There, you can always see the early morning: the fog pervades the whole village, the roof of the turret can not be seen, and the running goats cannot be seen. The children who went to school were laughing on the road, but they couldn't see anyone. In primary school, the five-star red flag is hidden in the clouds. The early peasant woman yelled at her piglet and disappeared into the thick fog of the market. I was sure to wake up at this time, because my mother would push my door open on time, then float in the smell of noodles, and then urge me to go to school. It was in the fragrance of burning noodles that I finished my primary school. This smell has been lingering in my midnight dream until now.
The village was still so small that I left, leaving my old mother behind, and had been gone for more than ten years. Always thinking that I would be successful outside and pick up my mother. The reality is that I can only become a stranger, can not see my future, but I see the future of the village. Like a nightmare, always around my mind, but also around my mother's heart! In recent years, young people in the village have gone out to study and work; when they have some money, they have built a new house above the town. There are fewer and fewer people, and my primary school is abandoned, but in my mother's eyes, the village has always been there and has not changed.
Mother was born in this village, married in this village, and grew old in this village. There is our ancestral home in the village, and there is our magic card in the ancestral house. She always takes our sisters to the ancestral house to offer incense to our ancestors on several major festivals. In her life, except for going to the market, my mother almost never left the village. On several occasions, in the year when I was admitted to college, she sent me to my university, but to be honest, she did not help me all the way. Instead, I was always worried about her, afraid that she would get lost, and that she would be deceived. Because she can tell at a glance that she is a rural woman who seldom goes to the city. I remember she said at that time: there are only a few steps across the road, how to cross the flyover so far away, or our village is better, everything is convenient. My mother was 55 when she said this.
The village was getting quieter and quieter, and the people were getting older and older, but my mother didn't want to leave. She said: I have never left. There are few people in the village but are close to each other. As a matter of fact, there are only the elderly in the remaining ten or so households. now they are slightly unable to grow crops, and occasionally they can only rush to buy some necessities when they go to the market. I know that the disappearance of the village will happen sooner or later, but I didn't expect it to come so soon.
In 2010, the construction of run-Hangzhou Expressway began. Mother's village belongs to the road planning area, the ancestral house is going to be gone, the magic card is going to be gone, and even several ancestral graves are going to be gone. The mother has become a nail house. She doesn't want government compensation. She doesn't want spacious buildings on Immigrant Street. She locked herself in her ancestral home and allowed the government's engineering car to work outside, and no one knew what she was doing inside. The town government had no choice but to call me, hoping that I would do ideological work for my mother. So I returned to the village where I was haunted.
Maybe I should no longer call it a village, only broken rubble and sand can be seen. I can't find the path where I went to school as a child, and I can't find the dirt that frosts and hardens. The fog of the village in the early morning has slowly disappeared into my memory! I saw the only building in the village, which was my ancestral home. The chimney of the house is smoking at the moment. Is my mother cooking dinner? Mother must have known I was back. The door was locked and I went up and knocked hard, but there was no answer! I knocked again and shouted twice: & lsquo; mother! Mom! & rsquo; is half ringing and the door opens. I saw my mother, who was still standing in front of me dressed neatly, as if the hot construction was none of her business, she was just repeating the same life she had lived for decades. He's back! The mother smiled. Think of a lot of words, this moment suddenly disappeared, their own disgraceful cry. Because at this moment I understand that the village my mother adheres to is the home in her mind. She hopes that whenever her children come back, she will be able to smile and say: come back! Then smile and cook us a table of hot food. Infinite sadness welled up in my heart, and my words turned into one sentence: come with me!
My mother didn't go with me. She had to wait for her brother to graduate from college and be with her son. The government promised her to move her ancestral house to Immigrant Street as it was, and her mother finally left the village. Under the work of the excavator, with a loud noise, the last building of the village collapsed. My dreamy hometown went up in smoke, the only evidence of my childhood memories was erased, and for my mother, it was a lifetime. The town government car picked up their mother a long time ago, and maybe they didn't want their mother to see this picture either.
That night, my mother and I slept in an apartment arranged by the town government. I dreamt of the foggy morning: turrets, goats and red flags were still mysteriously hidden in the fog. I lingered on my cot and smelled the smell of burning noodles again
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