Stone port fortune telling _ Stone port fortune telling fairy fair?

I finally pushed the door open again. One October night after leaving my hometown for three years, something blew from a distance like the wind, as if an unstable dust had fallen into my eyes.

After all, she disappeared from the sturdy pear chair. She picked up a chair from the trench near Luohan Bridge. Except for one foot, the others are so strong that people can't move them. She moved back, found four blue bricks to support the broken chair feet, and sat excitedly for a long time. After that, she was too tired to stand still, so she couldn't live without these three-legged armchairs. Year after year, the pear tree rings were polished by her, but she disappeared and became a cricket standing on the back of the chair.

A hoarse cough came from the dark wooden attic, coming from a dark corner, like the language of bats and owls. When I was a child, I was shocked by the sound that broke out in this dead silence more than once, but she turned a deaf ear. For her, my mother shouted for decades, and she twisted her ears and didn't hear anything-but my mother always denied that my grandmother was completely deaf, and my mother insisted that my grandmother could hear, such as my uncle's voice.

She can really understand her uncle's voice. She has two daughters, including her mother. Only on children's birthdays every year does grandma become more generous, willing to take out her pockets and ask if she wants a gift. My aunt jumped over and shouted sandalwood, olive and dragon's beard crisp candy, just like snowflakes falling into the water, and grandma's expression didn't even ripple at all. She turned to ask Uncle Simao, who said impatiently, Who cares?

Oh! Well, well, she suddenly realized: eat noodles! I cooked several bowls of clean noodles contentedly.

Her extraordinary sensitivity to Uncle Simao made her mother very helpless. Mother said that grandma had been deaf for many years, but she heard Simao crying. It's just fate.

A few years ago, it was that clear cry that changed her fate.

In the early morning when the autumn frost was thick, the fog was heavy, and the color left in the town until late autumn completely disappeared. Shiqiao restaurant in the teahouse took part in this trip ... the complicated lines suddenly became simple, and the wind could blow them away. The narrow and circuitous river along the street was infinitely wide. At two o'clock, Wu Peng's boat with masthead lights seems to be moving in the blank space of ink painting. As usual, she picked up the bamboo basket on the back of the broom and walked down the deep bluestone street. Every day, she is always the first in town to get up and go out, responsible for cleaning 9 small streets and more than 40 bridges.

There are many stone bridges in water towns, with high arches, flat plates, single holes and half moons ... crisscrossing the dark green river. People here are used to building bridges and doing good deeds for birthdays when officials have money. Some bridges are not decorated, such as a son in his fifties or a widowed remarriage celebration bridge. Some people insist on adding two words, that is, "a tree dies and meets spring" and "a plum blossoms twice". The oldest bridge can be traced back to the Wanli period of the Ming Dynasty. It is the Xiling Bridge under Ruyi Tea House. According to legend, it was built by Fan Mian, a scholar who wrote poems in Xiling. The four seal characters of "Wen Ze Jiangzuo" are engraved on the bridge railing, which has been blurred for a long time. As the saying goes, talent comes from the mountains and rivers, and so does the bridge. In the early Qing Dynasty, Shunzhi B failed in the scientific examination, and Zhao Heng, the son of Qizhen, won the flower exploration and returned to his hometown to build a flower exploration bridge. After the early years of the Republic of China, the gentry built the Guangfu Bridge, together with jiefang bridge, which celebrated the founding of the People's Republic of China, and the Communist Bridge of the Great Leap Forward, which also kept pace with the times. Strolling across the bridge is like stepping on a page of solidified history in Qizhen.

These bridges make grandma's back almost hunched, because she has to clean it in the afternoon every day to straighten up and catch her breath, but it feels good, and she can earn wages and pick up waste. In the cold summer, she picked up a lot of things in Qiaogang and garbage dump. In addition to pear-wood chairs, she often picks up incomplete bottles, old shoes, rags, pencil heads, toothpaste skins ... and of course, her uncle's four hairs.

