押庄龙虎

Set Home | Add to Favorites | Contact Us
Position: Home > Writer Tea House > New Works >

Two articles outside of "Mother's Day" (published in Tianjin Literature, Issue 6, 2019)

Source: Hubei Writers Network Published: 2019-08-20 Author: Handan

Mother's Day

On Mother's Day, early in the morning, there was a bunch of flowers on the delivery tricycle at the gate of the community, like a child who needed to claim. There is a card on the ribbon with the address and name on the card.

The little brother expresses himself one by one, making phone calls one by one. I say flowers! He said Mother's Day! The air was full of joy. It seems that these flowers belong to me and he, but they are not, but the irrelevant happiness is happy.

This festival is too grand, a festival all over the world. Everyone has a mother, that is the first rainbow in life, and childhood hangs in our sky.

A friend said that he could no longer remember his mother, when his family was poor and could not take pictures. No matter how I recall now, I can't remember the appearance of my mother. Therefore, all mothers with white hair in the world are imagined as their own mothers. When he first went to school, he cried for no new schoolbag. Mother just sat silently watching. Tired, I fell asleep. Waking up the next day, a brand new schoolbag was placed on his bedside, and his mother used the urea bag to wash, dry, and sew overnight. He also used a rag to spell a small flower and a bush of green grass. It was the sun of his life and all his memories of his mother. It didn't take long for her mother to die.

A friend once said in Weili that his mother was unorganized and lived alone in his old age. When they couldn't take care of themselves, they asked her for a nanny. He was still very poor in the 1980s. He worked as an editor in a nearby province. Every time he returned, he set foot in his mother's place and put ten yuan under his pillow. Once I left and turned back, I found that the babysitter was withdrawing money under the pillow, and it was known that it was an extra tip from the mother. His previous money did just that. The dying mother has always maintained the demeanor of a big family girl and the ignorance of life in her old age.

Another friend said that her mother was very lonely in her old age and rented a 15-square-meter cottage in an old street, but she was very content. Every day after work, he goes to sit and takes a few books with his mother. Whenever this time, the mother stood on both sides of the alley and looked at him, and was very happy to see him. When a friend spoke, the cigarette in his hand turned into a white line, and it was gloomy outside. Raindrops hung on the wide glass window and flowed downwards.

These beautiful mothers are long gone, just remembered from time to time.

The flowers that can be sent out are undoubtedly happy, because there is another number that can be dialed.

My mother is still healthy and often gives us something to eat. This is our blessing. I chose a silk blouse for her that day, with green flowers and white flowers, much like this fine porcelain May. My son was also on the phone and told me to go out and spend more money to make him happy and to work hard to make sense. At this point I was embarrassed, because it was not easy for him. When my son was studying in the city, I would buy a bunch of flowers whenever I was busy. When I was studying at Xi'an University, I would also ask someone to bring a box of Dove chocolates, which he loved since childhood. Later on, he didn't care much anymore. He grew up and completely belonged to himself.

The days with flowers are good, life is not a dry well, and sometimes aromatic sounds are required to emerge inadvertently.

In WeChat, some people took pictures of their mothers, from young children to green branches and green leaves, to the twilight years on the rocking chair. Mothers are so beautiful. Silk stand-up collar cheongsam, hairstyles on the cards in the 1930s and 1940s, ancient times, and the past, I only miss them deeply.

Mother's love, the candlelight in my heart, wipe it, and it lights up.

Six one

This morning, someone was looking for "White Sailing Ship", a Russian classic, the story of a seven-year-old boy. The white sailing ship is his mirage, his dream father. In childhood, beautiful imagination, charming colors, unattainable warmth and happiness are loaded in it.

When the deer in the gods disappeared, the boy began to despair. On the first day, he clearly saw that he was taking his child, walking gracefully by the lake, and the flesh and blood became blurred in the blink of an eye, which made him unbearable. After the little world collapsed, the boy became ill, had a high fever, and headed for the sea. It turned into a tail fish and swam towards the dream white sailing boat. This is the whole plot of this book, good and evil, nature and humans, adults and children, white and dark, sober and confused, all included.

Life is a sad ballad, everyone has a white sailing boat in their dreams, that is our childhood.

We are all children by the stream, as I always said. Because no matter how old you look at yourself. What do you see? Innocence! This is the myth of not being old.

Pure, sincere, and clean, how natural it is for a child, but not easy for an adult who goes deep. On the way, it is common to be dusty or even ashamed, and even to be self-righteous. Even if the so-called matureness is heavy, sometimes it is just a shallow synonym. So naive, often the diamond in the heart, the wings that flicker in the night.

