One crisp autumn day, my friend was driving a pickup truck, and I embarked on the road back to my hometown.
Entering Baiyun Bazi, you can see the white stone in your hometown far away. One thousand feet on the wall, standing in front. The barrier is my hometown where I was born and raised-pulse rotation.
Pulse turn, a strange name, has an extraordinary origin. According to my dead father, I don't know which dynasty, which generation, a teacher of Yin and Yang traveled all the way to Long Mai, not far from Wan Li. When I arrived at my hometown, I thought I had found the dragon cave, but I found that the pulse gas suddenly turned and disappeared.
The teacher of Yin and Yang was sad and disappointed, and died of depression. In order to commemorate him, people buried the teacher of Yin and Yang here and named him Pulse Turn. My ancestors, after textual research, are descendants of Zeng Shen. When Huguang filled Sichuan, he moved from Changsha, Hunan to Maizhuan and settled there. My generation has been over 400 years.
When I arrived at a place called Erdaoshui, I entered the village where my hometown was located. Now it is called Jinzhuyuan, and it used to be called Golden Saddle. "Nine miles and thirteen bends, silver horse and gold saddle". The first half of the sentence is about the landform of Zhazi River passing through our village, and the second half comes from nowhere.
This road is an adobe road, spiraling up the hillside. The road in my hometown has always been a knot in my heart, which makes me daunting. Before you build this adobe road, you should climb up the mountain road along the ridge when you go home. Although it is less than ten miles, the mountain road is steep and rugged. Up and down is a kind of torture. It is said that the roads in many villages have hardened, but the roads in my hometown are still as primitive and rough as those built twenty years ago. I don't know what the reason is, which puzzles me.
Along the way, swaying, beating around the bush, dangerous. Fortunately, friends often drive on such roads and are skilled. Although it was the first time to drive on this road, it was still near misses.
The higher you go, the fewer people there are. At this time of year, it should be the season when corn is ripe. In my memory, the fields covered with slopes are all green and yellow corn forests. As full as a horn, dazzling. However, apart from dense trees and thorns, we can no longer see patches of farmland and rows of farmhouses.
Where is the camphor tree slope in the dream? What about the ancient well in the dream? What about the dams, terraces, gullies, plateaus, bays, houses and houses in the dream? I seem to have walked into a strange wilderness. Occasionally, I saw a family hiding in the bushes from the window, either broken walls or dead reinforced concrete piles. The more you walk, the more discouraged you become. A word popped up in my heart: little rope.
The terrain began to flatten, and my hometown arrived. Apart from the river valley, the village in my hometown is the flattest. At that time, the collective, the production team in my hometown had more than 40 fireworks and nearly 300 people. Earth walls and tile houses of the same color are lined up along the mountain roots, just like a small market. Cocks crow and dogs bark, people come and go, and it's very lively.
In my hometown, kiln factories and pot factories have been operating for many years. The master of making kilns and pots is an ancestral craft. Boiled pots and pans are very famous and exported to Fengjie, Wushan and Badong. As far as I can remember, this factory was still in operation for some time. Kilns and jars are burned twice a year. When the kiln is opened, some inferior jars and jars become the welfare that the production team sends to every household.
During the slack season, outsiders often cross mountains and carry the burden to sell these defective kiln goods. Those who don't have cash often bring some local products, and inevitably eat fruits and exchange things for things. When I was a child, I was very greedy. I often pretend that my parents are not paying attention. I traded those defective pots and pans for food. Although my mother said I was a delicious guy and a man without a family, she just scolded me and didn't really care. People who exchange kiln goods with foreign accents also bring foreign news and hearsay here, which becomes people's talk after dinner and keeps the originally closed places well informed.
Suddenly, I saw the bag, and my heart was very happy. There should be someone ahead.
Twenty years have passed, and it is also on such a sunny and crisp autumn day, when the fields are full of corn and yellow shells, I invited my neighbors from house to house to eat in my old house, thanking them for their care and love. After dinner, I will take my parents out of my hometown where I have lived for dozens of generations and live in a place called Hongshiya near Baziji Town. Although moving is a happy event, it is difficult to leave home. Although parents pretend to smile, it is inevitable in their hearts. I can see that.
To tell the truth, although I love my hometown, I don't have much nostalgia, but I feel relieved. The land, mountains and old houses under the parents' names were given to my sister and brother-in-law. Some unnecessary things will be given away after meals.
The highway enters from the east end. I said to myself: Hello, hometown! I'm back!