At that time, Simao was just a scrawny baby boy, wrapped in a khaki cotton cloth and placed under the stone harbor of Cailing Bridge. Cailing Bridge is the sixth bridge cleaned by Grandma. The thick fog made her ignore the yellow cloth by the bridge. At the moment of leaving, a voice suddenly tore her, as thin as a piece of glass, and drilled into her ears that had been deaf for many years. Grandma, who has always been silent, was at a loss, and then took aim at the climbing cloth by the bridge.

This is not a dime or toothpaste tube. She was afraid to pick it up and put it by the bridge waiting for someone to claim it. Soon everyone was in the street, gathering and watching wave after wave, but there was no sign of the owner. When the fog clears, the tailor Lao Mo said, don't wait. If parents can get the small entrance away, they can't get it back. After all, it's a life. Who will do a good job and adopt it? ...

No one dares to do good. In those days, the extra children in every family had to be taken home by grandma temporarily. How to improve her has been worrying for a long time. Grandpa, a hawker, went to northern Jiangsu by night boat in the early years and never came back. He came back with scary rumors, such as being captured as a soldier or missing. In a word, he didn't add any hope to grandma and his three daughters. You can't fill three mouths by sweeping the streets to sell waste products. My mother can remember that a family eats two meals a day. Their eyes are hungrier than ordinary children, and there are dishes on their faces that can't be washed away. The rice porridge they drink every day does contain a lot of radish leaves.

There was nothing for the baby in the tattered attic, and Simao cried in despair. Grandma asked her mother to take a bowl and asked the family raising the children for some milk. After a long time, I scooped up a spoonful of brown sugar and poured some rice soup, but it was very quiet.

A bad stomach is reassuring. Grandma smoothed her wrinkles and looked at the four hairs in her hand. This is not very good. She is covered with yellow hair and can be picked up with chopsticks. Her scrawled eyes and mouth are quite big, showing her desire to eat. Only a red mole embedded in the mouth makes grandma like it very much. She vaguely remembers that her first son had the same mole on his mouth. The child is really clever. He can read a lot at the age of two, and he can help her pick vegetables and thread needles at the age of three. Unfortunately, he died of tuberculosis before going to school. She always misses the child and remembers his voice calling for his mother. After that, she couldn't hear the cries of her two daughters. And that night she seemed to feel some kind of noise, the intimate beating of the child's heart, and the subtle warm breath, all of which made the long night not condense into a cold hand like in the past, hollowing out from the soles of the feet to the heart.

At dawn, she decided to leave the child and bought two pounds of milk powder, which made her aunt almost cry. She is almost nine years old and has never smelled anything so delicious. Such a fragrant thing makes grandma feel cost-effective. Two kilograms of milk powder is enough for her to sweep the street for seven days or sell 300 kilograms of waste paper. The children of cadres in the town are fed this, which is better than drinking vegetable porridge.

However, the child's appetite was beyond her expectation. She should only drink milk powder for four days a week, and she often cries of hunger in the middle of the night. The milk powder didn't last long, so grandma had to change it to a relatively cheap biscuit paste. Fortunately, Simao was not picky about food, so he wolfed it down and made the porridge of the whole family thinner and thinner.

At that time, my mother, in primary school, never did her homework. She spends all her spare time in the market picking up watermelon peels or green leaves, washing them and cutting them to make the only bowl of kimchi on the dining table. There is always free melon skin left in the porridge bowl. My mother was not satisfied, but she was soon given twenty cents by accident. Grandma said she wouldn't cook in the afternoon, and asked her and her aunt to buy two cakes baked in a straw oven after school. This kind of cake is made of coarse flour and has no oil. Baked brown with straw in the hanging oven, the taste is not as good as the crispy cake baked in the barrel oven, but it is enough to make mom smile compared with the porridge that she doesn't drink enough.

Grandma, who stopped cooking in the afternoon, tied four hairs on her back and went to Yuetang Station fifteen miles away. Next to the station, there is a black coal yard, and the same black people are dragging coal.

