Home

I talked with my friends occasionally, and somehow I went to my hometown. He said that he would take his family back to his hometown when he was free on weekends, and opened the open space in front of his house into a vegetable field. Not for eating food, but for the mood of going home. If you want to eat food, the oil money for driving home is not enough. Now every time I go back, I will go to the vegetable field to serve and let the children play freely in the village. It feels good. We talked about our parents. He said that in that year, when his mother was absent, he did not dare to go home for a long time, but when he returned, he tried to wait until the night fell down. Once he came back earlier, he met an elder of his family who asked him to go home for dinner. At that time, he couldn’t help sobbing. He said that when his parents were there, it was going home. If my parents are not here, that is my hometown! When I said this, I still felt sad. I can understand his mood. According to his current conditions, as a leader of a state-owned enterprise, this interest would not be taken seriously at all. And the reason why he did this was to get back the feeling of going home. Yes, go home. The place where I once lived changed gradually with the superposition of years. My childhood playmates ran away from each other. The Green Years of my childhood were now covered with frost and temples. I didn’t hear the sweet voice of my mother’s son, nor did I see my father’s hard-working back. And where is the full green countryside? Where is the stream at the bottom? Now they are all in the bag of memory, and what haunts my mind is the faint homesickness in the deep memory. People are always old-fashioned. No, to be exact, what people love is the past, the emotion and growth which have been branded in the marrow along the way. I am also a person whose parents have passed away. The sadness that I couldn’t help myself after my relatives left once wrapped me so tightly that I didn’t dare to touch anything related to my parents, especially the days when my mother just left, I dare not to be alone easily, because when I am alone, I will burst into tears because I recall my mother. Even if I think of today many years later, I am still full of Qi Qing. My mother went early, so my father couldn’t take care of himself before his mother died. More than ten years of inseparable care have made our brothers and sisters get together almost every day. Sometimes there are contradictions and we feel tired. But the interdependence with father as the core in the stumbling makes our kinship closer. At that time, what I talked about was: go home. Although we each have a home. After father left, our common family really broke up. Although brothers and sisters still walk around frequently, what they say is: go to brother’s (sister’s) home, but not go home! If the parent’s home is compared to the center of the circle, then the children are the circles rotating around the center of the circle. Regardless of the radius, the center of the circle is always concerned. After more than ten years, my father followed my mother and went back to my hometown. From the moment the tomb rose, my hometown became my hometown. The wooden doors and windows of the quiet village courtyard built by bricks were full of the world of mortals, and the old locks of years were mottled with time. The old house’s aging is reflected by the exotic Locust embracing the rough sky. The spider net of the rafter Eaves is embroidered with broken wool, and the old breath fills the sleeves. My mother’s Rice seemed faint, and my father on the Imperial chair seemed to have just left. From then on, my parents were not seen in my hometown, and I was already a wandering Wanderer when I went back. Like (prose editor: drops of ink become wounds) the snow in spring

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