The family in the easternmost part of the country is named Jin. Two brothers and uncles all have jobs. One is a cadre and the other is a worker. Life has always been one of the best in the team. Shortly after my family left, the two brothers moved away one after another. One of them sold his house to another family named Jin. Speaking of it, the current owner of the house is my childhood partner, and now he is the village head. My friend said that he and my partner are classmates and would like to visit his home.
The house is still an old house, with a brick wall. Except for most of them, nothing has changed, but the old one is terrible. But this house is one of the best in the team. There were no dogs, so we went in.
"Little dad, is that you?" A woman in her fifties was pleasantly surprised. This is my partner's wife. In my hometown, my peers are tall, and most people are either my nephew or my grandson. At that time, she was a beauty! After greeting, my friend asked for his phone number when I learned that my partner had not returned from a business trip. After the phone call, we agreed to go to his house for dinner later.
My partner's wife is from another production team, above the production team in my hometown. She has an aunt about her age. When I was a child, my partner and I often went to chop wood near her house. Once, I met her aunt and nephew, who were also chopping wood. I don't know how to get involved in marrying. I discussed with my partner, according to the seniority, I said I was looking for his wife's aunt, and he was looking for his current wife. Unexpectedly, he really married her. Thought of here, I can't help laughing.
The car continued to rock forward. Except for the corn planted on the flat land, all the hillsides have become dense forests, and six or seven houses, one east and one west, are sparsely hidden among the green trees under the mountain roots. I can't see anyone, but I can hear sporadic barking of chickens and dogs.
A few years ago, I heard my sister and brother-in-law say that the old house collapsed, which I know. However, I still stubbornly look for the figure of my old house. When I was fifteen, I left home to study and have lived in my hometown for about seventeen or eighteen years. But this old house bears many joys and sorrows when I was young, many young dreams and frivolous?
My hometown and old house are my roots! I struggled to find it, but I couldn't find it I really can't find it. I feel horrible. Yes, all I can't find is the old house? In the past twenty years, I have been busy with things other than life and lost too many things. Lost, there are many, just like this old house, which can never be found again.
My friends praised my hometown and exclaimed that it was a paradise. Indeed, there are trees all around, just like screens. "We look at the green trees around your village, and the mountains in the distance are light blue" describes this scene. Blue sky and white clouds, fresh air, birds and flowers, quiet and peaceful. I never thought my hometown would be like this and so beautiful.
When I moved away from my hometown, I was looking for the peach blossom garden in my life. As a result, I didn't find the peach blossom garden. But settled in a city with dirty air, overcrowding and full of interest. God, this joke is a little too big.
My sister's brother-in-law's house is surrounded by thorns and weeds. It is not difficult to transform. What my hometown looks like now is really an ideal choice for health preservation. Planting a few fields, feeding two pigs, raising a few chickens and ducks, enjoying a green life and living a plain life, isn't it a happy little fairy?
It's just too quiet. It's so quiet that people are flustered. Staying for ten days and a half months may be fresh and poetic, but staying in this relatively closed environment for a few years may be another matter. For a moment, I suddenly felt that I understood the Wuling fisherman in the Peach Blossom Garden. I decided to persuade my sister and brother-in-law to give up their ideas and buy a place in the dam to repair the house.
People come to make out one after another. I smoked cigarettes with them and chatted with them. I know, they are the last people to stay in their hometown. Although I stayed, I looked carefree and satisfied. The cigarettes they handed me were usually smoked by people like me, and the grade was not low. Fortunately, when I set out, I had a brainwave and bought several packets of better cigarettes. It can be seen that the lives of ordinary people have really been better in recent years. I declined their kind invitation one by one, arguing that I would go back at night.
My partner, the later village head, called to say that the meal was ready and asked us to go to his house for dinner. When I was leaving, my neighbors repeatedly reminded me that I must go home when I am free. I nodded gratefully.
My friend turned around and staggered towards my partner's house.
I haven't drunk the water from my hometown for a long time. I have eaten the rice from my hometown. It smells nice and warm. My partner is very comfortable, satisfied and proud of the present environment and life. Friends are infected, too. I agree, because I know that such an environment and life, although envied by me, is really what I yearn for, but not necessarily what I really need. Comfortable shoes, only the feet know.
At sunset, we refused our partner's sincere retention, and we embarked on our way home. The pickup truck slowly spiraled down, and the deeper it went, the more open and clear it became. When the pickup truck drove into Bazili Avenue, all my hanging hearts fell to the ground. I said to myself again: Hello, hometown! I'm leaving!
I know my hometown is my hometown. No matter where I am, no matter how my hometown changes, my hometown will always accompany my memory and become my most beautiful miss and concern.
The pickup truck accelerated, the wind shook and drove home.