Long Memories of the Old House Prose
1
I heard people say that my grandfather won back the old house that was "closed". It has been through three generations and is nearly a hundred years old. The old house faces south and faces north, covering an area of more than 80 square meters. The walls are made of adobe bricks, red stone bricks, bluestone bricks and other bricks of different sizes. The windows are made of mud, but the grid is small. The Xuan window is exquisite and unique. The wooden door was tall, heavy, and had been eroded by wind and rain. When my thin figure flashed past the door, the scene seemed to come out of Andersen's fairy tale. In the middle of the door's seam is a pair of round earrings, and the vermilion paint shows the rust accumulated over time. In the southeast of the old house is a small kitchen made of adobe bricks. In front of the door is a small open space, adjacent to which is a small pond, and to the south of the pond is a rice field.
I clearly remember that the old house was warm in winter and cool in summer. When I was a child, I would always walk around with my bare feet in front of a door with pebbles, but I never felt any pricks on my feet. But when the pond in front of the door dries up, our brothers and sisters will dig the pond deep with hoes and shovels, and then carry loads of soil up to fill the door. When the pebbles are gone, our friends will draw a "jumping equation" frame on the open and flat ground, and play games of kicking square stones and throwing small sandbags.
Directly east of the old house is a rice mill. Every morning or evening, the villagers are always busy carrying loads of millet weighing hundreds of kilograms to grind rice. As soon as the rice mill buzzes, the "booming" sound is so loud that the ground is about to crack. However, don't worry that we can't sleep well, because we are already used to it. However, the most disturbing thing is not the "rumbling" noise, but the rats coming from the rice mill. Whenever there are a lot of mice, your home will be in trouble. I once had my lip bitten by a nasty mouse and it bled a lot. There was no choice, so the father had to bring a cat from somewhere else. In this way, the night in the old house could calm down.
However, there are also noisy times in the old house. In the early morning, I am always awakened by the chattering in the hall or the crying of children, because the patients are always very early. Come to find your father. My father is a well-known rural doctor within hundreds of miles. There were times when the old house was disturbed. Whenever it was late at night, a villager would wake up his father through the lattice window and beg his father to open the heavy red lacquered wooden door...
二
The willow tree beside the pond in front of the door has sprouted new green. Although there is still a bit of chill in the wind, the water in the pool is gradually getting warmer. The ducks played happily in the pond, regardless of the softness of the willow branches. Under the banyan tree, my friend, the little ox, was staring with big eyes eager for my approach. And I, with my bare feet, rolled up my trousers, and wore a round wicker hat I knitted, walked on the mud road on the side of the pond with a smile.
The old house looked moist in the spring light, with the smell of earth everywhere, and the Daiyu basket pattern on the wall also looked tired. The mother put the chicks born in the old house in a large wooden round foot basin and placed them at the door to bask in the sun. The black, white, gray, or black and white chicks are all chirping, you rub me, I rub you, they are really cute. The mother was using sharp scissors to cut the freshly picked grass into pieces.
"Qingqing (my nickname), the cow is calling you." Suddenly, my mother shouted in my direction.
"Ah, here we come." I replied with my little lips cracked.
The old house under the slanting rain meets the gray sky, as if it came out of a Chinese painting, with appropriate pen and ink and clear lines. After a while the wind came, and the goose-yellow sun appeared in the sky again. A bird rested on the corrugated wall and was preening its long feathers with its pointed beak. After a while, it flew away again with a puff.
When the smoke curled up, I came back riding on the back of the cow.
三
When the sun shines brightly on the old house, the cicadas among the leaves in front of the door scream, breaking through the dullness of summer. The old house is more like a ship sailing on the sea, recording every detail of the family's life.
The busy farming season has arrived, and the front and back doors of the old house are open, allowing family members to enter and exit at will. A shovel, a pole, and a string frequently changed positions in the corner of the old house. But the family brought with them the dust from outside and the sand from the fields, as well as the first grain of the year.
Freshly beaten millet is drying in front of the door. It is golden and full of grains.
I hid my little feet in the grain and walked in tandem, drawing ridge after ridge, like hills, and looked at my father and mother with bronze skin and smiled.