Since then, she has joined the black mobile army. At first, the station didn't let her pull rickshaws at all, and no woman was willing to work as a coolie in the coal pile, not to mention she was taking her children with her. She's Dont Ask For Help-pleading doesn't work, and she's very humble and sensitive. When she was unprepared, she took the bus to pull. No matter how the captain screamed and threatened not to give money, she just shook her ears and was busy, making people believe that unless she was killed, there was no way to make her disappear from the coal yard. She succeeded in one fell swoop and earned a chance to suffer. Every day, she pulls a rag on the shoulder pad stained with blood, and her whole body tilts at an acute angle with the ground. Step by step, she measures the detour of fifteen miles and measures the process of converting the distance of fifteen miles into a dime. Four hairs on my back are sleeping in grandma's breath and mountains of coal, waiting to wake up to meet a milk cake that may be stained with sweat.

Her deaf ears have thus become a powerful weapon, resisting many troubles. The fortune-teller Wu Shenpo and the tailor Lao Mo came to the door and mobilized her to give a childless doctor in Wuqiao 40 cents. Two people pestered her, gesticulating and persuading, one was more eloquent than the other, which meant that the doctor was in good condition. Don't you have to ask your child to jump into the honey pot? What good is it for you to keep it? I can't support my daughter-in-law, and I'm not afraid of collapse if I add a burden. Sin! Besides, I don't want your efforts these months to be in vain. People give 80 dollars, which is a good deal. ...

Grandma has been silent, either washing rice or sewing socks. When she was busy, she looked up as if she didn't know anything, or fanned the coal stove all over the room, letting the tailor and the witch run away.

"Forget it!" The tailor stamped his foot outside the door and said, "You can't cut the head of an elm tree. Sometimes it's bad luck."

Nothing can bring her more misfortune than her child's illness. This prediction came true soon, and soon Simao began to have a fever and blisters on his mouth. Grandma quickly fried calamus water, scraped it and fed mung bean soup, but she couldn't stop the rising body temperature.

"I don't have to go to the hospital anymore?" She talks to herself like a toothache. Two years ago, her little daughter ate rotten apples thrown by a fruit shop and lived in a health center. She spent more than 20 yuan on infusion and medicine. This figure is almost a disaster for her. Finally, she went with 40 cents, only17.90 cents on her, and borrowed 10 dollars from door to door on the way to the hospital. In the past, she never bowed to anyone. For the sake of four hairs, she faced her neighbor's cold threshold again and again, waiting for fifty cents or a piece of sympathy, and then bowed her head and said to the cold threshold, thank you.

The potion was injected into the child's body, and his body temperature plummeted, but he kept falling to the cold tentacles. When she was almost desperate, she met Wu Shenpo in the street. The reed in the wind made the witch make a gesture, meaning that the child was out of the body. He should go to Cailing Bridge and shout, maybe he can get it back. This is also a popular custom in the town. She didn't dare to hold out much hope for it. It is not unheard of that her first child has tuberculosis. Those cries cannot be captured overnight.

But she couldn't find another way to go, so she had to go out to try her luck in the middle of the night with four hairs. Just after the Lantern Festival, the crowd dispersed like burnt-out fireworks, and the eaves on the street were covered with faint shadows-hydrangeas, unicorns, watermelons and lanterns-swaying with the wind, scattering a hazy halo on the bare stone road, tearing her bent back long and short. Not very long two blocks, exhausted all grandma's strength. When she reached the Cailing Bridge, she couldn't shout a word at all, so she wrapped her hair tightly and kept muttering under the bridge.

The moon at the bottom of the bridge is round, making the world white and cold. Only her shadow is hot. ...