Shi Tiesheng's "Memory and Impression" can not be remembered "I and the Temple of Earth", but "Xiaoheng". At least that's the case, I thought it was the most wonderful chapter in it. Xiao Heng is a handsome man, like a girl and a boy, and his mother alone. That woman was not necessarily his mother, rough and black, and illiterate. Maybe it was just an affiliate or a past helper, but it was good for Xiaoheng.

One day, the family copied dozens of satins and several silver dollars, and the whole house was gorgeous. Under the bright light of the sun, he threw the silver dollar up and landed on the satin. There was no silence. Xiaoheng's mother knelt down under the old begonia tree, and the sound of slamming straps shook her leaves. Xiaoheng came out by himself, took the belt and continued to pump, his voice was even harsher. Xiaoheng's mother was relieved at this time.

Why is Xiaoheng beating her mother with tears on her face? Because he has to protect himself, show his attitude, and stay in Beijing. Too many similar things happened in this alley, he knew what to do. However, because he was too young to stay, he left with his mother. His mother still held him in the cold wind.

This text was written silently, making people silent for a long time.

Even after reading a post, a Shanghai professor told his daughter how to educate a bullfrog, which led to a three-year-old grandson frowning, twitching and suffering from frog disease. Just speechless. High-grade kindergartens and school district rooms are not so important and are all anxious. The examples of success I have seen are mostly just peaceful waters, an open study, and a subtle habit. These come from the child's first environment. A habit is a lifetime, the external binding, so rigid and suffocating.

I want to say a lot, about the children, about the soft and white clouds, the world seen by Ye Ye's little eyes, can it be a clean blue sky that can be carried?

Last night I walked in the park. The sky was just raining and the fog was heavy. People are light, surrounded by blurs, the water surface is full and rises a lot. The lotus has not yet opened, and it is still Xinhe. Cui is like a fresh slurry of green apples. In the dark night, the sound of her grandmother growing up can be heard.

Send two sets of skirts to the bear, the simplest style, without any burden. Give up all lace and lace, just a cotton wrap. It's comfortable, that's all it means. Unconsciously, she was three years old, and she was beautiful enough, like a small lake, without any decoration.

Birth day

Fifty years is just a short chapter. Even under the microscope, it is only a moment in history or negligible. Yuren is a long scroll, and there will be no second 50-year-old in life, let alone a person who is negligent in exercise.

It ’s true that I do n’t miss the past. Those days that are scattered are windy children, and sooner or later they must return nature, which is its attribute.

What needs to be claimed is now, every present now. Just like I like myself now, like an empty bottle, it's easy to empty everything, and I can re-adopt some images. They are transparent and reflect some favorite looks.

After all, one's own is beautiful. From this side, you can see the other side, like the leaf covered by the sun, cool yourself, and return the world to peace. Some people and things are no longer concerned, they are just one of them, growing in their own bottles. Many memories do not need to be frozen, they have been turned into clear water and returned to spring. "Selfish" is sometimes a good word. Without affecting others, it can be used as a synonym for freedom, your own freedom, the freedom of others, and the selfish respect of others. Friction is due to being too close. You have to maintain your own independence and the beauty of the independence of others, so jade has a shell, and it must be wrapped in a layer of transparency.

One must grow up, most of this growth comes from the heart. It is tough and endless, it is a real growth; unlike the arc of the flesh, it is already sagging. First the waist, then the skin, bones, and heart. You can't stop the betrayal of the figure. Many well-made workmen and their favorite clothes are beaten into the cold. Those silks with good body temperature only touched the cold fingers in the moment of opening the cabinet. The cervical spine and lumbar spine also began to be stiff and painful, and even went on strike; white hair sprung up like bamboo shoots, endlessly, these were normal, but quietly accepted. Your body is no longer the tenderness that your parents gave you at first, fullness during development, and health at first marriage. Every day changes, and I no longer know, and I have to re-familiarize myself.

Years are the path that everyone must pass, and sometimes they are gently erased. What is lost is only the form. What has survived will become a ripple of thoughts. So the skin bag is light and not worth it. This is what the 50-year-old wants to say. Even if it has been said in the past, it is not sincere in thought.

Nails and hair used to be a beautiful extension of a woman. Every day flowers that grow out of her body are stretched and glorious by it. Now it is endless trouble, you can't stop. This kind of variation in body language makes people helpless. If they ca n’t go out, they hope to shave a thick hair and let it fall like a snow flake. Bald head wandering around every corner of the room, eating, sleeping, typing, and sealing it in its own container, it might be a kind of happiness. A person buried in loneliness will not be lonely. Loneliness is a luxury, but you have to come to the door and put on a hat in winter, not for the style, to keep warm, but to cover the white hair. Such vanity is still maintained.

