The horizon of life essay

Love is not just about staying together and having a place to live in this city. The first thing my brother and I thought of was to let our mother, who has lived in the mountains all her life, come and live together.

And I stubbornly believed that my mother would fall in love with this bustling and noisy city just like me. Fall in love with those dazzling shopping malls and shops, and fall in love with the product consultation on discounts every day. But after a week, I discovered that my mother was so acclimatized. Not only was she unable to get used to the sitting toilet, the narrow room, the noise outside the window, and the constant honking of cars, but she was also depressed every day because she couldn't find anyone to chat with. Several times, when she heard her neighbors quarreling, she opened the door to break up the fight. I tried to persuade her to understand that in the city, people don’t like others to care about their privacy, not to mention that they don’t know anything about each other. Too presumptuous. After a long time, my mother forgave us for our unreasonable behavior of not even trying to fight each other when we saw each other.

I was very busy at my brother’s supermarket every day and couldn’t accompany my mother for fear that she would be lonely. I bought a lot of two-player CDs that she would like to listen to and taught her to listen to them. At night, I dragged my tired body home and asked her if she liked it. She always said nice things and then immersed herself in doing laundry and cooking. I closed the door and wrote a novel on the computer. I turned on the TV and hoped that my mother would watch Korean dramas. But when he opened the door, he saw his mother leaning on the sofa and snoring slightly. I came over and shook her awake. She smiled apologetically and said, "The TV series is quite good, but I'm just a little tired. I'd better take a nap first." I helped her into the room and closed the door. She accidentally caught a glimpse of the empty room. In the living room, I realized that my mother had lied; in her sixties, she might not understand the popular Korean drama at all. Just like she said, the beautiful discs are all brand new and placed in the drawer, never opened; because I have taught her how to use the dv player so many times, she always forgets what she has learned. These things that are ordinary to us are no less than interpreting the heavenly book for my mother who is almost illiterate.

I began to try my best to spend time with my mother, but my mother’s “generosity” towards me made me feel uncomfortable. She repeatedly persuaded me not to accompany her, and she showed off how she finally knew the way from the square to her home, saying that she could get up early to stretch her muscles and exercise like those old people who do morning exercises and dance at night. Can make many friends.

After hesitating, I decided to leave the opportunity to buy groceries to my mother. She also returned step by step the previous few times without making any mistakes. But within a few days, she wandered around the farmer's market several times in order to buy the freshwater fish I loved to eat, and then got lost. Finally, the uniformed staff kindly sent her back. She pretended that it was just a trivial matter. I learned from the staff that she had been crying for a long time in the noisy market.

I insist not to let my mother buy groceries anymore, and my younger brother also agrees. She reluctantly agreed, but while we were away from home, she went out to exercise again and disappeared twice. I couldn't help but lost my temper at her. She sat on the sofa, glanced at me helplessly, and whispered, "You said, I can't even go shopping, so why should I stay in the city?"< /p>

In her words, I remembered that in order to kill time, she wiped the floor and tableware at home again and again. Even the clothes I had discarded, she took them out and dried them carefully when I wasn't paying attention. After cleaning, Fold them neatly and put them carefully in the closet. She cooks in various ways for my brother and me, cleans the toilet several times a day, and even mops the stairs of the father-in-law to be spotless. With such hard work, in addition to her contribution to her children, she is more important in this world. In the city where no one speaks, it is so unspeakably lonely, but as juniors, we are self-righteous, and we force this filial piety on her.

Not long after, my mother tentatively talked about her old neighbor one evening. I said: "Mom, if you want to go back, you might as well go home and see them.

"My mother raised her head in surprise and said happily: "I miss them so much. Last time your second aunt called and said she was going to be a grandma. When I heard the loud voice of the woman next door, I thought of your sister-in-law Chili in the front yard. , I was at home in Kankan, and when we had nothing to do, we sat under the willow tree chatting and knitting, and your third uncle’s mule gave birth to a foal! Oops, it feels like several years have passed. It makes me panic..."

In my mother's glowing face, I thought of her helplessness and reluctance when she left her hometown and was alone with a person. Lost in the city, I finally understood that sometimes filial piety does not mean staying with your parents all the time. Giving them their own space and life is also an expression of love.

And suddenly I remembered a lot. Past events.