When I was a child, I learned the story of my grandmother and uncle Simao in bits and pieces from my mother's memories. Since then, I often have the same dream, dreaming of the high arch stone bridge in the town, dreaming that my grandmother is hunched and carrying a car full of sunset across the bridge. There is a boy sucking his fingers in the car, like me and uncle Simao. I told my mother about this dream, and she was very strange. How could you possibly know? There was no you then. Yeah, how should I know? However, I did have a salty dream over and over again, walking in the history of grandma dragging a scooter. )

two

In a blink of an eye, 24 years later, Qizhen's mossy face remains unchanged. Only rivers and time have passed. There are few houses and many children in the town-including me at the age of seven. After my father was transferred to the provincial capital, my mother dragged my sister and me back to Qizhen from Nanpu, the county capital, and took my sister who didn't go to school to work in Yuetang Silk Reeling Factory, entrusting me to my grandmother.

I walked into grandma's dark attic and jumped up in a bunch of weird laughter. There seems to be a pair of mysterious eyes behind the dark partition. Then I saw my grandmother buried in the dark, so thin, with black cracks on her hands and her face shrinking into a dried walnut. She was delighted to press me on the plow chair with one foot missing, and found out half a basket of longevity fruit from an invisible corner, saying that she had kept it for me.

It's about half a year old, and it tastes like moldy wood residue, which is disgusting. She quickly picked up some longevity fruit I dropped-I can find them in such a dark corner. If you eat it, you won't get sick, she stressed. You like 40 cents.

I vaguely remember my mother saying that my grandmother was very lucky in Cailing Bridge, and she pulled back the rest of her breath. From then on, every year, she went to Bodaiji in Wuqiao to send an incense money in exchange for two long-lived blue fruits-peanuts and almonds planted after Antang. When she meets children on the road, she will send them out, which is a wish to thank God. Every family has a difficult experience. If you are in a hurry, you will inevitably ask the Bodhisattva for help. If you are well, you will have to return the favor to the Bodhisattva. Even if I return the favor once, only my grandmother won't stop. She insists on prevention first-I don't know if it is longevity fruit's role, and my uncle and mother are really not sick-in my mother's memory, every time after the Lantern Festival, the children in the town will gather in the street, waiting for a sweet hope.

She would leave a small half basket for Simao, watch Simao proudly save it, and try a few pills every day until early summer.

This half basket of longevity fruit is ignored now. At least uncle Simao is not interested. He has graduated from normal university, stayed in the provincial experimental middle school to teach, and rarely went back to grandma's attic.

On the evening of arriving in Qizhen, grandma specially bought a white carp and poked it at the coal stove to cook. The green kitchen smoke attracted neighbors to probe and suspected that the attic was on fire-she never cooked at this time in the past, and at three o'clock in the afternoon she cooked a bowl of leftovers by herself, just a few shredded radish dipped in sauce. There is only one mouth left at home, so there is no need to save another meal, but it is difficult to correct the habit for many years.

She burned the sweet and sour carp, gave me half and kept half for herself. The next morning, she excitedly took me to Nanpu by boat, and then transferred to a long-distance bus to send four wool autumn clothes to the provincial capital. Along the way, she asked me to take the lunch box of sweet and sour fish, and be careful not to spill the fish soup.

We walked around the magnificent city many times and found a more magnificent experimental middle school single dormitory. My uncle Simao is rich in nutrition and grows gratifying. His expression is not strange at all. He asked me how I was studying without saying a word, ignoring the half carp that had been transported for three hours. Grandma touched the bright floor tiles and lamented that the ground in the provincial capital was easy to clean, but there was not enough garbage, which made my uncle's eyes pass a trace of sadness. She remembered something, and moved out a pair of new leather shoes from the bamboo basket, saying that someone had bought a new style, and repeatedly forced four hairs to change. Unable to cope, my uncle put on his leather shoes and forced a smile to urge us to eat.

No, grandma looked at shiny hair and shiny shoes with satisfaction. There are six ducks to feed at home. I have to go back. My uncle took us to the station at once, and the bus left. I looked back at the place where my uncle stood, and it was empty.

