A village of teenagers

A teenager, born here and living here, I will never forget this small village.   This small village is a small natural village called Xigou of Dongliang Brigade of Baiyinchang Township.. People in the village came from Shandong province through the journey, also known as’ pick and choose’ to escape from famine, and they were carrying children in a basket and pots and pans in a basket. I don’t know whether it was feng shui or water or soil and water, they fell to the village..     There are only a few dozen families in the village, living on the slope and in the ditch. They are scattered and small villages. My family lives in a ditch with three main rooms and three wing rooms, which are also ancestral houses.. Before liberation, grandpa also had some land, hired long-time workers and had his own muskets. Bandits have come to loot. It is said that grandpa shot off the hat of the bandit’s head, robbed a few horses and ran away, scaring the bandits from coming to visit again.. The big nose of the Soviet Union ( the Red Army of the Soviet Union ) also came to harass, just taking something and walking through the village.. When grandpa told me, he was very happy, spitting and flying about.. I said, is grandpa afraid. Grandpa said, why not be afraid. As soon as the gun rang, he squatted on the ground and waited for them to walk away before he dared to stand up. Say that finish, repeatedly beard laughed. The size and boldness of vision of the big fellow in Shandong really gave birth to some respect.     To be honest, the family is not broken in grandpa’s hands, as the villagers say. After liberation, he should be classified as a small landlord because his grandfather was popular and had not done anything heinous. He also managed long-term jobs humanely and was classified as a rich peasant because he married a daughter-in-law without public anger. At that time, grandpa also prepared several catties of cotton to tie his ass, fearing that people would spank him and carry out liquidation, but he was calm and calm.. However, our great grandfather set up a landlord, and my three former police officers were able to make people clean up a meal. They were still concerned for many years.. I often think that no matter how rich and powerful people are, as long as they build up virtue and do good deeds, the victims will be turned into ill luck, and when they meet with the camp, they will be exposed to the dark..     I was born in the winter of 1962. I was blessed when I was born. My father told me that according to the policy at that time, there would be no food for another day later, and I would have food for it.. Grandpa gave me the name ” Keep”. It means to keep this root. Grandpa dotes on me very much. I always follow anyone who invites grandpa to dinner.. In my memory, the most delicious dumpling was the chicken stuffed dumpling I ate with my grandfather at Lao Jiang’s house. It was really delicious. Now I think the corners of my mouth still salivate.. After grandpa died, he became grandma’s follower. Grandma is an old lady with small feet, worshipping Buddha, offering niches in the hut, burning incense and kowtowing every day, and knocking a bag on her forehead.. Sometimes I have a stomachache, and grandma uses sweet soil to soak water for me to drink. I don’t know whether the sweet soil works or Buddha shows his spirit, but it is good. Granny and mother are at odds. This is also the survival state of that era, isn’t it. My mother beat grandma as soon as she became ill, so grandma had to run to the big ye’s house on the beam to hide for a few days.. Want to grandma also very helpless, also very bitterness, also died soon. Imagine grandma’s little-footed old lady moving and turning. The old and hunched shadow is still in my memory.     At that time, my father was driving a carriage at the township grain depot. The carriage was the transportation tool of the year. My father was driving the carriage south and north to pull goods for the grain depot, pulling grain, rice pits and bean cakes, and seldom stayed at home.. My mother was mentally ill, some said she had tuberculosis and some said she had breast cancer. She died in the winter of 1970, when I was 8 years old, my sister was 13 years old and my sister was 3 years old. My sister could not sit still. It can be said that my childhood was not loved by my mother. I have a sister above me, and later I have a sister. Since I can remember, my mother has been mentally ill, and every day she is crazy, she never feels the warmth of a mother’s love except for beating this one and scolding that one, so far she doesn’t even remember her mother’s appearance.. After many years, I wrote many words of nostalgia for my mother, some scenes are illusory, which is also a psychological one that cannot be erased. Although I have no impression on my mother’s appearance, the blood line is tightly connected. The blood line can create miracles. My mother’s cry is still engraved in my blood..     After her mother died, her sister dropped out of school. I didn’t go to school until I was nine years old, and I’m going to go to Dongliang Village Primary School four miles away from home. Go to school from the slope, take a long road, don’t come back at noon, and bring food. At that time, the village depended on the weather for food and planted grain crops. Every day is not to bring dry food or rice balls, but not to be hungry. For so many years, I have never felt hungry in that village, but like the willow trees by the river in the village, I have pondered the leaves of spring and summer, and have really gained the inspiration of life..     