I miss my father's old house (selected works) (I) I thought I always knew my father well, but I couldn't understand why my father kept his old house.
The low old house was left alone in the wind and rain, and time eroded its door. When wandering at the door, only some ordinary little things still linger in my memory.
In my memory, grandpa likes to sit at the door, smoking a cigarette, squinting, hunching, and looking intoxicated. Sometimes his face is red, so let me rub his back quickly. That scene is day after day, year after year. A touch of sunset rose and rose, rose and fell, and dyed the door of the old house red. For a long time, the door creaked in the wind, and I heard how bleak the sound was. Later, grandpa left, and the people sitting at the door of the old house disappeared. Later, when she moved to a new house, grandma often went back to the old house and sat silently, her eyes staring blankly, and her family could not persuade her. At that time, I knew that the old house carried too many memories and sentimentality of my grandmother. I remember grandma still likes to lean against the door of the old house and nag about some curious past events. Occasionally, several old women gather in the old house to chat: whose children are unfilial, who is buried first, who is short of salt and rice, who depends on everyone's help and so on. Grandma occasionally complains that the bad old man left too early. I was in tears, listening to her sob, as if I couldn't understand.
As time went on, the old house fell into disrepair. The villagers also advised dad to tear down the old house, but dad didn't agree. He went to the door of the old house and muttered, stay here until I am old. I know what he means. Grandparents are here, and when my father reaches middle age, he naturally thinks of his home. However, at that time, I still didn't understand why my father chose the old house. I only saw my father in silence, touching the door and turning away, as if with tears in his eyes.
Now, I stand at the door of the old house, and I don't want to touch the dusty past, because some things, like this old house, have too many experiences, which make us silent. Perhaps because of growing up, I gradually understood my father's old house. The old house, where my grandparents have lived for most of their lives, stores my father and their memories and time.
The silent vicissitudes of time, because yesterday and today are like the gates of old houses, engraved with too many marks, which can make us awake from confusion and let us constantly strive for self-improvement.
Standing at the door of the old house, thinking about ordinary things, I understand the deep feelings between the old house and my father.
I miss my father's old house (selected) (below) with a feeling of sadness. I opened the rusty iron lock on the wooden door and pushed the door in, and the feeling of familiarity and strangeness came to me. Open the desk lamp on the table, and in the dim light and shadow, I rubbed my grandfather's portrait, and my vision blurred. In the quiet old house, I seem to hear what the old house is telling me.
When I was in junior high school, I was willing to get mediocre grades and not make progress, and I was willing to fall behind and not know what to pursue. My father is very disappointed in me. I didn't know that my grades had been sent to my father's mobile phone until I got home in the final exam of my second year of high school. It was inevitable that my father would scold me. My father said to me that day: When will you stand up? Say that finish turned to leave. My father's words made me suddenly fall to the bottom and I was out of shape all day.
Get up early the next day, take a deep breath of the air washed by rain, step on the soft land and stroll on the way to the old house. As soon as I stepped into the gate, I saw grandpa smoking in the yard. I looked up and saw me coming, and immediately asked me how I did in the exam. I shook my head and only said, it's not good for grandpa to be silent. After a while, grandpa said, come with me, son. I followed my grandfather to a grape trellis. The original green vines are full of vitality, and a bunch of grapes are hidden under the leaves, which are as eye-catching as purple jade. But in front of the grape trellis, under the attack of last night's rainstorm, vines were scattered all over the floor, and I stared at the grape trellis in front of me.
Grandpa squatted down and carefully lifted the vines one by one.
Son, put up the grape trellis, and I'll dig some soil to fix them. Grandpa wiped his sweat and said to me with a smile.
Put them away. Can't they grow on the ground? Why do you want to put these grape racks? I asked curiously.
Silly boy, only when the vines are set up can we fully absorb the sunshine and bear sweeter fruits. So can people. Only when they stand up can they thrive. I suddenly realized that I suddenly looked up. I saw a few new buds sprouting under the grape leaves, and the small green leaves were covered with white fluff, slowly accumulating strength, as if to spread the branches and leaves to the extreme.