But my grandmother doesn't care if she has a pair of concerned eyes behind her. My arrival filled a lot of empty time for her, and kept her busy, frying eggs and morning tea, buying toys and dictionaries she had never seen before, dragging a scooter at the door to take me home after school ... Everything seemed to be repeating my uncle's childhood, just as she often shouted to me, "After eating eggs, there is not four hairs left ..." or "All these four hairs have been used."

I should be as happy as Simao, but I soon found that standing next to her would arouse some winking expressions-when she picked up a broom with dirt on her face and smiled at me and a group of children like an old witch in a fairy tale; When she stood under the dripping rain with a rotten oiled paper umbrella waiting for me after school; When she trotted along the river bank to chase a broken felt hat floating on the water and called for help in a hoarse voice-I would hear unbridled laughter and whispers without exception. I also know that she has a Japanese nickname. The children who have seen the movie "Going Home" think that she really looks like that ragged old lady Akiki. Those guys in the class called her like this behind my back, which made me vaguely hear, and I couldn't find an excuse to hit her.

She couldn't hear all this, so she pulled a load of coal in the afternoon and quickly brought me evening tea. Qizhen has the habit of "eating late tea", probably because dinner is too late, and snacks should be supplemented around 4 pm, and school is no exception. The evening tea in Qizhen Primary School is flowering steamed bread made in the canteen. Black and cold as a brick, the quality makes grandma very angry. She stubbornly refused to pay the school tea fee, and also used the same money to buy crystal rice cakes and bean paste buns and sent them to me.

I proudly ate the snow-white rice cake, and the girl at the same table looked at me sideways with a cold steamed bread, as if I had swallowed something dirty. After my grandmother sent me tea several times, I would rather be hungry than let her come again.

Many years later, I realized that Uncle Simao had a similar experience. After accumulating too many unbearable embarrassment, he almost formed an allergic resistance and escape to his grandmother. His brow is often as tight as I have ever seen, making it impossible to imagine the intimacy he and his grandmother had-at the age of nine, he would stand by the bridge with iron hooks and hemp ropes, waiting for her to pull the cart across the bridge and help with the hemp rope. He also helped other drivers cross the bridge, and his shoulders were red and swollen. Earned a few coins to make grandma very happy.

Gradually everything changed. I wonder if it's grandma's fault. After school, he developed a stutter. When he speaks, he always wants to argue with others. The most critical occasion always gets stuck like a broken machine and loses confidence. When he got to middle school, he stopped talking and simply spoke with his fist when he was upset. He often fights and fights, and his face is black and blue to protect the dignity of himself and his grandmother. On New Year's Day when he 15 years old, Qizhen Carton Factory was doing a general cleaning. A few lazy young workers had a brainwave and told grandma to pick up garbage and scraps of paper, saying that the place she passed was cleaner than the one she swept. There is indeed a lot of waste paper. Grandma has to do it quickly. The wind in winter is very uncoordinated, and scraps of paper are flying all over the sky. She waved a broom and chased them around in the yard, which made the young workers laugh. Four hairs passing by after school rushed up with a smile. He kicked over two of them and was heavily thrown on the lathe by the other three. He fainted without hearing grandma's scream.

When he opened his eyes and tried to get up, he was forcibly held down by a doctor. He struggled and said, I just accidentally bumped into it.

Careless? The doctor said that you have been lying down for almost a day and a night.

This lesson made his fist converge a lot, but his stuttering became worse. When he wanted to talk, especially with girls, he couldn't stop looking impatiently, as if grandma would flash unexpectedly.

Grandma knows nothing about it. Even if Simao stopped helping her clean up the garbage and gave her a warm coin, she reached for her coat and shoes, and she readily agreed. As always, she put her handprint on the credit list of the department store and waited for the payment at the end of the month. In her eyes, her son is still the four hairs sitting on a scooter sucking his fingers and waiting for her to take cookies on credit. When she took the cookies on credit, she wanted to make a joke: I'll give you my son so that I can pay the bill.

