It’s summer again. I can’t forget my hometown feelings and miss the chirping of cicadas.

It’s summer again, and the most unforgettable thing for me is the chirping of cicadas.

Since I left my hometown to work in the city, I have been surrounded by all kinds of noises every day, and the sound of cicadas seems to be getting farther and farther away from us.

I went home a few days ago and was walking on a country road. Like an order, the sound of cicadas rang out from all directions, one after another, and the sound reached my ears. The cicadas try their best to play the music of life. This familiar voice awakened the feeling of guilt in my heart, filled me with awe for the creatures on the high branches, and brought me back to my innocent and ignorant childhood.

In the summer in the countryside, cicadas chirp tirelessly everywhere.

I remember that during the wheat harvest season, groups of children would take advantage of the moonlight to run to the road at the west end of the village, bring wheat straw, pile it together, and light a fire. Several people hugged the big willow tree on the roadside and shook it vigorously. Amid our laughter, one by one the cicadas faced the light of the fire and fell next to the fire. We picked them up one by one, cut off the cicada feathers, and roasted them on the fire. I remember that the piece of shredded meat on the cicada’s back is the most delicious. The children satiated their greed one by one, talked, laughed, and played, and went back to their homes with satisfaction, and agreed to meet again the next day.

Catching cicada pupae is more interesting. Especially at night after it rains, the children each find a can and meet in the woods outside the village or on the roadside. Without a flashlight, I used the moonlight to collect the cicada pupae that had just emerged from the ground and climbed onto the treetops into a bottle. Some children are impatient and find the entrance of the cicada pupa hole and use a small stick to directly dig out the cicada pupa.

In one night, dozens of them can be caught.

The more I searched, the more interested I became. I had to wait until someone shouted at the top of my lungs before they all hurried home. After arriving home, I quickly poured out the cicada pupae and soaked them in salt water one by one. I let the poor little creatures struggle in the salt water before falling asleep sweetly.

By the next morning, the cicada had stopped moving. After washing with clean water several times, put oil in the pot and heat it up. With the sound of "squeaking", the cicada pupae turned golden yellow. Eat it in your mouth, it's delicious and crispy. In that era when we couldn't eat a single meal of meat all year round, roasted cicadas and fried cicada pupae became our heaven-sent delicacies.

Not only did the cicada satisfy our craving, but the leather pants left on the branches after the cicada transformed also brought us many surprises. Every Sunday, the children go together to find cicadas. I heard that cicada slough is a very valuable medicinal material. I don’t remember how much I could sell it for in one summer. I just remember that after I saved half a bag, my mother sold it in exchange for a few pencils, which were enough for us to use for a while. Perhaps God favored the children of that era, because there were so many cicadas. Throughout the summer, the children were immersed in the joy brought by the cicadas.

It wasn’t until I went to middle school and studied Fabre’s “Cicada” that I truly understood the life of the cicada. Since the day cicadas lay eggs, they have gone through many hardships and only a small number of cicada eggs have survived. Surviving cicada eggs begin to live in the soil, digging tunnels. After four years of darkness, he had the opportunity to emerge from the ground. After transformation, he climbed up a branch and saw light for a month. It was also at that time that I realized why the cicada sang at the top of its lungs. Four years of hard work underground were exchanged for one month of singing to the fullest. From then on, every time I heard the sound of cicadas, I would feel a sense of self-blame in my heart, and naturally developed a sense of awe towards cicadas.

One day after our youngest son entered elementary school, we took him to a restaurant for dinner. I ordered the "Golden Cicada" dish, with several golden cicadas lying on the snow-white vermicelli. Maybe we often tell him the story of the cicada. When this dish came, my son pursed his lips, looking angry and helpless. We push this dish away from ourselves and refuse to eat without moving our chopsticks. After we figure out the reason, we can no longer taste the same taste. "This little life has been underground for several years. Before it has seen the light of day, it has been made into vegetables and sold. I won't eat it. Whoever likes it will eat it!" I hugged my son and promised him: In this life, my mother will never be the same again. I won’t eat this dish anymore. Looking at my innocent and kind-hearted son, I feel mixed emotions in my heart.

I felt deeply remorseful for my past ignorance, my past cruelty, and my past stubbornness, and a sense of guilt and awe arose spontaneously.

Throughout the ages, many literati have described themselves as noble cicadas. "Hands hanging down to drink clear dew, the sound of flowing tung trees. Standing loud and far away is not borrowing the autumn wind." Yu Shinan's "Cicada" made me understand that cicada was once the incarnation of a noble person, drinking clear dew and singing tall willows. The unknown struggle has brought about the brightness of January. If we don’t sing now, when will we wait? Therefore, there is no need to rely on any external force, just sing to your heart's content, sing about light, sing about hope, sing about life. This high-pitched and loud singing voice is purely relying on your own silently accumulated strength to spread the song to farther places. Luo Binwang, a poet of the Tang Dynasty, said: "The cicadas sing in the west, and the guests in the southern crown are deep in thought." "No one believes in nobleness, who can express it to the heart." "The first break. Drinking without emotion in the Dumen tent" all use cicadas to express their feelings.

The chirping of cicadas is a unique scenery in summer, and the chirping of cicadas is the soul of summer. Listen attentively to the singing of cicadas. Their songs are exciting, loud, cheerful and high-spirited, and contain the philosophy of life: life will not end, but singing will not stop. They use their lives to declare to the world: Only in life can we withstand the test of wind and rain, the loneliness of long darkness, and the beating of stormy waves. Only then can we move forward in the bright sunshine, live up to our mission, and continue to struggle. , Singing the value of life and the glory of life.