Appreciation of a Group of Family Prose in The Blue Vulgar

The bed painted with Bordeaux paint and carved with flowers is very old.

That's the wedding bed my parents prepared for me when I got married. The bed has been handed down from generation to generation, and the dark flowers sent by Bodhisattva are carved on the baffle of the bed. After I got married, I went back to the county seat and seldom went back to my hometown to live in that bed. That bed has been in that room.

How many times have I told my mother to get rid of that bed, give it away or sell it? My mother glared and said, "There is no wedding bed to give away and no wedding bed to sell!" " "

This bed used to be my father's and mother's wedding bed. I kept it in my parents' room until I got married. I went to the furniture store several times when I got married, and finally I took a fancy to a set of bedding. The bedstead is exquisite and dexterous, and the mattress is soft and comfortable. But my mother just disagreed and insisted on moving her bed out and putting it in my new house.

I know my mother is stubborn and it is difficult to change her opinion, but an old bed in a brightly decorated new house is so uncoordinated. In spite of my objection, my mother just moved the bed out and put it in the yard to dry. She carefully wiped off the dust with a feather duster, without touching every tenon, and wiped it carefully with clean water. She was holding a piece of sandpaper in her hand, trying to clean the wood grain as if to turn it over.

Mother must have her reasons for insisting on doing so. Although covered with brand-new sheets, Simmons and gauze curtains, an old bed in a room full of modern appliances and furniture always feels like a patch on a new dress and looks shabby.

It is a custom passed down from generation to generation in our village to use the old bed at home for marriage. As for why there is such a rule, no one can tell, but it is said that the wedding bed is passed down from generation to generation and is auspicious. Mom can't read. Sometimes, I will tell her that there is really no scientific basis here, and she will nod her head frequently and say that what I said makes sense. Although she is not stuffy at ordinary times, she abides by the traditional habits of the countryside in such matters as children's lifelong events. She said that if you don't follow the rules of the older generation, you will regret it for the rest of your life.

After I got married, when I moved all those household appliances and appliances to the new house in the city, only the old bed fell down. After I moved, my mother still cleaned up the bed and was ready to go home for me. Although the bed was empty for many years, it remained clean until mother died.

Once, I came home and happened to find my father drying the bed again. I said that bed is still empty. Father mumbled something: "I'll dry it." Maybe one day you will come back, it's late, or it's raining, you can't go back, and you won't get wet. "

Father is old, his temples are gray, and he carefully wipes the bed board, much like his mother's action. My eyes suddenly feel moist. Under the erosion of years, the paint on that bed has been mottled and fallen off, and the bed has become quite old, but there is something clearly out of that antique dark flower, which contains a cautious wish.

This is a dilapidated rural primary school. The young female teacher squeaked and copied the lyrics on the mottled blackboard.

The lyrics have finally been copied out. The female teacher shook her arm, then picked up a pointer made of wicker and pointed to the lyrics on the blackboard. She sang a lyric and the children sang along. There is no euphemistic lyric in children's songs. They were as excited as when reading Chinese textbooks in chorus, and shouted at the top of their lungs after the female teacher.

The female teacher was intoxicated by the melody of this song. Once in class, she almost ignored the students' out of tune and missing words, and also ignored the students' playfulness and naughty. She seems to be singing for herself. Her eyes are focused and affectionate, as if to penetrate the deep walls of the classroom and throw them into the distant fields. There seems to be something shining in her eyes. "Every night when I think of my mother's words, my tears are flashing ..."

The children are waiting for the bell to ring in the song. They want to escape from the classroom. There are endless happy hours in the game. However, the female teacher seems to be still wanting more, intoxicated with the beautiful and sad melody, and seems to be trudging in the distant memory. The children's turmoil finally made the female teacher no longer intoxicated. She said leisurely, sooner or later, you will understand the affection conveyed by this song.

Until many years later, my mother died. Once, passing by a small teahouse, I overheard the melody of this song and couldn't help but stop. Many years ago, on that beautiful spring afternoon, the voices and voices of female teachers and a group of innocent children suddenly appeared in front of me like a delicate piece of amber. The surging waves in my heart are in tune with the lingering melody in my ears. It was the kindness of my childhood friends when I met them in a foreign land. It was from cloudy winter to sunny spring.

Since my mother died, the name "mother" has been cherished by me just like what my mother used. I stood quietly in front of the small teahouse, looking at the distant sky, which was as blue as jade, and I stared at the earth affectionately. The blue sky reminds me of my mother's staring eyes. The young female teacher's phrase "you will understand sooner or later" is like a key, which opens my memories of my mother and the past. Standing in this familiar melody, I feel like crying.

In fact, many times, I really long for something that I never understand. I remembered a movie I saw many years ago. I can't remember the name of the movie, but a line of the protagonist in the movie left a deep impression on me: what you don't know will never hurt you. I really want to be an ignorant child forever in front of my mother.

Twenty years ago, I followed a cousin, learned to be a carpenter, traveled all over the country and recruited jobs. At first, I was all thumbs and was often beaten and scolded. Especially in winter nights, I often sleep on a mattress made of wheat straw in my master's house. The thin quilt on the bed makes it difficult to reach the cold in winter. I curled up under the covers, touched my swollen hands and missed my mother at home more and more.

I once went to Shandong to make a square table for my family. The material is excellent Sang Mu. The host family ordered us to make some more stools with scraps. Making stools is the basic skill of apprentices. I took a heavy axe and chopped it hard. When sawing the legs of the stool, the hostess squatted next to me. Seeing my hard work, she asked me with concern, "Why did you come out as an apprentice at such a young age? Who else is at home? " I am timid, afraid of meeting strangers, and I cut the legs of the stool with my head down in silence.