At that time, we lived in three old houses, and my father went to work in the production team at dawn. My mother, my three siblings, and I worked on the small land in the front and back of the house. People earn work points, and at the end of the year, we have to give the production team ration money. In my memory, the noodle vat at home has never been full. Every time my mother digs noodles, the noodles in the vat will quickly fall into a hole. After two digs, the bottom of the tank was reached. It became a habit of mine to check how much rice was left in the tank every day. When there was not enough food, my mother would think of a way. In spring, my mother would let us climb the locust tree and fill it up. A basket of sophora japonica mixed with cornmeal, or mother took us to the field to dig wild vegetables, mixed with boiling water, put in salt, and each person had a bowl. This seemed to fill our stomachs. It haunted us like a ghost.

When we came back from school, we rushed to the dry food box hanging on the beam like a few hungry wolves, and ate them all, whether it was sweet potatoes or pancakes. Sometimes, the basket is empty. At that time, my mother hides the dry food and saves it for dinner. Otherwise, there will be only gruel for dinner. When the time comes, the brothers and sisters go to the fields to mow the pigs, which is something they have to do every day. A ewe and her calves are still waiting to eat, and we always find vegetables when they are mowing the grass. Around the field, while mowing the grass, we picked a few handfuls of cowpeas and stuffed them into our mouths. The long cowpeas were covered with mud spots. We didn't bother to wipe them and put them in our mouths. The green juice flowed across the fields and it felt extremely sweet. Of course, we had to do all this while avoiding the watchers from the production team. Our desire to eat made us more and more courageous, and several friends often appeared in the orchard to steal the sour green peaches from the trees. Pears, at that time, we were all good at running a hundred meters. As long as the guardian of the orchard gave a shout, we would fly out like arrows and disappear into the vast green gauze tent.

The people looking after the garden were not real either. They chased us for a while and then knocked us down. This is the reason why they succeeded many times.

There are many edible things growing in the ground, such as sour buckwheat sprouts. , as well as raspberry fruits, wild wolfberries, grapes, and even wild sour pears, which are hard and astringent.

We turned over them like hamsters in the newly planted peanut fields. I look for them just to eat a few peanuts. After a few rains, there is always a gap in the green peanut saplings, which looks so unpleasant, like a few scars on a thick black hair. That is our masterpiece.

All our thoughts are on eating. When we open our mouth, it is a bottomless pit, and anything that falls into it disappears without a trace. Eating is the most direct way of expressing ourselves and the world. In the process of looking for food, we naturally go to the fields, where there are objects that can fill our lives.

The spring sun is long. It is like a hobbling old man, walking hard and slowly. Often the sun is still high in the western sky, and its belly is empty. It keeps barking persistently, and in the countryside There was still a long period of time until dinner was turned on, and at this time we felt more uncomfortable than being tortured, so we had to open our voices and sing "Ocean, Hometown" repeatedly to drown out the grunting protests. The fields were still desolate at this time, and we had nowhere to find food, so we could only welcome the arrival of dinner with singing.

Winter is extremely cold. After a few heavy snows, then came the white-haired wind. From time to time, the wind blew snow particles against the window. We hid in bed early. This was mother's attention. When this season came, we were told to go to bed early and were not allowed to run out again. She was afraid that we would get hungry. You won’t be hungry when you fall asleep.

My younger brother had been snoring for a long time. He had eaten his mother's milk and was sleeping soundly.

My second sister and I were each wrapped in the quilt and kept turning over it. It was very cold inside the quilt. Our body temperature would not keep the quilt warm for the time being, and the cold dispersed our sleepiness. At this time, there was a knock on the door and a few coughs, followed by a question: "Qing'er's mother, have you gone to bed? I think the light is still on. Please read Shui Sheng's letter and see what he said. What?" The mother hurriedly put on her clothes and went to the ground. As she walked, she said, "Uncle Lao Cheng, I'm not sleeping yet. I'll open the door right now." As the door creaked, a gust of cold wind immediately filled the room. The cotton curtain was raised very high, and we hurriedly retracted our heads into the bed. Uncle Lao Cheng said: "Give the child a toothpaste as a gift." As he said that, he handed the bag of snacks he was holding into his mother's hand. Mother became embarrassed and hurriedly declined. Uncle Cheng said: "The cake I bought at the township supply and marketing cooperative this morning is soft!" He put the cake in mother's hand, and then took out a letter from the old sheepskin coat. , mother quickly put the cake on the box on the ground, took Uncle Lao Cheng's letter and started reading it.

