Old House

 

When packaging some emotions, he is careful to keep them in the bottom of the box so that they can't be lost.Several years ago, a cat crouched on a chair and witnessed an undisguised retraction.

I am wondering what I can do to soak up my nostalgia that will squeeze out the water, those wet attachments. The vegetable garden infested by morning frost in February, the peach petals in the air behind the kitchen in March, the poplar trees that sprout in the wind in April, the dandelions flying everywhere in May.

A bluestone slab at the entrance of the old house was polished and thin during my childhood. One by one, past events hang on the bluestone slab, becoming longer and thicker, clogging the mind. On the bluestone slab, I could see the hare that had been caught by my brother. It stared at us with pitying eyes without eating or drinking. The hare was eating sticky soy milk powder that we gave her. There was a strong smell of milk powder. I also saw the little birds that we successfully domesticated, beating step by step, pecking the yellow millet; I also saw the crabs that we caught from deep mountains and streams, walking sideways as they lined up...

Unless life is uprooted, the color of the sun, and the lightness of the wind can stay in the mind; otherwise, it is hard to forget.

My grandma left the old house where she had lived for decades safely before the earthquake struck. In the years following grandma's departure, there was an earthquake.Those who remember that day on May 12, 2008, feel it stabbed into the heart of the village like a sharp knife, deep into the heart of the old house. When I get home, I see that the old house looks like a badly injured wolf crawling out of the ground. The roof beam was broken, the back wall fell in the middle of the house, the courtyard wall was cracking with a few wide wounds, and the cement well platform was cracked beyond repair...The graveyard of the village was piled up again. Several new tombs were dug.People only communicate with their eyes, and the language above the village is silent.

The entire family has moved out of the old house since then, and has never returned. Those memories that have not been kept are still tender and young.The new home is made of reinforced concrete, and it always feels a kind of rigid coldness. Compared to the old house, it lacks the warmth that smoke provides, the fun on the wooden stairs, the play by the wells, and the orange paint of the old house. As for the old house, I am willing to keep it in the purest and most beautiful state in my heart and occasionally take it out and eat it greedily to feed the gradually solidified soul.

A few days ago, I stopped by the old house after attending my girlfriend's wedding.In the old house, it's only messy and dry, and the smell of smoke lingers in the memory.A bluestone slab at the door was no longer smooth; there were several cracks. The well in the yard was filled with many blood holes like an old man's hand.On the well platform, the cracks strained out the scent of life, releasing the season's brows, tilting its head flatteringly in a bid to shake the life in the cracks.I ran my eyes in the crack between the wall and the wall, and traveled. The sky was the clear blue of March, while the green was below. All around, the youth is getting farther away from me.

I often dream of the old house, dancing and dancing on the wooden stairs of the old house, playing hide-and-seek in the attic, and dreaming that my grandmother brought us a big box from the bottom of the box. Dreaming of a big piece of rock candy, what my mother washed my clothes on the well, dreaming of picking eggs from the henhouse in the backyard, what peaches I picked from the peach tree behind the kitchen. In my dream, I was still a child with a dream.

The beautiful memories of grandma, together with her enduring purity, bloom on my mind as I stand in the noon sun, silently feasting on the colorful dust floating in the old house.Our hearts need to The pure will allow our dreams to flourish despite how unsatisfactory reality may be.