Old house in hometown – Xinhuanet

My hometown is in the northeast of Jianghan Plain. There is a small building where my parents have lived for more than 30 years, which we used to call the old house. On October 13 this year, the third anniversary of my father’s death, I went all the way from Beijing to my old house. After walking out of the high-speed railway station, the night is deep and cold. Facing the bright and dim streetlights and the drizzling autumn rain, I drove to the old house. The time is merciless, the old house becomes dilapidated and depressed in the wind and rain abrasion. The paint on the doors and windows fell off, rotten and deformed, the skin on the walls turned white, and the ground in the courtyard was pitted and uneven, covered with black moss, mottled and disordered, like a huge palette. The old house is old, but if you stop and take a closer look, the old house is still as straight and elegant, kind and familiar, like his father’s thin and handsome figure. < p > < p > built in the mid-1980s, with an area of about 260 square meters, it is a brick concrete structure building with four rooms and two floors with a small courtyard, and the north and the south are transparent. To the south is a paddy field. In spring and summer, the rice seedlings with clear grass taste are green and vigorous, like green waves rippling with the wind, which is pleasing to the eyes and refreshing. In autumn, the rice fields are golden. Especially on the day of harvest, when the breeze blows, the refreshing fragrance of rice will permeate every corner of the old house. To the north of the old house is an open space, full of dandelions, wild chrysanthemums and some unknown flowers and plants. To the East is a small street, which is passed by from time to time. Wutong is a factory primary school in the west, surrounded by tall, dense, covered trees and Metasequoia, blocking the scorching heat of summer, and making the old houses no longer hot. Whenever the bell rings, the sound of reading from the campus is clear and pleasant, like singing a light ballad. The environment of the old house, which is rich in the sky and quiet in the noise, is envied by the neighbors. When the old house was ready to be built, I had joined the army and studied in the Department of architecture, Logistics Engineering College of PLA. My father wrote to me that my family wanted to live in a new environment and prepare to build a new house. He asked me, a student of architecture, to help him design a set of drawings. Therefore, according to the foundation environment and use needs, I drafted a set of architectural drawings, which were revised and improved by senior students and sent to my father. After receiving the drawings, father immediately organized the workers to construct. < / P > < p > I didn’t expect that the drawings designed by our academies are very “tall” in the current words. The parents’ income is not high, and the funds are limited. Even if they can’t afford to build this building, my father has been in trouble for a long time. Helpless, he had to work with the workers while modifying. Because of the shortage of funds, we demolished the east wall to pay Paul wall. Later, we had to change the double gable wall in the north into a single wall. Finally, the project was completed. However, its scale and grade were quite different from those of the initial design. Especially in the rainy and snowy days, the house is damp and cold, which makes the nagging mother find the reason why she often criticizes him. The works of < / P > are exhausted. According to relatives and friends, the construction of the building was at the turn of spring and summer. I served in the army. My two younger brothers went to school, and my mother went to work. My father had no help. He worked all by himself. At the completion of the project, the whole body was bitten by mosquitoes with blisters and small sores. The person was very tired, black and thin, and almost out of shape. Although the materials used are simple and the drawings are shrunken, the small buildings are novel in shape and exquisite in design. They are rare in the local area and attract many relatives, friends and passers-by to visit. At this time, the father who was born poor and thrifty could not help but feel happy in his face. What makes him more gratified is that after struggling for most of his life, he finally built a shelter for future generations like a spring swallow holding mud. When the weather is fine, my father likes to squat in the shade of the tree in front of the building with a cigarette in one hand and a tea cup in the other hand. He looks at the flow of people coming and going and greets the familiar people actively. It seems that he wants to make people pay attention to the small building he built by himself. He has a great sense of achievement. < / P > < p > after more than 30 years of baptism, the old house is really old and out of date, losing the charm of that year. At the moment, it is like an old man who has experienced many vicissitudes. It seems to be sleeping soundly and waiting. I walked into the yard, like a wandering wanderer, standing at the door of the house, but it was difficult to calm down the beating heart. I did not dare to step in, for fear of disturbing it. < / P > < p > finally, I plucked up the courage to push open the door of the old house, and what came to me was the smell of home that I had not seen for a long time. Looking up, the furnishings in the old house are still the same. All who greet me are familiar faces, that is, there is no sign of my father. He left us three years ago, and I never saw him standing at the gate of the courtyard to greet me, wearing an apron, preparing a sumptuous meal, and smiling on his kind face. < / P > < p > the night is getting deeper, my relatives and friends have dispersed. I sit on the sofa in the living room silently. All sounds are quiet. It is as cold as the moon and full of melancholy. But the dust laden past is like the vapor in the rain, fresh and moist. When I was a child, my father was very fond of our brothers, but his face was always serious and deep. He paid attention to this kind of love, into the cultivation of ideological quality and style will, and asked us to be honest and kind, to do things down-to-earth, and never spoil. Sometimes he made trouble outside and had a fight with his classmates. Although his criticism was severe, he was reasonable and expected. Especially when he grew up, he used his actions to express this kind of love incisively and vividly. When I graduated from high school at the age of 16, I responded to the call of the state to lower the level of rural queue jumping. Because of his small age and weak body, he had to do farm work, so his father was not at ease. One day, some educated youths and I were making nutrition bowls in the cotton field. The director of the brigade came to tell me that your father came to see you. I was very surprised because I was not prepared. It turned out that my father was afraid that I would not be able to bear hardships, so he took advantage of the opportunity of going to the countryside to investigate and see me in a big circle. I walked out of the cotton field, saw my father wearing a straw hat, wearing a gray Zhongshan suit, standing on the path beside the ridge, looking at me with a smile. The famous writer Bing Xin once said: “father’s love is silent. If you feel it, it’s not father’s love.”