Mrs. seven old, who is in charge of the department store, grinned. Who dares to take your baby? Grandma turned around and shaved her nose. Ugly, is it worth a pack of cookies?

She handed the leather shoes to Simao, but noticed a pair of angry eyes. After thinking for a long time, she finally realized that she had said an unnecessary sentence before. Her son has grown up and is no longer something she can buy in a joke.

In fact, no one wants to give birth to her son and take over her suffering. Suffering is what she picked up willingly, and she can't change a pack of biscuits and rarely change back to happiness. In my impression, I only relax at night. She can curl up in a pear-wood chair to catch her breath, sharpen my pencil and mutter to herself, "Study hard, wool, stay for a long time, and don't waste me stuffing it into my pillow bit by bit ..."

A few deposit slips and change she had saved were stuffed into a gray cloth pillow, ready to buy a house for Uncle Simao and start a family. The pillow is not full, and half of her dreams are empty.

"You bought a building, remember grandma? Can you still think of grandma when you get home? Grandma threw herself on the head of a bed, and there will be saliva to drink in the future. You won't be fooling around again ... "

This is always what she complains about. I impatiently stopped writing my homework pen and stared at her.

She smiled shyly and cut it with a pencil sharpener close to the orange light for a long time. She must have nagged these words to Simao, which is the only enjoyment she has left. She turned out her simple wishes, basked in the sun repeatedly, relived the happiness and troubles of being a mother, and was often rudely interrupted by me or my uncle.

The wishes she planted will always bear fruit, and the silent four hairs actually won her a sigh of relief and was admitted to Nanjing Normal University. The day before entering school, Simao invited a group of classmates to get together. She generously took out her savings and carefully piled a table of vegetables. While washing vegetables, she lifted her apron and wiped her messy tears, wiping her joy and bitterness. When the laughing and noisy guests came in, she hurried to meet them, but the door of the attic was gently closed by my uncle.

She was blocked from the door, and the oily sleeves seemed to understand the meaning of closing the door, and some sadly retreated to the corner of the night. When the exultation in the attic dissipated, I saw my grandmother sitting alone under the street lamp at the corner of the lane after seeing off the guest's four hairs, which immediately solidified his excitement.

Grandma is sewing a pair of cotton socks that she can no longer wear, probably trying to stuff them into the school luggage. The light at the corner of the lane was covered with lavender smoke and the line was broken. She couldn't get into the eye of a needle and anxiously asked Simao for help. Four hairs silently squatted down to thread her, looked at her trembling hands and couldn't help looking away. Grandma didn't hear a drop of hot stuff hitting her cold shadow.

For a long time, I couldn't describe her accurately. Is she an old cotton-padded jacket that gives me warmth and inferiority? Is it the tree that will be forgotten by birds in the end? Maybe she is more like a river that irrigates me silently until one day it dries up completely and becomes a deeply cracked river bed, which will be engraved in my heart forever ...)

three

One day, she suddenly told her mother that she wanted to donate money to build a stone bridge in White Swan Pond.

Grandma was seventy-one when she said this. I am in the second grade of Qizhen Middle School. For six years, she continued to be busy for us, but we were not with her. The whole family moved to Yonghe Lane in the east of Qizhen, far from her old attic. My mother has repeatedly asked my grandmother to move in together. She felt that the wooden building in Yonghe Lane was too bright to sleep outside the attic. She still keeps a dark room, sweeping the floor in the morning and dragging a scooter in the afternoon. Because my mother stopped me, my grandmother stopped hauling coal in Yuetang, and was reluctant to let the scooter waste, so she went to the writing brush factory to tow paper boxes instead.

Every weekend, my mother will take my sister and me across town to visit her. Far away, I saw my grandmother lying at the window waiting for us. I'm here, and my grandmother is always happy and says a lot behind my back. She said, why don't you take the watch I gave you, Mao, because it can count ... Mao, don't drink sour plum soup at the school gate. ...