My second sister and I glanced at the package of cakes on the box through the corner of the quilt. The fifteen-watt electric light in the room gave off a yellow halo, shining on the cake, and the oil from the cake penetrated On the paper, under the warm light, there was an oily light. I swallowed hard and pretended to sleep there. I was looking forward to Uncle Lao Cheng leaving quickly, because my mother said that when guests come, no matter what food they buy, It is also a rule to wait until the guests have left before eating.

I peeked at my second sister from time to time. Although she had her eyes closed, her eyelashes were still fluttering from time to time. She was pretending to sleep like me, waiting for Uncle Lao Cheng to leave.

The waiting time is long. Mother not only has to read the letter for Uncle Lao Cheng, but also has to reply to his son Shuisheng who is in the army. The mother finally finished the letter. She read it to Uncle Lao Cheng again and asked if there was anything else to add. At this time, the second sister couldn't wait any longer. She said to her mother, "Mom, I want to eat cake!" Mother didn't seem to hear, and she was still leaning on the letter with her back. The second sister repeated: "Mom, I want to eat cake!" This voice was so persistent, with a bit of crying, I saw my mother's shoulders shaking, but there was no Turn around. I think my mother must be angry. Uncle Lao Cheng stood up and said, "Child, let me get you a piece." As he said that, he walked towards the package of cakes, took out a piece and handed it to the second sister. I didn't dare to move at all, I was completely asleep, but my ears and breathing were very long, and I heard that the second sister destroyed the cake in three mouthfuls.

Uncle Lao Cheng said to his mother, "Tell Shuisheng that the sow at home gave birth to sixteen cubs in this litter. Your mother and I were very happy."

After eating a piece of cake, my second sister was aroused. She shouted again: "Mom, I want to eat cake!" At this time, I knew the seriousness of the situation. According to past experiences, From experience, the second sister is not far away from being beaten. I could see my mother's body shaking with anger, but her face was calm. Uncle Lao Cheng stood up again and brought a piece of cake to his second sister. This time, she barely chewed it before eating it.

Suddenly, the second sister shouted again: "Mom, I still want to eat!" Uncle Cheng was also a little embarrassed, so he said that all children are like this. With that said, he took another piece and gave it to the second sister.

The mother finally finished writing the letter. She sent Uncle Lao Cheng to the door, then turned over and closed the door. She walked over to the second sister in a few steps. The second sister's head had already shrunk to the bed. She had known that there would be something wrong. A fight awaited her. The mother lifted off the quilt of the second sister. The naked second sister was curled up with her head in her hands. The seven-year-old second sister was completely exposed on the kang and had no way to escape. The mother dragged her to the ground and spanked her in circles on the ground. While spanking, the mother asked: "I want to see if you still want to eat the cake. Who dares to marry a girl like you when she grows up?!" The second sister was like killing a pig. Howling, she responded to her mother: "I will never eat cake again, never eat it again, Mom, I don't dare anymore."

The second sister's butt is like a piece of red silk, Although she ate the cake, she paid the price in pain. Until she fell asleep, her nose was still twitching from time to time, probably in her dream, and she was still being beaten for the cake.

Many years later, the wealthy second sister and her lover drove a private car from the city back to their hometown to visit their parents. I asked her casually if she still remembered the cake-eating experience? She said, how could she not remember, but she was hungry, how could she care so much, just eat later.

Yes, in this world, eating is people’s first need. The memory of eating in that era is so profound that it is entangled in our souls like a vine wrapped around a tree.

So much so that in the face of today's abundant material situation, I never dare to neglect food. Every time I attend a wine party, I pack up the uneaten food and go home under the eyes of people with contempt and contempt.

I can never leave the land where I was born and raised. Yes, they are like the nicknames we had when we were children, deeply ingrained in my life.

Every piece of land in the countryside has its own name, but we have never explored the origins of these names. For a long time, I have understood that every piece of land has a little-known story, and every piece of land still records the footsteps of generations of people living in the village.

Farmers regard the land as the pupil of their eyes. I can name many lands in one breath: Shanghuangtan, River Sandwich, Dashaba, Yangqian Bay, Modaogou... the names of the land Names are like bags of grain put into a barn or grains placed in bowls. They provide us with the resources to survive. It is like a ball of fermented dough, humble and vulgar, and in some cases it is almost the nickname of a child who is prone to disasters and illnesses in the countryside. Because it was difficult to raise, mothers listened to Feng Shui masters and renamed a piece of land after their children, which meant peace and safety.

