The old house has so many stories and memories engraved in the depths of my soul. It has a unique style that makes people dream. While walking, the years flow quietly around me, and stories are told softly in the wind?
My old house is located at the west end of the village. It is a simple house with adobe bricks and black tiles. It is warm in winter and cool in summer. It is neither grand nor luxurious, just simple and vicissitudes of life, but I am deeply attached to it, and no beautiful building can replace its place in my heart. The door of the old house has two thick wooden boards with mighty door gods affixed to them. Due to its age, there are some scattered bug eyes on them. Crossing the threshold is the main room. The first thing that catches the eye is a large portrait of Chairman Mao. It hangs in the center of the main wall, next to a couplet of the sun and the moon shining together. Directly above the portrait is a red piece of paper with the words "Prince of the Master of Heaven and Earth" written on it. It and the portrait form a central hall. Below the painting in the nave is a bench made by my father. In the center of the bench is an incense burner, where my grandma often burns incense. When I was young, I was ignorant and asked my family if the names written on the red paper were the names of my ancestors. My mother explained that those words meant to warn future generations to respect the gods of heaven and earth, respect the emperor and be patriotic (actually, they are patriotic), and respect their teachers. Honor your elders. When we were children, our mother always taught us this concept. The left and right walls of the main room were covered with certificates from my brother and I. The happiest thing at that time was to see the smiling faces of my family because we received the certificates. In the main room, there are two rows of wooden chairs neatly arranged against the left and right walls, with exquisite patterns carved on the backrests. There are also a few small benches that Dad made by himself using leftover materials. Grandma's room is on the north side. There are several pieces of old furniture in the room, including a beautifully carved wooden bed. Next to it is a quaint wardrobe. The handles of the cabinet drawers are made of copper coins and copper rings. Grandma once kept such coins. Sew it up with cloth and insert a few beautiful rooster feathers to make a key. It was a favorite toy that accompanied my childhood. The walls of my mother's room were painted with lime and looked very white. There were several paintings on the walls, which looked simple and elegant. There was a small black and white TV set on the table, as well as a Sanyang tape recorder. During leisure time, my mother always likes to turn on the TV to play our favorite cartoons, or turn on the tape recorder to listen to her favorite songs by Teresa Teng and Li Lingyu. The whole house was filled with singing, which made us feel happy. My kitchen is at the west end of the house. There is a large water tank in the kitchen that holds cool well water all year round. The water is brought back in wooden barrels from an old well in the back mountain. It is pure mountain spring water, sweet and delicious. When my parents came home from farm work in the summer, they would pick up a gourd shell to scoop out water as soon as they entered the house. They would drink it all in one gulp, looking intoxicated. They always praised the sweetness of the water to quench their thirst. The stove in the kitchen is covered with white tiles, which are always polished by my mother to make them shiny. The mouth of the wood-burning stove was so smoked that after cooking, my mother liked to put some sweet potatoes and other things in the stove and use the remaining heat from the ashes to roast them; when I was hungry in the afternoon, I liked to grill them on the stove. With my mouth open, I could always use tongs to pull out fragrant roasted sweet potatoes or corn from the firewood ashes. In the era of material scarcity, those things served as delicious snacks in my childhood.
There is a small courtyard in front of the old house. Since grandma and mother both like flowers, the yard is full of various flowers: cannas, roses, morning glories, tuberose, chrysanthemums, and various flowers that I can’t name. Grandma likes to take me with her. Take care of the flowers, fertilize them and water them. When the flowering season comes, the yard will be filled with fragrance and the flowers will bloom in abundance, creating a pleasant scenery. Occasionally, beggars or homeless people would pass by in front of the door. Grandma and mother were very kind people. They would always bring out good meals to keep them fed and some old clothes to keep them warm. Their kindness has always been with me growing up. Every day you can always see chickens in the yard looking for food leisurely, the big gray cat always hiding in the corner and sleeping in, and the big white dog always standing in the yard sticking out its tongue and looking around to protect our home and yard. There is also a thick camphor tree in the yard with strong branches. It has a large shade and is very cool in summer. There is a big stone mortar under the big tree. Every year at the end of the twelfth lunar month, my neighbors come to my house and use the stone mortar to make glutinous rice cakes.
After graduating from college, he rarely went home because he was seriously ill. My mother took me around to seek medical advice, my father and younger brothers went out to work, and no one was looking after the old house. The longing for the old house seems to have been hidden in the luxuriant grass in front of the courtyard of the old house, growing and spreading as time changes, until it submerges my entire mood. The old house in my dreams is always dilapidated, and in the wind and rain, Drifting in the middle. When I returned to the place that was dear to my heart, the old house was indeed in ruins. On the walls that were eroded by wind and rain, you could vaguely discern the graffiti of my brother and I when we were young, and the vague certificates from our family. It had long since faded away from its former color and was mottled. I can't find my original appearance again. Looking at the rubble in front of me, I suddenly felt a kind of artistic conception of "even if we meet each other, I would not know each other, my face is dusty, my temples are like frost", and I don't know why I feel a little inexplicable loneliness and emotion. "The beautiful woman says goodbye to the mirror, the flowers say goodbye to the tree", it seems that the years are ruthless, but it also leaves its mark for a long time. The wind and frost of the years have left a deep mark on the old house, and there are so many past events behind the vicissitudes of the door.
Those days of drinking tea under the flowering trees in the old house and listening to the rain under the eaves; those days when smoke curled up from the cooking pots and the aroma of food wafted from the wood-burning stove; and those days when my mother wore a blue flower apron around her waist and shouted: The scene when I go home for dinner. They have all become my warmest memories.
Standing in front of the old house for a long time, reluctant to leave. Gently touch the face of the old house with your hands, feel the warmth left by the days, and quietly listen to the stories it tells. This old house made of bricks and tiles is the place where I carried my first dreams. It embodies the impressions of past events. It is the sustenance of my spirit and soul. It was once my safe haven.
At night, I dreamed about the appearance of the old house again. I was lying on the bamboo bed in the old house and watching the stars in the sky?
The author of this article: Cha Xiaohong. This article is an original article. Copyright belongs to the author and may not be reproduced without authorization!