A ticket car heading for home
I was sitting on the ticket back home, recalling many times when I went home. Home is like the center of gravity of the earth. The wheels of the ticket car cross different longitudes and latitudes, getting closer to it bit by bit.
It was a the Winter Solstice many years ago. I went to high school in my hometown. The Winter Solstice had a Greater Snow. The streets were covered with snow. The day I hurried from school to the bus stop, it was getting dark. I panicked into a car and touched my pocket, leaving only one dollar and sixty cents. But the ticket to my home was two yuan. I stood embarrassed in front of the conductor, embarrassed to say that I had not enough money for the ticket in my pocket, and was forty cents short. She looked at me and saw that I was wearing a deep myopic mirror. A student in a blue and white uniform. "look at you as a student," she said. "it's all right. You can find a seat," she said, taking the change I had handed her. I got into the car and sat in the back. Next to the window glass covered with a layer of bright drops of water. The ticket car rolled over the thick ice and snow, rolling forward, a burst of sound, as if a wave rolling over the bottom of the car. The car broadcast suddenly rang. The melodies of an old song curled round me. I rubbed my hand through the wet window, drew a clear and clean glass, and saw the crimson glow on the snow-covered wheat field. Like a flame burning on a silver wheat field.
When I got home, the night was deep and the barking echoed in the dark alley. My father and mother had had dinner and they were sitting on a stool watching TV. I was cold and hungry. My father murmured against me that he should not hurry home on such a dark and cold night, suffering and dangerous. My mother looked at me hungry and cold. She interrupted her father and said, "Don't complain when the child comes home all the way back. It so happens that today the Winter Solstice still has some cabbage pork dumplings in his porcelain basin. It's a cold day." "Children don't eat dumplings to freeze their ears. Let's make dumplings," said Mother, as she walked to the kitchen, pulled the lights off, and tied her apron in a cloth. She was tense and orderly in the yellow light. My father sat in front of the stuffing basin and made dumplings without delay. They were busy for more than an hour and made me two bowls of hot, fragrant dumplings. Many years passed. I shed tears when I thought of the busy parents in the light that night.
I also think of my first year of work, when I worked in a small town on the border between Henan and Anhui, far from home. During the Mid-Autumn Festival, the company was off for three days, and I rushed to the bus stop after work in the afternoon. Get on the last bus. It was dark when the bus started, and the town was full of lights. I needed a four or five hour ride and it was about 2:00 in the morning when I got home. It was bumpy and bumpy. My heart is filled with a strong sense of happiness and steadfastness. It is the power of home, the temperature of home, the light of home, the weakness of my body and mind, the absence of darkness before my eyes, the absence of confusion in my thoughts.
The ticket car was flying on the highway. A bright moon was running with the wheels outside the window. The lights of the town in the moonlight were flying like fireflies before my eyes. I was already home late at night. The light and clear moonlight is like the rippling spring of the ripples in the village. The village is silent and seems to be able to hear the sound of the moonlight flowing. I gently clap the house. Soon the lights in the room were on. Mother shuffled her shoes and opened the door in clothes. She asked me if I was hungry when I came back so late. I said I was very sleepy. Just want to sleep in bed. My mother said she expected me to come back a few days ago, washing my bedroom quilt, sheets, pillows, and exposure to the sun. I entered the bedroom. I fell asleep in a clean and warm bed. To this day, I still seem to have the warmth of a quilt in my body.
I thought of a spring before years ago , I quit from a real estate company . I was looking for a job in the big city . I was sitting on a bus and I didn ' t know where to stop living . One day I was sitting on a bus , and I jumped off and drove to the bus stop . The bus I was riding was still home , but I bought tickets to the county seat .
The eyes of my father ' s brass - yellow face , the eyes of the bright eyes , and the palm of my cocoon . My father ' s life detail is like a film in my eyes . My eyes are staring out of my eyes . My tears , like a flood , are coming out of my eyes . My tears , like a flood , are coming out of my eyes . My tears , like a flood , come out of my eyes . My tears , like a flood , come out of my eyes . My tears , like a flood , come out of my eyes . My tears , like a flood , come out of my eyes . My tears , like a flood , come out of my eyes . My eyes are far from the house of my family ' s blue wall , and the old poplar in my family ' s yard is already green , such as an umbrella , and a leaf and leaves .
After arriving at the hospital in the county , I found my father ' s ward . I pushed the door in and saw my father lying on the couch . His face was haggard , and he sat up and smiled . He said slowly to me , " I . No . It ' s a little difficult . " I looked at him talking , and my tears turned in my eyes .
That day I bought my father a meal, watched him give him a few drops, talked with him, went to the bathroom with him, walked with him in the spring light downstairs of the hospital, and took out my electric razor from my shoulder bag to give him. He insisted on not giving it. "Dad," I joked, "next time I come home with my girlfriend. She'll jump at you when she sees you with a shabby beard and a sloppy beard!" "he smiled, took the razor I gave him, pressed the switch button and shaved off his beard on the spot. He looked at me with a smile and said," you have to. I dressed myself up. Clean, next time you go home and bring back my girlfriend. "my father and I haven't been so close in years. It reminds me of the time I used to play with my father when I was a kid. In front of my father." I always seem to be a child and never grow up.
The next day my father asked me about my job. I didn't dare to say that I had quit my job and had no job yet. I was afraid he was worried about me, so I lied about my recent job and got along well with my colleagues. He nodded his head. Then he urged me to return to the city, afraid of affecting my work. That afternoon, he told me to be honest, to be willing to suffer losses, and to take more responsibility in dealing with the people in the outside world, and then he urged me to return to the city, afraid of affecting my work. Father finished the drip and I left. He took me outside the door of the hospital. When I walked a long way and was about to turn into another street, I looked back and saw my father still standing there. The bright spring light set off his grey hair. I suddenly found my father was getting older, as if he were far away from me.
Looking back on the past of the ride home, my heart was full of sweetness and bitterness. One day, we were too old to grow old. Our heads were full of splendor. We stooped and packed our heavy luggage back into the ticket to our home, and we must recall many times when we went home. We were a group of children who were away from home, and our home was always calling us. The ticket car heading for home is always waiting for us.