I felt a coolness on my face, and my memory came to an abrupt end. The vines outside the door have spread half of the yard, and I stood up. Grandpa, did you see it?
Listen to the old house, remember people in time, and thrive in the whispers of the old house.
My father's old house (selected) (Part III) is located in the eastern suburb of the county seat. Because of its rugged terrain, it is known as "the eastern corner is vast and sparsely populated". At the end of 1990s, with the process of rural urbanization, there were fewer houses in the village, and even if there were, they all turned out new bungalows. Only the old house is still there. For more than 30 years, xu teacher has stayed here and never left. In 1980s, xu teacher, a senior high school student, was one of the few "intellectuals" in the town. 1986, xu teacher, who has been a substitute teacher in the village for many years, is faced with a dilemma-either be promoted to work in the city or stay in the old house, even though his family doesn't support him!
The "old house" is located on the border of Hubei and Jiangxi, with the Shogun Mountain in the south and the upper reaches of Fuhe River in the north. It is an old revolutionary base area. As early as during the revolutionary civil war, the Eighth Route Army, the Kuomintang and Japan all stationed troops here. Xu teacher has lived here for generations, even though everyone in the village has the idea of going out.
In the late 1920s, due to the salary problem, a large number of teachers were lost in the reservoir area every year. Not everyone can stand such poverty, but Lao Xu persists. He said that although the "old house" is surrounded by water on three sides and backed by mountains on one side, its geographical location is remote and its natural resources are poor, but its ancestors all grew up here, not to mention 100 children.
Later, due to the burden of three children at home, Xu left the old house for more than a year. However, in May of 20 10, the "old house" was infected with H 1N 1 influenza virus, and the volunteers in the village dispersed in a hubbub. Teacher Xu soon returned to the old house. The old house is still there, a little tired.
In June, 2065438+0/kloc-0, I contacted President Xu to learn more about the "old house" and reported my written materials in order to cooperate with the large-scale public welfare activity "Dreams for Ten Thousand Left-behind Children" jointly organized by Hubei Women's Federation, Provincial Women and Children Development Foundation, Jinbao and sina hubei. Among the two short calls, the most memorable one was his "thank you, thank you very much" and so on. Speaking of this, I feel a little ashamed, as if all the burdens of the "old house" were completely on him, and the other people who shoulder the heavy responsibility are kindness and him. Imagine how the old house will collapse with him one day. But don't worry, the old house has been standing.
At the beginning of March, my sister called and said that she was asking for support. I wonder how her father gave her enough money so quickly and how she lost money. After repeated inquiries, I realized that her friend's father was seriously ill and in urgent need. Her friend's father was SEO. I trembled slightly. I just thought about the old house and asked her to find some public welfare organizations, government agencies and so on. After all, we can't finish it alone. Later, because of a series of work and study tasks, xu teacher gradually faded away, and I don't know if the old house is still there.
I didn't know that xu teacher had left until last week when I spoke to my sister again. Shocked, I asked why. My sister said, "His family is poor, not to mention spending tens of thousands of dollars a day on medical expenses in tongji hospital." "What about his family?" I asked. "There are three children at home, the younger is in college and the older is just married. The original family was reorganized. So after transferring to the regional hospital, he finally chose to give up the treatment of his children. "
After the phone call, I felt bad for a long time. Looking up at the flowery April day, I only felt a chill, and my heart was like turning over a five-flavored bottle. Only blame the original, never care.
The old house village with fresh air, beautiful scenery and beautiful natural scenery will always be here, and the old house with small green tile roof, stilt eaves and brick wings still stands. Only he, Mr. Xu, like a wisp of smoke from the back hill, drifted off the beam of the roof and soon disappeared into the blue sky and blue sea.
I miss my father's old house (selected) (Chapter 4) The blue brick roof is someone else's old house, and my old house is a wooden door with loess and black tiles, with a small hole on it, which is the trace left by termites. There is still thick soil on the ground, perhaps it has not been trampled for a long time, and the moss on the ground is mixed with dust. The original yellow mud color on the ground has long been out of sight.