Any land with the word "water" and "chaoyang" in its name goes without saying that the crops will grow well. The grain is abundant, no matter what the year is, there will always be a harvest. It seems that he has received the true inheritance from an expert, and he has the attitude of a wealthy family in the village who knows how to manage money well.

The land covered by forested hillsides looks sickly all year round. The grass and crops in the land are also sallow and thin, cannot withstand wind and rain, and always have bad harvests. After autumn, the cut corns and carrots are as big as each other. No one is willing to give up even this kind of land. After all, the land supports people. No matter how poor the land is, as long as you plow it and scatter a handful of seeds, the wooden cart will not return to the drying field empty.

A piece of land, with vegetables, grass, trees, flowers, bees, and butterflies, has its own lively and valuable aura. Spring, summer, autumn and winter cycle, flowers fade and bloom, and the land supports all the people, animals and plants that depend on it for survival. The name of the land is like a piece of steel that will never rust. Day by day, year by year, it still shines brightly despite wind, frost, snow and rain. Living in the world is actually living in a name, while living in the land is an aura that continues forever.

We live, grow old, get sick and die on the land, what about the land? It endured everything silently, and accepted everything with the broadness and profoundness of Buddha. People will one day fall like meteors in the sky, but the land will not disappear and grow old. It has been carefully turned over and cultivated by generations of people. Our names were eventually forgotten by the ruthless years. People try to use their own wisdom to measure the infinite land under their feet, but they don't know that the land with a name is infinite. People in this world, whether they are small people living like ants, working-class people, or even high-ranking officials and nobles, want future generations to remember him, so they specifically ask or order to erect a monument for him, with beautiful and profound fonts on the monument. No matter how many rulers and officials have changed, no matter how hard the stone is and how fine the workmanship is, no matter how extravagant and luxurious the funeral is, in the end, they will all be eroded and turned into nothingness in the boundless wasteland of time.

The soft land does not have the hardness of stones and the dignity of reefs. The plow that cut across his body was rusted and rotted; the crowds and livestock that stepped on his head died of old age and were buried in batches; the migratory birds that flew over his chest were gone, but he was always like a sculpture. Looking at this vicissitudes of the world with detachment and indifference.

My grandfather was buried on that piece of land, and my grandfather’s grandfather was also buried on that piece of land. In their lifetime of fireworks, their lives turned into a handful of dust like an epiphyllum. Hundreds of years have passed, and no one alive, including me, remembers their names. These names are indifferent. With his mentality of carrying everything, he holds up the history of a village and continues its endless life. The land left on the map of our souls will never die. His name is always like a glass of old wine. A sip makes your heart drunk, a smell makes your mind green. The land is the calmest refuge for impetuous souls.

A person who forgets the land will fail no matter how prominent his status or strength is. The land is the root of everyone’s breathing, and the land lovingly feeds this nation.

In the past, I had an unforgettable hatred for the land. I am tired of following my father, hunched over, enduring the baking of the old sun, weeding, and plowing. I am like a calf, being hitched to the shaft of a cart, plunged into the vast green gauze tent, and fertilized. The skin scratched by the corn leaves burned painfully under the sweat and sun exposure. Because I am a descendant of farmers, I have cursed this land more than once.

I thought, am I just going to live my life on the land? In the repetition of working at sunrise and resting at sunset, do you drown my dream of flying to the mountains? !

However, when you grow up. When I became a mother, I experienced many joys and sorrows in the world. Putting myself in my parents' shoes, I finally understood that their love for the land was as much worship and piety as the Buddha. Because land is the mineral deposit for our life. With a living mouth, no one can refuse to chew food. I also know why the sycamore trees transplanted on the reinforced concrete ground in the city have lost their vitality. Every creature that leaves the land is like a fish leaving the water. No species on the earth can live without the land.

Any piece of land in the countryside has a name. I love the land. This is not only the hometown where I was born and raised, but more importantly, it gave me a love as simple and unpretentious as the land. The man who lived my whole life in a bowl with me, he is my forever land.

The west wind was strong, and my mother, who was riding a Haiyan bicycle, came into the yard and called my nickname. She was carrying a bag of food and opened it on the table. There are still steaming bean buns, vegetable pancakes, and dried sweet potatoes with a bright yellow color. My mother sat by the stove and told me in detail which area these red beans, green radishes, and green onions came from. My mother’s face is filled with happy sunshine. This is my favorite scenery in winter.