My mother sat in the front seat when I was driving, because she sometimes gets carsick, and my father sat in the middle in the back. He liked to watch the scenery on the road, and he could tell some memories of his past at almost every place. There are several steep slopes that are often difficult to climb when driving a tractor, especially when it rains or snows, and the road surface is dug into deep holes by the tractor. There are many memories of the mountain village, but I don’t know whether it’s because I rarely go there or it’s too far away. Sometimes it feels like a home in a dream, especially when you come back here from a bustling city. After staying for two days, there was no phone signal, no Internet, and no neon lights. Here, every family burns firewood, smokes bacon, and grills over charcoal fire. They chat and play cards in the hometown dialect together, isolated from the world, and time seems to have stopped here. The small mountain village may be the hometown that my grandmother and uncles who live there cannot leave, but it is the hometown that I, a wandering wanderer, cannot return to.
December 26, 2015 in Shenzhen