Nostalgic Prose: The Old House I Miss

Figure: Source network

An old house, like a bird's nest, is a destination, a home, and a resting place for tired people. The old house is caring and warm, and it is a place to put the souls of wanderers far away from home. The old house embodies the love and care in the depths of time, inlaid with sunshine and smiling faces endowed by years. The old house is more like a mother's hand and a father's shoulder. It's time, it's time, it's the happiness of children.

( 1)

The old house faces south. Some are worn out, some are old, and some have experienced vicissitudes in the wind and frost of the years. I don't know when the old house was built. I grew up in an old house since I was born. Old-fashioned wooden purlins and blue bricks and tiles make up the frame, wooden window lattice and adobe boundary wall of the old house. Although the old house is simple, it is warm in winter and cool in summer.

My old house is accompanied by my memory and growth. I remember when I was a child, every time I woke up, I saw my mother sitting by the bed, wearing shoes. My mother got up to make breakfast for us and took the opportunity to make us new cloth shoes. I opened my sleepy eyes and listened to the "squeak" sound of my mother pulling a needle and thread with the sole. I feel so warm and happy, and I feel sorry for my mother. Four brothers and sisters in the family, including dad's shoes, were all made by mom with thousands of stitches. A pair of seemingly simple cloth shoes embodies the mother's hard work and love.

Making a pair of cloth shoes is a complicated process. The most troublesome thing is the sole. I used to be surprised that my mother was always reluctant to throw away the rags at home, and they were all stored in cartons. It turns out that these are all raw materials for making cloth shoes. Every dog day, my mother cooks corn paste early in the morning. Then take out those rags and spread a layer of rags on the dining table with a layer of corn paste. I can't remember how many layers my mother put up. Every time I come home from school, I always see a version of a rag on the wall, exposed to the sun. After drying, mother will gently peel it off and store it. Mother called them "cloth shells". Every time before making shoes, I will take out the paper shoes, cut them out, and then stick them layer by layer. At the last layer, I will stick a soft piece of white cloth to collect the soles. My mother always makes many soles and puts them there. When she is free, she will sew a few stitches.

In my memory, my mother seems to have endless soles. You can see my mother patting the soles of shoes in the morning and before going to bed at night. When it rains, my mother doesn't want to rest, sitting there patting the soles of her shoes ... In the morning, the sun shines on her face through the window lattice. At that time, my mother became a frozen picture in my heart, and it was also the picture I dreamed the most many times after many years.

Cloth shoes accompanied my childhood, accompanied my youth, and will accompany me for the rest of my life. I walked under the feet of cloth shoes and my life was steady and steady. Although I haven't worn cloth shoes for many years, I still feel so kind when I see the cloth shoes made by my mother. The love of cloth shoes is like a beautiful ballad, which I gently sang in the years and cherished all my life.

(2)

The furniture in this old house is very simple. There is a table in the middle with a portrait of Chairman Mao hanging on the wall. On the right is our certificate. Every time I get the certificate, my father will stick it on the wall for us. Every New Year, when relatives come, they always praise us: "These children are promising." Dad graduated from high school and can't take the college entrance examination. In the year when the college entrance examination resumed, my mother asked my father to take it, but my father didn't go. The family can't live without him, and the family's livelihood depends on dad. At that time, the burden on my father's shoulders was very heavy, with old and young, and his family was not good.

Dad and some friends contracted a rubber factory in the town. They go out early and come back late every day, riding bicycles to work in a small town in Shili. Rain or shine, come and go Every time my father comes home late, I worry about my father inexplicably. Sometimes, looking at the rain outside the window and thinking about my father on the road, I will fall asleep in fear.

Dad doesn't like to talk. He always feels cold. But every time he brings us delicious food, he and his mother are reluctant to have a taste. But in daily life, I can always feel the gentle side of my father. I like watching TV. It's a little cold sitting in front of TV in winter, so my father will let me sit on the stove and watch it. This stove was designed and built by my father himself. It's not a small stove, but a big stove with a core and coal in the middle. It is warm on the stove. I just sit on it and watch. Every time my father would cut some sweet potato slices and bake them around the stove. After a while, the smell of baked sweet potato chips will come to the nose. Eating sweet potato chips and watching TV plays are the happiest times in my life. That baked sweet potato chip was my best snack when I was a child.

Now just thinking about it makes me feel a little greedy, and the delicious baked sweet potato slices make my mouth water. Only now do I understand that what is floating in the sweet potato chips is my father's silent but deep love.

(3)

Cold comes and summer goes, old house, stay with us. When winter goes and spring comes, old houses always attract our attention.

Accompanied by the old house is an old Toona sinensis tree in the yard. I wonder when the old Toona sinensis was planted? As long as I can remember, it has existed with the old house. The old Toona sinensis grows very straight. Every summer, its branches and leaves are like a big umbrella, blocking the hot sunshine in summer and bringing shade to the small yard.

Although the small yard is land, it is leveled and tidy by parents. I like to move a small table in the small yard and sit under the Toona sinensis tree to do my homework. I also like the family sitting around the small table and eating together under the old Toona sinensis tree.

I knew when the kitchen was covered. It was built brick by brick by mom and dad during lunch break. There are two tile houses in the west, which I call "West Wing". The West Building was built when I was seven or eight years old. After the west wing was built, grandma moved into the west wing, and I moved into the west wing from the old house and slept with grandma. With my sister.

I still remember that time, my uncle's sister insisted on sleeping with grandma, and so did I, and grandma insisted that we sleep together. My sister is over there and I am over here. Before going to bed, my sister jokingly said, "Be careful, I'll push you down in the middle of the night." I slept until midnight and felt cold, so I sat up and pulled the quilt. Who knows, bang, I hit my head. I don't know when I fell under the bed. It was dark and I couldn't see anything, so I sat under the bed and cried. Grandma heard crying, turned on the light, looked at me in distress situation, and then let me sleep with her.

I like sleeping with grandma. Grandma always has endless stories. In summer, it is very hot at night, so I can't sleep in the house. Grandma spread a mat and a blanket in the yard, and we slept outside, watching the bright moonlight, spreading its afterglow all over the yard, and watching the stars all over the sky embedded in the night. Not far away, crickets were singing in the field, and grandma shook the cattail leaf fan and sent us to sleep one by one.

(4)

The old house, recalling all the years, is like a thick book, waiting for me to read in the dead of night. The moon outside the window is big and round. Tonight, I read you in the moonlight, the shelter you gave me, the care you gave me, the simplicity you gave me, the peace and serenity you gave me. ...

Time goes by, life is like a dream, and my old house is the starting point of life, and it is also a place that I can't forget after the storm. Because no matter how many hardships and setbacks we have experienced, there is always a place where we can look back and give us warmth and strength. That's the old house, that's home, where you grew up.

No matter what the years have carved into the old house, the old house is the most beautiful scenery in my heart in the time of drifting away. No matter how ruthless time is, in the fleeting time, family can always warm our hearts and let us move forward calmly and calmly.

The old house, pulling a long line, one end is connected with the years, and the other end is connected with the heart of the wanderer. No matter how far the wanderer goes, the old house is always in my heart. Just like the smoke in the kitchen, the smell of fireworks, the smell of home, gently, is the thickest and simplest feeling.