Every morning, my partner and I set out, and my sister would stand by the door and beckon and shout and go home early. I’m a naughty child. She’s afraid of me getting into trouble. We crossed the village, climbed the mountain ridge and stood on the hillside, watching the wisps of smoke rising slowly like elongated shadows, filling the air over the village like fog. From time to time there was a dog barking and a donkey barking in the village.   At that time, maybe he was young and playful, although he had four or five miles of prosperity, he did not feel tired..In the spring, I went with my friends to fold a few willow branches in the willow bushes in the river bend, twist them into willow flutes, blow out a quirky tune, and then I went to school.. In summer. As he walked, he caught dragonflies, picked flowers and plants, sniffed in his nose, and according to the fresh breath, he was ecstatic.. In autumn, listening to cicadas, catching grasshoppers and rushing grasshoppers, they wandered in the mood of autumn. The winter is cold and the wind is strong, so we can’t forget to play. My little black cotton-padded jacket is not warm enough to withstand the bitter winter. I kicked the stones on the road with my friends, hit the high arc with my slingshot, and hit the bird that landed on the pole.. Also can’t forget the partners hug each other, with the slight warmth of the body, keeping out the cold for each other, the ice flowers on the head are dense, the eyebrows are silvery, and when they arrive in the classroom, the ice flowers melt on their lips, a small piece of ice is cold and warm in an instant, but the hands and feet are often frostbitten, and frostbite hurts every year, so cold and devouring all the past..   At that time, the school work was not too serious. I came back from school and put my bag home. The sunset was red and I ran into the house. Sister saw that I was covered in dust and dirt, and she took off the dirt on me. As soon as she couldn’t speak, she lifted the lid of the pot and brought out the meal. Sister’s long hair slipped silently.. I gobbled up my food, ate my meal, and trotted off to find my friends to play with.     The place with the most play is the river in front of the village. That’s also the best view of the village. The river flows out of the eyes of a spring in a ditch in the upper reaches of the river. I have been to that place before, and the water is not too much or too prosperous, but when I get to the door of my house, it becomes a small river. Even if it doesn’t roar, there is no spray, but it keeps flowing all the year round.. Every summer there are floods coming down from time to time, yellow and yellow, nasty and overflowing. Once, I took my sister and the old Xin’s girl to play in the river and was fishing under an old tree. I thought it was a pit. I almost didn’t drown the old Xin’s girl and killed her. I let the old Xin’s adult give him a good scolding. For this reason, I also broke his window paper with stones..     The river in winter is quiet, with a thick layer of ice, aquatic plants and small fish frozen inside, like specimens, glittering and translucent and transparent. The donkey dung eggs hung with frost are like chess pieces on the ice, creaking and creaking as they step on the ice, beating up homemade gyroscopes with their friends with whips, also known as’ ice’ to see who turns fast and for a long time, laughing sounds come from time to time and spread far and far..     There is a well in the village that uses windlass to carry water. Summer is better. It will be difficult in winter. The edge of the well is full of ice and slippery. People can’t stand it, and they will fall into the well if they don’t care.. There are no adults in our family, so we have to ask others to fetch water. It was a snowy day in December of that year, and because there was no water, we had to use swill hot rice. I remember it was a bean bag, sour, as sour as swill.     At that time, the village was desolate, and wolves were still haunting Shan Ye.. We have only three children in our family, so we have to find company in the evening.. The eldest brother of my uncle’s family, the eldest brother, left as a soldier, and the second sister came to work as a companion.. However, grandma’s family seldom came here, maybe it was the knot of their parents. At that time, people in the village were very poor, but from time to time some people held out their hands to help our family. Our neighbor’s former aunt made us shoes. This is a simple spread of love, this is an outpouring of true feelings in the world, this is a warm transmission, sitting in my heart for a long time..     At that time, the village head often stood at the gate of the village on the slope, giving orders with tin megaphones, pulling the days of the village into a song that became sweeter and sweeter.. I also did the village head once, when I was only a first-year student. I stood on the slope and broadcast chairman Mao’s highest instruction with that trumpet, which was chairman Mao’s ” instruction on the development of pig farming”. I read it aloud and really conveyed it. I don’t know what happened to the village after that, because I moved away from the village that winter..   Years have buried the wrinkles in the village deeply into the earth. The villagers have moved away from the ditch, or onto the beam, or from the village, carrying their fantasies far and far away.     Water – like moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating a dream I had just created, that is, the village that has been lingering in my dream for a long time..     Tonight, the village is lonely / full of stars, the building / thoughts in the moonlight, crossing time and space / looking back at the frozen black soil of the small village and village, unsealing one by one / heart stations that have never existed in this life, are already / stormy..