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It is a custom that comes from returning to my mother’s home to send the new year. On Lunar December 27, it was nearly noon before she called her daughter to set foot on the road back to her mother’s home. Although the solar term has already begun in spring, it has no meaning of spring at all. The yellow and soft grass beside the road crawls on the roadside. The tall poplar trees stand proudly and straight, with bare branches, clear and steep, pointing directly to the sky. It is expected that in the cold wind, poplar trees are arranged freely along the road, extending along the continuous road to the distance of green and hazy—-. From time to time, Big Bird nests were held on the high tree branches, and my daughter and son sat behind and looked up the number of bird nests, 103,104 —–, cars passed by from time to time, my speed is getting slower and slower, and my thoughts are drifting farther and farther. Once upon a time, the pace of returning home became so slow. I remember that when I was a new woman, my mother called the day before every holiday. Ni, will you go home tomorrow?, of course, I have to go home. My husband’s family is out of town. It seems to be a rule to go back to her mother’s home on holidays. So I got up early the next morning and went to her mother’s home, delicious food was served as we walked in. Before we had dinner, Dad would push the fresh vegetables of the season back home, bundle and pack them for us so that we could take them away when we went home. As for me, I was also responsible, everything seems to be so logical and natural. In those years, it seemed that most of the rice and vegetable oil on our dinner table came from the private plot of parents—-. After that, I had my own baby, and the number of times I went home was less and less. But every time I went home, I must put the baby in front of my mother’s eyes and went into the inner room to sleep, or ran to the street to find a childhood playmate or a sister-in-law in the neighborhood, aunt playing, as if suddenly back to the cabinet, lawless, unfettered, pampered and willful,. I don’t care about my baby crying. Anyway, mom is here —- Mom, what did you look like during the Spring Festival when you were young? My daughter suddenly asked behind her back that when my mother was young, every New Year, grandma would be busy early with rice pounding, grinding noodles, steamed rice cakes, rice bags, vegetable bags, bean bags, rice noodles and tofu. She was very busy, it is also very lively, then what are you doing? Mom and son asked with interest, the most lively thing for our children is the New Year’s Eve. When we get up early in the morning, my uncle will post couplets with grandpa, all kinds of things in the courtyard room should be pasted with the word “fu” or “fu”, “Xi” for going out for probation at the door, and “Marshal with big ears” should also be posted on the pigsty. It’s so funny, mom,, I also want to post it! My aunt and I mainly run inside and outside to paste and sweep the yard. Then I put on my new clothes and went to the fair with Grandpa. Grandpa would go to the market to buy my uncle a small cannon and a beautiful paper flower for my mother and aunt. The Paper Flower was cut so beautifully that there were all kinds of colors, now the market has disappeared, and I still need to buy bright red ribbons and braids; After the fair comes back, my grandpa will push a truck of river sand and spread it from the door of the back room to the gate, grandma said it was called yellow sand paving the floor, which was full of wealth. Mom, that was superstition!, my daughter, who was just in the third grade, said to me, “I smiled,” but mom likes that statement, because that’s what grandma said. Mom, did you also have lucky money when you were young? But I asked what they cared about most, of course they did. However, it would not exceed ten yuan in total. My son sighed seriously, 10 yuan! But that is already a huge sum of money, silly child, he can buy things that you can’t buy for 200 yuan now. The child couldn’t understand what I said, but just followed his own thinking and said symmetrically, My grandma’s family must be very poor. I didn’t agree and smiled helplessly. Mom, what do you like most during the Spring Festival? My mother likes eating rice sausages made by Grandpa most during the Spring Festival. Every year during the Spring Festival, Grandpa will buy a hang of pig sausages, wash them repeatedly, and then steam the glutinous rice, put onion, ginger and various spices to prepare, put them in a small spoon, use chopsticks to guide them into the pig’s large intestine bit by bit, and then I can’t figure out how to put them in order, anyway, in the end, grandma would serve the fragrant rice sausage which was fried by inch, which was so delicious that both my aunt and uncle like it very much. I want to eat rice intestinal. My son shouted, I also want my daughter to follow me. My mother hasn’t eaten it for many years, so she can’t cook it., why? Son a little disappointed. Because that is too troublesome, it usually takes two days to make a hanging of fragrant rice sausage from cleaning to making a plate. In this world, only grandpa will not be afraid of trouble and do it for us every year, but Grandpa is gone. Home was just around the corner. When my daughter and son came back home, they asked Grandma and uncle, so they hurried to the yard of the village’s neighborhood committee to play, which was a place for fitness and entertainment in the village. Since my father went, my mother’s health has been worse day by day, living with her brother and sister-in-law. My mother and sister-in-law were very happy that we came back. They hurried to prepare lunch and gave in warmly. Seeing that my mother was in good spirits and my sister-in-law was in a tough health, my heart fell into practice. After dinner, we declined the stay of my brother and sister-in-law, and also declined the gifts of my brother and sister-in-law, so we set foot on the journey back. Just like routine, my mother’s trip was completed in this way. Every time I come back, my heart is always sour. Family, family affection is still there, but more enthusiasm, less casual; More polite, less return. In her daughter’s eyes, the smell of home should be the pet of parents, indulgence or even cheating and willfulness. But in the vast crowd of people, in front of whom, do you dare to be so unrestrained? Who will give everything to you like your parents and pay attention to you? Who will give you that kind of complete dependence and return. My father went there, my mother was getting old, and the smell in my heart was getting stronger and stronger, while that family was getting farther and farther, and the pace of going home was getting slower and slower. Home, that is no longer my parents’ home, nor am I the Princess of this House, but just a passer-by in a hurry. Beside the road, on the high tree branch, a magpie circled around the Bird’s Nest. I thought it must be a big love nest, in which there were father, mother, son and daughter. Like (prose editor: Ke Er) the snow in spring Spring elimination snow, multi-the yao nian, unspoken. 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