The carriage in memory

When I was a child, there were carriages in the northeast in winter. I especially like carriages. These carriages, which paced leisurely on the road, became the most curious means of transportation in my childhood. Coaches usually sit on the board next to horses, wearing cotton hats, thick cotton monkeys and holding whips. The sound of hooves rubbing against the road, the sound of bells tied around the horse's neck, and the accurate and powerful strength of the driver's whip all have a cold and heavy rhythm, which has become the most familiar and special sight in the northeast of winter.

The horse pulled the car aimlessly with its head down. They always know where to go.

I have observed a lot and know that there are carriages and donkeys. Horses are not as docile as donkeys. Donkeys are not as strong as horses. But as far as beauty is concerned, I prefer horses Carriage is usually used to sell vegetables. On my way to kindergarten, my mother will stop at the vegetable market to sell vegetables. My mother will go shopping. Adults are asking about the price of vegetables. I will go up to the horse and say, "Hello, Malaysia." "Mom, look at Malaysia looking at me. Malaysia likes me. " Sometimes even touch him. Horses always look at me quietly with long eyelashes, as if there is always a tear in their eyes.

I seem to understand his sadness, I seem to feel his helplessness, but all I can do is hope to get on the carriage one day and go all the way without asking where to go.

Owning a carriage is simply my dream.

Later, at grandma's house, I found a toy that could pretend to be a carriage-grandma's sewing machine.

Grandma will spread it with a cloth when she doesn't use the sewing machine. I climbed on the sewing machine, sat aside, raised my broom and drove my carriage. We have to drive! A carriage without a horse just flew out of thin air, in the imagination of a small head.

At this time, grandpa will blame me for being naughty, and grandma will cater to grandpa and let me down.

My carriage will never go far.

Later, carriages were rarely seen on the road, dusty dirt roads turned into asphalt roads, bungalows turned into buildings, and the road where I used to go to school by bike when I was a child was full of cars. The horses suddenly disappeared, just as I suddenly grew up. No one can tell the details of the process. Like a mushroom after the rain, I became an adult who couldn't see the carriage.

Occasionally I saw a carriage in the alley. There are only some sundries left in the carriage. The horse stood under a dirty wall. I passed him and stopped for a while. He looked at me and I looked at him. I don't have the courage to reach out and touch him.

Horse, I'm afraid the horse won't recognize me. He gave his sorrow to other children.

And I became the same person as the driver.

Time is stingy, memories will always be sealed forever, but there are still image-like fragments in a corner of my heart. In retrospect, things like old newspapers are just as simple as writing a paragraph quietly.

My senses are deteriorating, but fortunately, the horse in my heart is still alive.