Unfortunately, I have inherited the inheritance of my parents. When my son was in high school, he traveled with relatives to travel far away, and suddenly he called at night and asked me to get him back. The reason is that others say that his mother stepped on the generation and had gray hair. He called that bad talk. I replied that this is the case. Your grandfather and grandmother blew early, and I also blew early. He was a little surprised, said for a long time, that was not allowed to say that they did not have this right. At that moment, I was very moved. He didn't know yet that his mother had begun to age. Such aging will continue day by day. This is my own business and has nothing to do with his growth. At that time, he was in a period of rebellion. He was not good. His body was full of thorns. He didn't understand yet. Language was everyone's patent. It had nothing to do with reality, and it was only related to the focal length of the pupil.

I like a sentence, "People need clothing, food, shelter, or work and rest, similar to animals, that is natural life; but human beings have developed a great cultural life from natural life, which is different from natural life." So God loves us, except Natural life has another life. When one life ages, the other life grows.

Enjoying yourself is happy after all.

On the day of her birthday, she wore a white cloth, and her friend drew a crane on it. She said that she painted on her clothes for the first time and the last time. With the stamp and the title, everything is simple. This feeling is very special, like the wind on the lake, light. Crane, Jiehe, white satin, fell to the dead. Not only prolonging the years, life and death are in peace.

Yu Guosheng didn't care, but now he has passed the age that needs attention. Calm days are comfortable, hiding in the dark is very comfortable. When I was a child, my mother put two boiled eggs in her schoolbag every birthday, and she would have a bowl of longevity noodles after school. When I grow up, I don't get too old. I have received some gifts and greetings, which are the time spent by others.

The annual rings are beautiful, and those patterns are circled and engraved by yourself. It's like when I finished typing these words silently, I had passed the awn and entered midsummer. The time worm slid deeper, and the plant exploded outside the window. Green, more and more peaceful, this world looks good in every way.

Address: Hubei Writers Association, No. 1 Cuiliu Street, Donghu Road, Wuchang District, Wuhan City, Hubei Province Tel: 027-68880616 027-68880679
Copyright @ Hubei Writer's Network. All Rights Reserved. E ICP No. 09015726 hiwui.cn
Technical Support: Hubei Daily

Two articles outside of "Mother's Day" (published in Tianjin Literature, Issue 6, 2019)

2019-08-20 16-43-49

Mother's Day

On Mother's Day, early in the morning, on the delivery tricycle at the gate of the community, there were a bunch of flowers, like children who need to claim one by one. There is a card on the ribbon with the address and name on the card.

The little brother expresses himself one by one, making phone calls one by one. I say flowers! He said Mother's Day! The air was full of joy. It seems that these flowers belong to me and he, but they are not, but the irrelevant happiness is happy.

This festival is too grand, a festival all over the world. Everyone has a mother, that is the first rainbow in life, and childhood hangs in our sky.

A friend said that he could no longer remember his mother, when his family was poor and could not take pictures. No matter how I recall now, I can't remember the appearance of my mother. Therefore, all mothers with white hair in the world are imagined as their own mothers. When he first went to school, he cried for no new schoolbag. Mother just sat silently watching. Tired, I fell asleep. Waking up the next day, a brand new schoolbag was placed on his bedside, and his mother used the urea bag to wash, dry, and sew overnight. He also used a rag to spell a small flower and a bush of green grass. It was the sun of his life and all his memories of his mother. It didn't take long for her mother to die.

A friend once said in Weili that his mother was unorganized and lived alone in his old age. When they couldn't take care of themselves, they asked her for a nanny. He was still very poor in the 1980s. He worked as an editor in a nearby province. Every time he returned, he set foot in his mother's place and put ten yuan under his pillow. Once I left and turned back, I found that the babysitter was withdrawing money under the pillow, and it was known that it was an extra tip from the mother. His previous money did just that. The dying mother has always maintained the demeanor of a big family girl and the ignorance of life in her old age.

Another friend said that her mother was very lonely in her old age and rented a 15-square-meter cottage in an old street, but she was very content. Every day after work, he goes to sit and takes a few books with his mother. Whenever this time, the mother stood on both sides of the alley and looked at him, and was very happy to see him. When a friend spoke, the cigarette in his hand turned into a white line, and it was gloomy outside. Raindrops hung on the wide glass window and flowed downwards.

These beautiful mothers are long gone, just remembered from time to time.