I shouted angrily, "I'm fourteen years old, and you still call me chicken feather!" " "Grandma smiled, grandma said, furry. ...

Around the age of 70, she began to feel like her boss's car. Her shoulders hurt all night, and eating long fruits and herbs didn't help. I went to Bodaiji and came back to tell my mother that I would build a merit bridge to relieve my illness.

Mom said they were all tired, so they should rest more in the future, and there was no need to throw money into the river. Besides, my uncle's grandmother's gray cloth pillows have been hollowed out. How can I afford to repair the bridge? If I want to fix it, I should let Simao fix it. He married the daughter of a university tutor and lived a very elegant life.

Grandma shook her head. Yes, my uncle Simao is too busy to eat at a key middle school, so he has no money to build a bridge. It's no use telling her not to sweep the floor. A screwdriver has worn her out all her life, but suddenly it is idle and rusts faster.

The bridge to be repaired is temporarily in the wish. About a year later, my father took our family to the dormitory in the provincial capital. On the eve of my leaving Habitat Town, I helped my father to drag a load of coal and put it under my grandmother's attic. My mother took off grandma's broken sheets and put on a new quilt, and her eyes couldn't help being sour. Only grandma's mood is not bad, and she even has a moment of pride when she thinks that all three children have flown into the provincial capital. When I left, it was foggy and raining, and the stone road was wet and clear, just like grandma's future time. Grandma changed her starched clothes and sent them to the bridge.

"Come back often-"

The ship has gone a long way and she is still lying on the railing of the bridge. We waved to her, and grandma moved her hand, and the dark red oiled paper umbrella was scraped off. She paused and didn't answer. Hard new clothes are wet and thin, like a tree without leaves.

This is the last time I saw her.

For two years, I left home to study in Nanpu Middle School. For two years, I waited helplessly for my family to break up. When I go home occasionally, my mother also tells me that my grandmother has been to the provincial capital, brought me new shoes and pens, and bought electric toys for my uncle's son Dongdong. She is still sweeping the floor and dragging the scooter, and all the money she earns is sent to the provincial capital. Even the senior cigarettes that my uncle smokes every month are bought by my grandmother. Because my aunt ordered my uncle to quit smoking, my uncle was desperate and let my grandmother know. She was very dissatisfied. She bought ashima cigarettes all over the floor and sent them to the experimental middle school.

It seems that your grandmother will be exhausted on the road one day, mom said helplessly.

But instead of being exhausted on the road, she collapsed in the idle days. No one expected that it would end like this, especially principal Feng of Qizhen Primary School, who felt unreasonable about grandma's departure. It was because of his coming forward that grandma won the opportunity to enjoy her old age.

It originated in an afternoon, when grandma dragged a scooter across the bridge, attracting a group of primary school students after school to help push the cart. This scene was captured by President Feng and immediately praised. However, grandma's haggard back made the principal feel distressed. He remembers that when he was a primary school student, he saw the old lady crossing the bridge in a trailer. After so many years, my son actually left her in the trailer in the town, and then associated with the rumor that the old lady raised her son, President Feng was almost indignant and determined to get back the right to be supported for her grandmother.

Grandma doesn't know what rights she has, but she also feels very angry, mainly because her aunt forbids her to pick up garbage, forbids her to buy cigarettes and snacks for her uncle and Dongdong with the money from picking up garbage, and forbids her uncle and Dongdong to visit her in Renju Town. So when President Feng came to ask for advice, she thought it was time for her aunt to explain.

The headmaster took action at once, wrote to my uncle and aunt's unit to put pressure on them, and went to the provincial capital at his own expense to show his grandmother and have a showdown with my uncle and aunt. As soon as the two sides met, the principal was surprised to find that my aunt was not as arrogant as she thought. In fact, my aunt's performance is quite reasonable, beneficial and restrained: we just hate her cleaning the trailer most, even if we persuade her, we won't change it. If we still pick up garbage at such a big age, where will the child's face go? She doesn't want to invite her to live in the city or send her money. It's not easy to earn some money by buying cigarettes and snacks, and it's even worse if it gets out, saying that we don't support the elderly and exploit their blood and sweat. I must make up my mind. If she doesn't stop sweeping the trailer, she won't let Dongdong meet her ...

