to a chair for breakfast. My mother brought me steamed rice in a teacup from my grandmother's house with good living conditions. They can't bear to eat it. They make me a small teacup for breakfast every day. I vaguely remember that the warm sunshine shone into the old house through the open door. Sometimes I admire my memory, and I remember that moment so deeply.

When I was in elementary school, my neighbor pointed at me and said with distress, "Look, this child is as thin as a corn stalk!" " "A few hens raised at home can't finish the eggs laid by others every day, including the eldest brother and younger brother. My mother fried them for me, saying that they would increase my nutrition. My unknown disease has spent all my family's savings and has not been cured. I'm still sick all day. My mother and the school teacher said, "teacher, if I don't take time off every day to accompany you, my child will get sick if he doesn't go to school!" "When I was sick, my parents went out to work and told me to rest at home. I sat on a shuttlecock at home every day, took out Chinese and math books for self-study in the morning, and listened to children's programs and storytelling on the radio in the afternoon. Sometimes I burst into tears and sometimes I laughed. The old house is like my old friend who accompanied me in primary school. In this way, until the fifth grade of primary school, my homework did not fall behind, and my grades were among the best.

Junior high school, the body is still not improving. In fact, there is nothing wrong with me, but I can't eat, I am weak, and I still can't go to primary school. I remember an exam in grade two. I failed the exam completely. I once lost confidence in my study and was confused about my composition. My Chinese teacher wrote in the comments: "Children, don't be discouraged, learn from Sister Zhang Haidi!" At that time, Sister Zhang Haidi was an example for us to learn, and her deeds of being physically disabled and determined encouraged us to study hard. I read the composition and the teacher's comments to my mother. My mother gently stroked my head and said, "Listen to the teacher." Since then, the courtyard of the old house has been filled with the sound of reading. I get up early to read English and Chinese in the yard, and ask the teacher if I don't understand anything in class. Finally, I was admitted to the normal school with excellent results. It was the happiest moment in my family, and I became the first person in my family to eat "treasury grain".

I went to the winter vacation of the first semester of normal school. My mother got cerebral thrombosis and was admitted to the hospital. My father takes care of my mother in the hospital, and I cook for my two younger brothers and take care of my family at home. My classmates learned that my mother was ill and sent cooking to my home. On New Year's Eve, sadness enveloped the old house. My eldest brother and I fought back our tears and wrapped jiaozi in the old house. After cooking, we three brothers and sisters walked and sent jiaozi to mom and dad, looking at mom and dad in the hospital bed. I cried.

After graduating from normal school, I taught in my hometown and became a glorious primary school teacher. My mother walks me out during the day, and at night my mother stands at the alley and waits for me to get off work. Then I went back to my old house with a smile and reported this and that to my mother ... My mother recovered well, her legs were a little lame and her hands were not as flexible as before. Doctors and villagers say that my mother has strong willpower. The old house was full of cheerful laughter from my family, and that time was my happiest.

After I got married, I was very concerned about my parents' health. I went home to visit them every week, but I couldn't move at my parents' house on weekends. Whenever I go home, my mother is full of white hair and hale and hearty. She always sits on the big stool at the door of the old house, staring at the direction I came and looking forward. I asked, "Mom, why aren't you at home?" Mom said, "I just came out!" " "My neighbor's aunt whispered to me," Your mother knew you were coming this weekend and sat here early in the morning! Come early in the future! "In an instant, I was so sad that I fought back my tears and nodded frequently. The old house is like an old man looking forward to his children coming home.

After my parents died, the old house was idle and I never went there again. "But how much love an inch of grass has, and I got three spring rays!" The old house witnessed my growth, with joy and tears, and more importantly, the kindness of parents to our children. Dare not go to the old house, dare not touch the deep sadness of "children have to support, relatives are not there". Old houses, too many. ......

(Follow-up: After the old house collapsed, the younger brothers cleaned it in time, built a wall, and then turned it over. The old house bearing the growth of our family will be rebuilt soon. )