The flowers that can be sent out are undoubtedly happy, because there is another number that can be dialed.

My mother is still healthy and often gives us something to eat. This is our blessing. I chose a silk blouse for her that day, with green flowers and white flowers, much like this fine porcelain May. My son was also on the phone and told me to go out and spend more money to make him happy and to work hard to make sense. At this point I was embarrassed, because it was not easy for him. When my son was studying in the city, I would buy a bunch of flowers whenever I was busy. When I was studying at Xi'an University, I would also ask someone to bring a box of Dove chocolates, which he loved since childhood. Later on, he didn't care much anymore. He grew up and completely belonged to himself.

The days with flowers are good, life is not a dry well, and sometimes aromatic sounds are required to emerge inadvertently.

In WeChat, some people took pictures of their mothers, from young children to green branches and green leaves, to the twilight years on the rocking chair. Mothers are so beautiful. Silk stand-up collar cheongsam, hairstyles on the cards in the 1930s and 1940s, ancient times, and the past, I only miss them deeply.

Mother's love, the candlelight in my heart, wipe it, and it lights up.

Six one

This morning, someone was looking for "White Sailing Ship", a Russian classic, the story of a seven-year-old boy. The white sailing ship is his mirage, his dream father. In childhood, beautiful imagination, charming colors, unattainable warmth and happiness are loaded in it.

When the deer in the gods disappeared, the boy began to despair. On the first day, he clearly saw that he was taking his child, walking gracefully by the lake, and the flesh and blood became blurred in the blink of an eye, which made him unbearable. After the little world collapsed, the boy became ill, had a high fever, and headed for the sea. It turned into a tail fish and swam towards the dream white sailing boat. This is the whole plot of this book, good and evil, nature and humans, adults and children, white and dark, sober and confused, all included.

Life is a sad ballad, everyone has a white sailing boat in their dreams, that is our childhood.

We are all children by the stream, as I always said. Because no matter how old you look at yourself. What do you see? Innocence! This is the myth of not being old.

Pure, sincere, and clean, how natural it is for a child, but not easy for an adult who goes deep. On the way, it is common to be dusty or even ashamed, and even to be self-righteous. Even if the so-called matureness is heavy, sometimes it is just a shallow synonym. So naive, often the diamond in the heart, the wings that flicker in the night.

Shi Tiesheng's "Memory and Impression" can not be remembered "I and the Temple of Earth", but "Xiaoheng". At least that's the case, I thought it was the most wonderful chapter in it. Xiao Heng is a handsome man, like a girl and a boy, and his mother alone. That woman was not necessarily his mother, rough and black, and illiterate. Maybe it was just an affiliate or a past helper, but it was good for Xiaoheng.

One day, the family copied dozens of satins and several silver dollars, and the whole house was gorgeous. Under the bright light of the sun, he threw the silver dollar up and landed on the satin. There was no silence. Xiaoheng's mother knelt down under the old begonia tree, and the sound of slamming straps shook her leaves. Xiaoheng came out by himself, took the belt and continued to pump, his voice was even harsher. Xiaoheng's mother was relieved at this time.

Why is Xiaoheng beating her mother with tears on her face? Because he has to protect himself, show his attitude, and stay in Beijing. Too many similar things happened in this alley, he knew what to do. However, because he was too young to stay, he left with his mother. His mother still held him in the cold wind.

This text was written silently, making people silent for a long time.

Even after reading a post, a Shanghai professor told his daughter how to educate a bullfrog, which led to a three-year-old grandson frowning, twitching and suffering from frog disease. Just speechless. High-grade kindergartens and school district rooms are not so important and are all anxious. The examples of success I have seen are mostly just peaceful waters, an open study, and a subtle habit. These come from the child's first environment. A habit is a lifetime, the external binding, so rigid and suffocating.

I want to say a lot, about the children, about the soft and white clouds, the world seen by Ye Ye's little eyes, can it be a clean blue sky that can be carried?

Last night I walked in the park. The sky was just raining and the fog was heavy. People are light, surrounded by blurs, the water surface is full and rises a lot. The lotus has not yet opened, and it is still Xinhe. Cui is like a fresh slurry of green apples. In the dark night, the sound of her grandmother growing up can be heard.

Send two sets of skirts to the bear, the simplest style, without any burden. Give up all lace and lace, just a cotton wrap. It's comfortable, that's all it means. Unconsciously, she was three years old, and she was beautiful enough, like a small lake, without any decoration.

