Homesickness and national love will not change

The last article talked about my hometown-Qingxian County, Cangzhou.

And I was born in Podukou, an ordinary village three kilometers south of the county seat. This article is about my village and my deep homesickness.

If I am not a friend from my hometown, I will pronounce the first word as "Bo" or "po" when I see these three words for the first time. In fact, the word "bo" probably comes from the word "white" inexplicably, so even if the glyph is "bo", we still pronounce it "white", but there is no such sound in the Chinese dictionary.

Speaking of this, we have to mention the origin of the village name. When it comes to the origin, we need to explain the background of the times. According to the survey, the North China Plain has not been as dry as it is now in the long history. It has always been densely covered with water networks and even often flooded.

Where there is so much water, it is natural to leave the shipping industry. Bodukou village was next to the Hutuo River at that time. "In the second year of Yongle in the Ming Dynasty (AD 1404), the Hutuo River crossed the village and flowed into the South Canal through Baojiazui." (Qingxian Place Name Volume)

According to my grandfather, there was a man named "Zhang San" who ferried here to settle down, and gradually there were more doors. Later generations named this village "Ferry", but I don't know how it evolved, so it was written as "Ferry".

After listening to it, I suddenly realized: "No wonder there are so many surnames in our village!" Although I don't know if there is a necessary connection.

Grandpa just smiled and said, "In fact, our Huang family did not settle in Podukou when the locust tree immigrated, but later moved from Xixiang (the family's collective name for the area west of the county) to Podukou to set up another portal. It has been passed on to my generation for eighteen times. "

I think grandpa's words and genealogy handed down from generation to generation are full of this nation's profound local feelings and clan concepts.

Then, grandpa told me a legend circulating in the village.

In the northwest of the village, next to my property, there is a natural pond with many years of history. The pond is approximately circular, with an area of less than 10,000 square meters. The villagers called it "Wangbakeng". When I was a child, I was curious about why it was called turtle pit, so I asked my grandfather.

Grandpa said it a long time ago. ...

There is abundant precipitation in my hometown, and this pond is much bigger than it is now. There are many wild species in it. There is an old turtle in that turtle pit, which is bigger than a man. No one knows its life span, and it rarely shows up.

Later, a "Fokko" came to Podukou Village, and its tail was always burning with flames. Fokko often runs around the farmland, and everywhere he goes, there are flames, burning the sky and the ground, and the crops fail every year. The villagers are miserable for this, because they are afraid of getting angry and helpless.

On one occasion, Fokko came out again. While people were complaining, they saw unusual movements in the turtle pit. The old turtle suddenly came out with water and spit it out to put out the fire. Then they confronted Fokko head-on, fought fire with water, and won a great victory, but Fokko also escaped.

The villagers went to heaven, and Lao Gui silently returned to the tortoise pit, and Fokko never appeared again.

After a period of peace, another year there was a flood, and the flood of Ziya River burst its banks soon came to Podukou Village. When passing by Wangbakeng, it washed away a nearby ancestral temple and rushed a tombstone into Wangbakeng. Just as the family sighed, the old turtle struggled to carry the tombstone ashore.

Later, this tombstone has been placed next to the tortoise pit. Until now, it is still lying on the ground of my house, as if it were just calmly telling the ups and downs here.

In this way, the old turtle in Wangbakeng and the villagers in Bodukou lived in harmony for generations, leaving a beautiful legend.

Grandpa said that when he was young, there were many turtles in the turtle pit. When he goes to catch fish in the pond, he can always step on the tortoise. When I was a child, the turtle pit was completely dried up because of drought, and there were no turtles. When there is water, it is our paradise, and splashing swimming is the most interesting thing that summer.

Up to now, material life has further developed, and the post-90s generation has become the last group of "native" children in our local area. What remains unchanged is the round and quiet appearance of the turtle pit, but the land nearby is not planted and the bigger trees are cut down. The laughing children are gone, and the tortoise pit is lonely.

I don't know why, but I still go back to have a look every time I go home. Sometimes I always wonder, should I say "something always attracts a person inexplicably"? Or should we say "some people are always reluctant to part with something"?

Sometimes, willingness or unwillingness is not a unilateral problem, but a problem of connection.

This connection not only refers to the legends and memories between me and the former tortoise pit, but also refers to the homesickness that often comes to mind. Of course, feelings in the depths are naturally sad. My choice is to leave half the truth, feel the world, give up half the sadness, and walk through the world easily.

Podukou village is a quite large village in my hometown. There are two main roads in the village, one horizontal and one vertical. I was always proud of it when I was a child. Of course, rural life has natural limitations, but that unique memory has always been precious to me.

This feeling grows with my growth. Later, I began to be proud of my town, county and city ... Finally, I was proud of my country.

On second thought, I always feel that loving my country and my family is such a simple feeling-because I was born in this land, I ran here, I ate its soil and water, and when I heard the familiar local accent, I naturally "deeply loved this land".

Just as our parents raised us, this growing land silently nurtured our flesh and blood. Just like the affection of our parents, homesickness is a simple connection, and nothing can be cut off.

This connection keeps your memory here, your story here, and you are here. How can you give up? This connection makes your feelings pour into it. When this connection is strengthened, how can you not be proud?

So, on the other hand, thinking about this connection in a small place is homesickness; Thinking about the overall situation is the country and the world. So I think regional emotion is a relative concept. For example, if you save people from other countries, you will probably praise the Excellence of our province. If one day you meet an alien, you will boast that the earth is a beautiful blue planet.

In short, even if we occasionally bring shame to my hometown, or even love and hate it, I rarely see people who don't want to stay.

Nostalgia is not like the feelings between people, it is more stable and profound. One side of the soil and water raises one side of the villagers, and one side of the villagers is also affectionate.

A person who doesn't have a sense of identity at home is like duckweed without a foundation. The sea is vast and goes with the flow.

A homesick person is like a kite tied by a kite string. The sky is high, you can fly.