According to my father, the old house with black loess tiles was built by my great grandfather with one hand and one foot. The loess used to build the wall was transported back from the foot of the mountain hundreds of meters away, mixed with sand and lime and built up bit by bit. There, we call this wall "loess wall". The black tiles were carefully selected and overlapped on the roof one by one. Grandpa is hard, but what is hard is the safety and comfort of future generations.
My uncle always tells us the story that they used to sit next to grandpa when they were young: during the war, this loess room provided a hiding place for grandpa and grandpa who had been party member for many times. Even if it was swept by bullets, only some bullet holes were left on the loess wall, which became the medal of meritorious military service of the old house.
Grandpa got married in this old house after the war. Although the family is not rich, the brothers and sisters of my father's generation still have a happy childhood: leading the newly caught fish into the old house with a straw rope, jumping out of the house with newly harvested marbles, and running out with a kite from new firm. On holidays, people of all ages always like to gather in the living room of the old house in twos and threes to chat and talk about an exciting topic. Everyone will always rush in and have fun. Although these things are small, they record the happy scenes of the old house in peacetime.
This old house has witnessed the landing of several generations of wow, academic success, marriage and even death. Watching every girl put on a white wedding dress and get married under the guidance of her elders, watching every boy marry a beautiful bride and step into the threshold, watching a steady stream of blessings sent home after the birth of a newborn baby, and watching the deceased elders be sent away from their hometown by their relatives. The joys and sorrows of these people are recorded in the history of the old house.
After many years, the mottled wooden door was pushed open, and the rotten smell came to the nose. A small sapling has grown in the corner of the lower hall, and the nest built by Yanzi between the beams is still there. The old wooden tables and chairs in the hall have long been covered with dust, and the patio next to them has grown grass and moss because of the continuous moisture of spring rain. However, there is no trace of footprints on the gray and black land on the ground, and it seems that no one has ever set foot on it.
As time goes by, slowly, the old house can no longer bear the weight of time. After a heavy rain, the beam of the house has been inserted directly into the wooden table. The sunshine filled the whole wetland, and the saplings in the corner became more and more delicate. The dust of wooden tables and chairs is dancing happily in the air, but there are a series of footprints on the gray and black land on the ground. With the sigh of children and grandchildren over and over again, I don't know who mentioned the need to rebuild the new house.
The old house is the witness of history, the history of China people War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression, and the happiness in peacetime. The old house is the storage place of memories, touching every tile, full of our deep memories and thoughts of our predecessors; The old house is a paradise for future generations. Eat, drink and be merry from now on.
I hope the new house can better withstand the laughter of our children and grandchildren!
I miss my father's old house (selected) (Chapter 5) My childhood memories are as crystal clear as pearls. The long river of memory is still flowing slowly, and the footprints of the river are washing away the old things. The rivers in my hometown still follow the original trajectory and run and fly without regrets. But I can't wash away the long-buried fragrance in my heart, and the old house in my memory becomes clearer against the background of rivers and shade. The door of memory suddenly opened. It's as if my thoughts suddenly rolled into a dusty torrent. I am trying to climb up, and a rope connects my old house closely with my parents, my brothers and sisters.
My old house is located in an ordinary mountain village in Zhalaite Banner, Xing 'an League, Inner Mongolia. My old house has loved me since I can remember. It also witnessed my growth process, leaving the footprints of my family's struggle, saying that it is an old house, not because it has a long history, nor has it experienced historical changes, nor has it experienced the invasion of wind, frost, rain and snow. It is just an immortal face in my heart.
Seeing it, it seems to be back to my childhood. I saw the warm scene of our family sitting around the dining table. My mother cooks, my father puts chopsticks on the table before meals every day, and my siblings and I sit at the table waiting for dinner, sometimes shouting, hurry up! To this day, I still see clearly. Now that I am grown up, I have developed the habit of being a child, waiting for my wife to ask me to eat. Thank your wife for understanding.
In this adobe house, we grow up happily, and sometimes naughty parents will scold us. After being abused, they will still stretch out their loving hands to reason for me and tell me how to be a man. I know they love me, so I planted the seeds of love in my young mind, and the grateful soul has penetrated into my bone marrow. Every nerve and every blood vessel is gurgling. Time is like water, time is like a song, and I am growing up with the approach of youth.