. This kind of love will not make you feel warm, but you can deeply feel it. With the passage of time, let you unforgettable. This is the deep and generous fatherly love. I think that’s what my father gave us. In the early summer of 1991, I went home from the second destroyer detachment of the South China Sea fleet to visit my relatives. My father was very distressed to see me, who had been buffeted and emaciated by the southern sea breeze and the scorching sun. However, my father was very happy to see that I had become stronger and healthier after the training of life in the Navy warships. I was very happy and changed every day He is good at food. Sometimes he picks up a piece of his best fried fish slices and let me taste it. Although nearly 30 years have passed, the scene at that time still emerges in front of my eyes and is as clear as yesterday. His father had only been a private school for a few years, but he was talented, smart, diligent and eager to learn. He was good at integrating knowledge into practice. He had good writing skills. Most of the materials in his unit were written by him. I can’t imagine how he manipulated these words. After I graduated from the College of engineering, I transferred to the university to study journalism department, then to Tsinghua University School of Journalism and communication to study for graduate students, and then to the headquarters office to engage in writing work, well aware of the hardships and difficulties. Sometimes, I give my father my written articles and ask him to give me advice. But from the bottom of my heart, I want to show off in front of him so that he can be happy for my progress and be proud of myself. However, he can always find out the problems and make you feel convinced. He often reminds me to write articles with less dogmatism, fundamentalism and stereotyped tune, more details and fragrance of life, and overcome the rashness and ignorance of the grassroots. In the bookcase of the old house, there are complete sets of anthologies of marnles and Das Kapital with brown hard shell covers. The contents are extensive and profound, and they are often new and fresh. However, many chapters are marked with red and blue pencils by my father, and some of them are annotated. One year, when I visited my family, I saw my father who was nearly sixty years old. He tasted the Three Kingdoms, read the outlaws of the marsh, looked at the Red Mansions, and saw the journey to the West. In more than a month, I concentrated on reading these masterpieces, and forgot to eat or sleep. It suddenly dawned on me that my father’s ability to express himself in writing and his skills in communicating with me and talking about political or philosophical issues were the result of his long-term persistence in learning, thinking and practice. My father also wrote beautiful calligraphy. In the living room and study of the old house, there are many calligraphy works of his vigorous, elegant and free and easy style. Whenever I see these ink marks, I feel like my father sitting in front of me, drinking tea with me, talking about the past and the present, and talking about the world. His father was addicted to smoking when he was young, coupled with long-term fatigue, and suffered from severe bronchitis and asthma, and then turned to COPD. The winter in the south is humid and cold, and there is no heating in the room. It is easy to catch a cold and cause old diseases, which is unfavorable to the treatment and rehabilitation. Since 2000, he and his mother have been living a life of migratory birds. In winter, he came to Beijing to live with me, and the next spring, when the temperature turned warm, he went back to his hometown. After 2012, my father began to live in Beijing and lived with me for a long time because of his poor physical function and being unable to withstand the bumps of a long journey. Many times he wanted to go back to his hometown and his old house. We were afraid that there would be danger on his way, so we advised him to rest at ease. But he missed the old house. Therefore, relatives and friends took pictures of the flowers and plants that he had worked with and sent them to him via wechat, asking him to enjoy them to relieve his homesickness. When he saw the familiar scenes and Clivia, rose, Canna and cactus in the old house, he was very happy, as if he had returned to the old house to trim branches, cut leaves, water and fertilize them. < p > < p > with the enlistment of the two brothers, they left the old house and had their own family. After their parents lived in Beijing for a long time, the old house has been vacant. The erosion of time, the separation and separation of life, it has become more obsolete and lonely. Once, the second brother called from his hometown to say that he had been visited by thieves for three times because he had no one to live in for a long time, and all his valuable property was stolen. After hearing this, the father laughed and blurted out: “now the living conditions are better. The old ones don’t go, the new ones don’t come. If you steal, you should help the poor! ” The old house is the sustenance of thought and soul. Spring and autumn, cold and summer, the stars change, the world changes, the old house left in my memory of the past, is still so clear and warm. It has carried the beautiful life of our family and recorded the unforgettable moments when I visited relatives. It’s a post for me to reunite with my relatives. The story of the old house is also a microcosm of the development and change of this era. It has witnessed the prosperity of the Republic and the progress of the people’s army from one side, and has become a good treasure in my heart. Like a trickle, it nourishes my soul, promotes my thought, stimulates my fighting spirit, and enables me to continuously climb people in the tireless study and practice