Birth day

Fifty years is just a short chapter. Even under the microscope, it is only a moment in history or negligible. Yuren is a long scroll, and there will be no second 50-year-old in life, let alone a person who is negligent in exercise.

It ’s true that I do n’t miss the past. Those days that are scattered are windy children, and sooner or later they must return nature, which is its attribute.

What needs to be claimed is now, every present now. Just like I like myself now, like an empty bottle, it's easy to empty everything, and I can re-adopt some images. They are transparent and reflect some favorite looks.

After all, one's own is beautiful. From this side, you can see the other side, like the leaf covered by the sun, cool yourself, and return the world to peace. Some people and things are no longer concerned, they are just one of them, growing in their own bottles. Many memories do not need to be frozen, they have been turned into clear water and returned to spring. "Selfish" is sometimes a good word. Without affecting others, it can be used as a synonym for freedom, your own freedom, the freedom of others, and the selfish respect of others. Friction is due to being too close. You have to maintain your own independence and the beauty of the independence of others, so jade has a shell, and it must be wrapped in a layer of transparency.

One must grow up, most of this growth comes from the heart. It is tough and endless, it is a real growth; unlike the arc of the flesh, it is already sagging. First the waist, then the skin, bones, and heart. You can't stop the betrayal of the figure. Many well-made workmen and their favorite clothes are beaten into the cold. Those silks with good body temperature only touched the cold fingers in the moment of opening the cabinet. The cervical spine and lumbar spine also began to be stiff and painful, and even went on strike; white hair sprung up like bamboo shoots, endlessly, these were normal, but quietly accepted. Your body is no longer the tenderness that your parents gave you at first, fullness during development, and health at first marriage. Every day changes, and I no longer know, and I have to re-familiarize myself.

Years are the path that everyone must pass, and sometimes they are gently erased. What is lost is only the form. What has survived will become a ripple of thoughts. So the skin bag is light and not worth it. This is what the 50-year-old wants to say. Even if it has been said in the past, it is not sincere in thought.

Nails and hair used to be a beautiful extension of a woman. Every day flowers that grow out of her body are stretched and glorious by it. Now it is endless trouble, you can't stop. This kind of variation in body language makes people helpless. If they ca n’t go out, they hope to shave a thick hair and let it fall like a snow flake. Bald head wandering around every corner of the room, eating, sleeping, typing, and sealing it in its own container, it might be a kind of happiness. A person buried in loneliness will not be lonely. Loneliness is a luxury, but you have to come to the door and put on a hat in winter, not for the style, to keep warm, but to cover the white hair. Such vanity is still maintained.

Unfortunately, I have inherited the inheritance of my parents. When my son was in high school, he traveled with relatives to travel far away, and suddenly he called at night and asked me to get him back. The reason is that others say that his mother stepped on the generation and had gray hair. He called that bad talk. I replied that this is the case. Your grandfather and grandmother blew early, and I also blew early. He was a little surprised, said for a long time, that was not allowed to say that they did not have this right. At that moment, I was very moved. He didn't know yet that his mother had begun to age. Such aging will continue day by day. This is my own business and has nothing to do with his growth. At that time, he was in a period of rebellion. He was not good. His body was full of thorns. He didn't understand yet. Language was everyone's patent. It had nothing to do with reality, and it was only related to the focal length of the pupil.

I like a sentence, "People need clothing, food, shelter, or work and rest, similar to animals, that is natural life; but human beings have developed a great cultural life from natural life, which is different from natural life." So God loves us, except Natural life has another life. When one life ages, the other life grows.

Enjoying yourself is happy after all.

On the day of her birthday, she wore a white cloth, and her friend drew a crane on it. She said that she painted on her clothes for the first time and the last time. With the stamp and the title, everything is simple. This feeling is very special, like the wind on the lake, light. Crane, Jiehe, white satin, fell to the dead. Not only prolonging the years, life and death are in peace.

Yu Guosheng didn't care, but now he has passed the age that needs attention. Calm days are comfortable, hiding in the dark is very comfortable. When I was a child, my mother put two boiled eggs in her schoolbag every birthday, and she would have a bowl of longevity noodles after school. When I grow up, I don't get too old. I have received some gifts and greetings, which are the time spent by others.

The annual rings are beautiful, and those patterns are circled and engraved by yourself. It's like when I finished typing these words silently, I had passed the awn and entered midsummer. The time worm slid deeper, and the plant exploded outside the window. Green, more and more peaceful, this world looks good in every way.

Notice announcement dynamic information city and state Wenxun work research book review preface and post new book stand special column Hubei writing association
Copynight @ 湖北 电影 网 All Right Reserved
Technical Support: Hubei Daily