What if she stops cleaning the trailer? The headmaster seized the opportunity to ask questions.

We donated money to let her live in her old age. Menstruation agreed without hesitation.

Principal Feng is satisfied that the matter has been solved satisfactorily. Grandma is not satisfied. She finally understood what was going on and jumped up from the pear chair at once. I don't want her money! I just want to pick up garbage and drag a scooter. My son smokes my cigarettes and my grandson eats the Sugar-Coated Berry I bought. ...

However, she won't have these opportunities again. Principal Feng stepped forward, quit the job of sweeping the floor and dragging cartons for grandma, gave grandma a postal passbook, and my uncle remitted the living expenses every month. The rest of the day was hectic. Grandma stayed in the attic all day, watching the dim light leaked from the sun move from east to west, her hands were shaking all the time, but she didn't know what to do in the end. Eating has become the main content of life. Sprinkle two handfuls of rice to cook porridge every day. The soup is clear as water and life is tasteless.

This is not a problem. Spring is coming. My grandmother keeps dozens of silkworms. In the morning, she goes to the mulberry garden to stroke some leaves to feed the baby silkworms, and by the way, she talks about the life of streaking. Call her four hairs. Tell me about me in those days. She took pains to review the fragmented contents of her life repeatedly, one after another happy and one after another sad. After talking too much, the silkworm held her head high, waiting for the next mulberry leaf, waiting for grandma to change something else.

In this way, she stayed until the early summer, watching the silkworms spin their silks hopelessly, watching them endlessly drain themselves, manage themselves and collect themselves. On the day of cocoon formation, my mother specially brought a cat back to Qizhen. Pushing open the attic door, grandma hung her head and leaned back on the tripod, her expression quiet and empty. She has always been so thin, her hair is sparse, and she has formed a scribbled cocoon like the last thread.

She left without saying hello to anyone. There are 8 thousand yuan left in the gray cloth pillow, which is almost all the savings and living expenses saved. After discussing with my uncle, my mother built a stone bridge in White Swan Pond according to my grandmother's wishes.

At that time, my family had split into two, and I was confused and separated from school by my father. That whole day, I thought in the morning light, happily picked up a magazine under the locust tree in the afternoon and hummed in the purple bamboo forest at dusk. No one, no one told me that my grandmother left and I didn't have time to say goodbye to her.

There are no words on grandma's stone bridge, because the bridge was built too hastily, and my mother can't think of any words to sum up grandma's life, so she always wants to make up for it later. But in the end, I found it unnecessary to make up the engraving. After only half a year of people coming and going, the river in White Swan Pond changed its course, and the water turned a corner, turning the bridge into a reed in the gravel. In other words, grandma's bridge has become an abandoned bridge.

The bridge is still silent, but my mother doesn't understand. This is actually a portrayal of my grandmother and her own life. Too many mothers in the world will always be the bridge between children and grandchildren. Life never belonged to them. Once they bear the burden of crossing the river alive, once they take off the footsteps and burdens that step on her, they unload the meaning of existence, which is equivalent to completely destroying her in loneliness. My grandmother, my mother, should I sing you a hymn, or four?

Three years later, I finally came, returned to Qizhen, returned to my grandmother's attic, and made a late farewell. This street and attic will soon disappear from Chichen forever.

The sunshine is still a ray, golden from the east to the west of the attic, and there is no breathing around. Staring at the empty pear-wood chair, I stood there for a long time speechless. Cricket stood patiently on the back of the chair, wondering whether I was waiting for my childhood to catch it or what to tell me, but I didn't understand. At last it was startled by a voice and jumped into the darkness.

I think it should hear my tears.

Should we sing an elegy? )