I remember one summer night in junior high school, there was lightning and thunder in the sky, and I only listened to the hymn of Lala on the roof. The rain was like a stream and the water splashed everywhere. The old house is also experiencing the baptism of wind and rain. Due to long-term maintenance, it also issued the first cry in 20 years, and the gurgling woke us up in our sleep. Our parents are worried. What are we going to do? There is no money! Finally, in the early morning, something mysterious appeared in the sky. Dad quickly called the neighbors to repair the house. When the old house is repaired, our family can have fun again. The old house witnessed all this and hugged our family tightly. With the efforts of our parents, our family's life is getting better and better. Mom and dad began to have new plans to build a new house. Several of our children cheered when they heard the news. We are going to live in a new house! Going to live in a new house! It is a brick structure.
Hope always depends on disappointment, and the disillusionment of dreams is always so earth-shattering He quietly moistened the people who snuggled up to him, making the autumn rain rock-breaking, and it was too cold to sleep. That autumn, I was admitted to Xing 'an League Normal School, which was a happy thing for our family! My parents are so happy that when they are happy, they tell everyone that they are sad again. The house is dying, and so is the old house.
On September 10, my parents made the most important decision in their lives and let me go to school. They gave me the family's only 10000 yuan and told me happily that you finally made a promise. My parents were going to build a new house, but now they have to postpone it. Looking at their faces full of vicissitudes and their hands full of thorns, my heart ached. What a teenager's heart and blood that money cost! Tears also overflow involuntarily like spring water. With the ardent expectations of my parents, I completed the normal school year as I wished, and the old house has withstood the baptism of wind and rain. He became stronger, braver, and stumbled forward, making people feel like an old man. It is also a pity and care for this kind family.
Time flies, the title page of time keeps turning, and the wheel of history runs over many thorns and bumps. In a blink of an eye, in 2004, I entered the ranks of people's teachers and worked in Zhaqi Chule Middle School. I got a call from my mother saying that the soil on the side wall of my house had fallen to the ground because of the impact of rain, and my father's health was getting worse and worse. Let me go back and clean the wall with her. I rode my motorcycle and couldn't wait to go home and clean the wall with my mother. Seeing my mother smiled with relief, I also went back to school. I swear to let my parents live in brick houses within five years. Dreams often wander in reality, but I am reluctant to give up, and my dream wings are broken again.
In 2005, my father was unwell and could only support for three months after examination. Three months later, he closed his eyes forever with his nostalgia for home and deep affection for my old house. The old house was put on hold again, and only my mother lived in the lonely old house. Although the reality deviates from the beginning of mankind, Keren is always the messenger of victory.
At the end of 20xx, I got married and had my own new house. My mother has worked hard all her life. I tried many times to persuade her to live with me, but she couldn't bear to leave the old house. I know there is my father's shadow, a string of memories of our childhood, colorful dreams woven by my parents for us, the feeling that our brothers and sisters snuggled up in front of her and played, and our innocent childhood when we looked up at the sky and counted the stars. When my father left, he left in such a hurry that he didn't enjoy the happiness of the day before he died. He often said: with a home, your mother and I will not be afraid of hardships, and any difficulties will pass. Yes! Nothing is happier than being together as a family.
Now, 10 years have passed, and the old house has witnessed the vicissitudes of our family and accompanied us through 30 years of life. Now, a new house with brick structure has been built on it. He is spacious and bright. When my brothers and sisters get together at my mother's house, we always mention the old house, and sometimes it is a little sad. Yes! How can we forget the old house that accompanied us, and how can we forget the scene that the old house was surrounded by five people in the family? Isn't that the father who survived the storm and stood still? Self-confidence, optimism, open-mindedness, diligence and kindness.
It's so sad that the old house is gone. We always wanted to dress him in the most beautiful coat, but he left with deep regret. At the moment when he collapsed, I felt that he was still so stubborn and wronged. Now that I think about it, I really can't bear to give up. Perhaps he is the brightest star on the horizon, witnessing the past and present.
The old house, I will always remember that day in 2005. The old house is safe!
Old house, you are the face of my heart.