"Qingqing, the chicken is here, hurry up -" the mother suddenly pointed at the other end of the millet and shouted.
So, I quickly picked up the broom and trotted over. Unexpectedly, the hen started a guerrilla fight with me, circled around me and ran to the other end of the millet. I was so anxious that I threw the broom out. I heard a scream of "cluck" and the hen ran away in a hurry.
On a hot afternoon, I would take out a bamboo mat from the old house, go to the thick shade in front of the door, lie down and watch the ants move, and let the yellow light like rice grains shine through the gaps in the leaves. Throw it lightly on my body. When I got tired of watching, I turned around on the bamboo mat and fell asleep. At night, I went to provoke fireflies again. I raised my little hand and kept saying hello, and kept saying "Come here, firefly, follow me." When I carefully brought the fireflies to the door of the old house, the fireflies probably saw through my scheme and turned around and ran away. I looked at the twinkling bright lanterns and scratched the back of my head anxiously.
四
In the golden autumn, the rice is ripe and fragrant. A gust of wind blows, forming waves of rice in the fields. The afterglow of the sunset quietly shone on the old house, and the eroded walls showed the red background of stars. The ducks in the pond are still attached to the water and refuse to leave lightly. A child from an unknown family rode a buffalo past the door of the old house and played a bamboo flute with a clear and melodious sound. The second sister took the water to the pigsty on the east side of the kitchen. I drove my duck into the west door of the old house. Smoke curled up from the chimney at home, and the aroma of vegetables filled the air.
The old house in the sunset is as picturesque as a poem.
At night, I woke up from my sleep covered in sweat. Climbing up from the hard board bed, I realized that the surroundings were completely dark. Then I touched the siblings next to me and was horrified that they were missing. So, with a cry in his voice, he crept out of bed and touched the wires with fear and fear. When I finally touched the wire and pulled it, the light didn't come on. I sobbed softly, kept calling "Daddy" on my lips, and subconsciously walked out of the room, seeing that the door to the hall was ajar. Like a frightened little lamb, I timidly poked my little head out of the door.
The moonlight is like water, flowing quietly in front of the door of the old house. The breeze passes by, and a sweet song is played among the leaves. The buffalo in the pond only had half of its head exposed, exhaling water bubbles from its nostrils from time to time. In the distance, the barking of dogs could be heard from time to time. I watched all this with helpless little eyes, and my heart gradually calmed down. At this time, the sound of playing between brothers and sisters came from the east side of the old house. My heart cheered up, and I ran over happily and joined them in the game of stepping on shadows. It turned out that my parents were enjoying the cool weather, and they were talking quietly about the harvest.
五
Winter is here, the branches are bare, the ponds are frozen, the fields are barren, and everything is covered in silver. And the old house quietly entered the fairy tale world.
And I, regardless of the cold outside or my little hands that are as cold as meat buns, walk around the haystack in front of the door alone, looking left and right, and listening from time to time. Listen, we are catching birds. Otherwise, just pick the small ice sticks under the eaves of the kitchen and hold them in your mouth, making them taste astringent. In the hall of the old house, my mother lit a fire. We, the brothers and sisters, gathered around and drank the gruel cooked by our mother with homemade pickles in the warm weather. We ate with gusto.
Sometimes, children from other families gather in the old house, and the old house suddenly becomes agitated. The cockfighting cockfighting, the pebble playing, the shuttlecock kicking, the singing singing... It was a great time!
Six
At present, the old house has been demolished. Living in Qionglouyuyu, a towering building on weekdays, I always feel like I am a village in the city in a foreign land. The intricate streets, rows of shops, and cold walls are all deceptive and confusing. In the hustle and bustle of the city, the nerves are easily tense, and the inexplicable pressure can make people breathless. Calm down your sadness and let your thoughts resolve it. Thinking of the old house, its four seasons, and its joyous songs and laughter, it seems like yesterday.
Now, at the original site of the old house, my father has built a three-story building. The mother followed her brother to the market in Xiangtang to look after her nephew. But my father refused to leave lightly and stayed alone. Perhaps, there are traces of the old house in the building. Because the old house marks the good years we had. In those black and white fleeting years, our presence is treasured.
Suddenly I felt that the old house had not been demolished and was still living in my heart.