My cousin yelled at me for pleasing the hostess: "Are you dead? Why don't you answer when someone asks you something? " The hostess quickly advised her cousin: "The child is still young, don't scare him." I gave her a grateful look.

Who knows, accidentally, saw deep, a stool leg scrapped. I'm a little embarrassed in front of my host's house and I don't know how to deal with it. According to the rules, we will lose money. If we are unlucky, the host family will deduct a lot of wages from us or even give us money. My cousin saw it and reacted quickly. He picked up a piece of wood and patted it on my back. While smoking, he cursed, "You are blind and only know how to eat ..." The hostess quickly grabbed the piece of wood from my cousin and said, "If it breaks, it will break. If you hit a child, you can't recover. " I curled up and cried. The hostess blocked my aggressive cousin with her body and helped me wipe my tears.

My cousin didn't cook dinner for me, so I was too hungry to sleep. At this time, the hostess brought me a plate of egg cakes and said, "At home, my mother is reluctant to fight or let you do such heavy work." Because I was hungry, I sat up, picked up the omelet and ate it in a few bites. She has been sitting quietly watching me. I was a little embarrassed, wiped my mouth and smiled at her.

Cousin is still upset and has been making amends. The hostess said, "The child didn't mean it. I don't want you to pay. " Cousin suddenly felt relieved, smiled, pressed my head and said to me, "Thank you very much." Because I was beaten during the day, I still hate him and my neck is stuck. Let him press it. It's not low. The hostess pushed away her cousin's hand and said, "forget it, it's still a child;" The child's mother will know about it in the future and may have a problem with you. " When she left, she was holding a bowl and tucking into the corner of my quilt.

Because the host family didn't want him to lose money, my cousin kept saying, "that's very kind of you." A good family like you will surely make a fortune in the future. "

The hostess smiled and said, "No one can tell what will be good in the future. However, I also have a child who works outside. I hope he can meet good people and be nice to him. " I found that my cousin scratched his head a little shyly. The hostess said, "All mothers have the same heart. Whose child is the meat that fell from the mother. Who doesn't hurt? "

When she left, she sent us a long way and gave me an old cotton-padded coat worn by her children. Later, I traveled all over the country and passed through many places, and I often met such a mother. I often put an egg or a piece of meat in the bowl with pity, or send a pair of shoes and a dress when I leave.

When I came home at the end of the year, my mother asked me what was going on outside. I will enlarge these happiness and tell my mother that it is very good outside, and there are many people who care about and take care of me like you. My mother was very pleased, with a smile on her face, and told me to learn my cousin's craft by heart. When I grow up, when I wander outside alone, I often think of mothers who don't know their names.

Sometimes, I can't help asking my grandmother, how can I be so good to my grandfather? Grandma smiled and said, "Your grandfather used an eight-sedan chair when he married me! Your grandmother is the only bride in the village. "

Grandpa was a soldier when he was young. In grandma's mind, grandpa is a hero. Every time grandpa tells his children and grandchildren the story of the bonfire years, grandma listens quietly. These stories were repeated by grandpa and listened to by grandma. Grandpa is old, his teeth are gone, his speech is vague, and his children and grandchildren are no longer willing to listen to those old stories. Only grandma still listened with relish as always. Sometimes grandpa can't remember the plot clearly, so he knocks on his skull and says to himself: What is that? Grandma will raise her head at the right time, or fill in what he can't remember. Grandpa patted his thigh and repeatedly said, yes, yes, that's it. He was radiant with excitement.

Grandpa became more and more like a child in the year of hanging the tomb. He can't eat hard food, and he is tired of not eating the same thing for three meals. Grandma made something for grandpa in different ways. Grandpa likes peanuts, but he has no teeth and can't eat them. Grandma will fry peanuts and grind them into powder, and mix them with sugar. Not only can they be eaten, but they can also be mixed with water to make them look like fried noodles. In spring, grandpa wants to eat shepherd's purse jiaozi, and grandma is cutting in the wheat field with a basket. I said, there are plenty in the market. I'll take two Jin. Grandma said that shepherd's purse on the market is planted in plastic greenhouses, and it is not as delicious as wild ones. When grandma went to pick shepherd's purse, grandpa sat at the foot of the east wall on crutches, watching grandma limping to dig wild vegetables in the wheat field not far away.

Grandpa's concern for grandma is often expressed in a rude way. Grandma is an old lady with little feet and walks very fast. Seeing her coming in a hurry like the wind, grandpa glared at him and shouted, "Old woman, why are you running? Watch your step!" Outsiders listened to his tone and thought he was angry; Grandma answered without anger or annoyance, "I don't know how to walk." So grandpa went on nagging her that she stumbled a few years ago and couldn't get out of bed for a month. Grandma said, that's it. If the naughty boy hadn't put a stick in front of the door, he would have fallen!

Grandpa is grandma's sun. Grandma walks around him every day, listening to stories he can't tell, cooking for him in various ways, and patiently helping him wash his feet and hair. My aunt doesn't like grandma's nanny to serve grandpa. Grandma said that after so many years, I'm used to it. If one day I really can't wait on him, I'm afraid I must be buried in the loess.

Grandpa left before grandma, and grandma suddenly became senile, dull, lost, absent-minded when talking to people, and forgot to do things. A year later, grandma closed her eyes and left.