Appreciation of "Childhood"

My father died of cholera. Young I snuggled up to my grandmother and watched her cry with fear and anxiety.

It never rains but it pours. The child just born by the heartbroken mother also died. There seems to be nothing left to miss. After handling everything, I followed my grandmother and mother by boat to Nizhny's grandfather's house.

Grandmother is a kind and kind person. She speaks kindly, happily and fluently. I have been friends with her since the first day I met her. On the boat, she told me stories. Her voice was very low and mysterious. She leaned down close to my face and stared at my eyes with wide eyes, as if to instill a kind of inspiring power into my heart. Every time I listen to her, I always ask, "Tell me another one!" " All right, Alyosha. She always readily agreed.

grandpa's house has arrived. I don't like adults or children in this family. I feel like a stranger among them. What I don't like in particular is my grandfather, and "I" immediately smelled hostility in him.

Grandfather's home is filled with the fiery fog of hatred between people. Adults are poisoned by hatred, and even children enthusiastically take part in it. Grandfather opened a dyehouse, and two uncles also worked in the dyehouse and hired some long-term workers. The arrival of the mother made the two uncles worry that she would share a fortune that belonged to them, so they clamored for separation.

I think grandpa has a bad temper; No matter who he talks to, he always laughs at people, bullies them, puts on a challenging attitude and tries his best to make them angry. A few days after I came, my grandfather forced me to learn to pray. Soon, I was whipped by my grandfather.

The adults subtly changed the color of the cloth, which made me feel funny. When I just put the edge of a tablecloth into the dyeing bucket, Zgang, the long-term worker at home, flew over and stopped me. Even my grandmother exclaimed and even began to cry. I know I'm in trouble.

That evening, my grandfather pushed aside my grandmother's block and carried me to Changdeng. I struggled in his hand, pulling his beard and biting his fingers. This made him even more furious, only to hear him shouting rudely: "Tie it up! Shoot him! ..... "

I lost consciousness, and then I got sick and lay in bed for a few days. The days when I was ill were important days in my life. In these days, I have probably grown very fast and have a particularly different feeling. From then on, I watched people with anxiety, as if the skin on my heart had been torn off, so my heart became unbearable sensitive to all humiliation and pain, whether it was my own or others'.

tzigane came to see me, and his arm was covered with stripes, which he left to stop his grandfather's tree note. He constantly comforted me and told me how to relieve the pain when I was beaten again.

the young man tsugaoka has a good skill in dyeing cloth. Both uncles are going to pull Zgang when they visit in the future. They are also afraid that he won't follow, and they are worried that their grandfather will open a third dyehouse with Zgang. Grandfather saw their tricks and deliberately teased them that he wanted to buy an exemption certificate for Kunoka, which would cost a lot of money, but he needed Kunoka most. This can't help but make the two uncles suppress their anger. Grandfather didn't expect what his joke meant to tzigang.

On the anniversary of Yakov's aunt's death, my uncles asked Zgang to carry a heavy cross to the grave.

when I was talking happily with Gregory, an old craftsman at home, I suddenly heard a noise outside. It turned out that my uncles came back, and Zokan was lying on the ground, bleeding a lot. Uncle Yakov said, "He fell down and was pinned down-hit his back." "You killed him," Gregory said in a muffled voice. "That's right-how about ..." At this moment, my grandfather came, and he screamed loudly: "A group of jackals! I know that he is a thorn in your side ... Alas! "

..... the young man tsugaoka was buried silently and forgotten.

Grandmother often prays to God and tells God about housework from beginning to end. I often beg her to tell the story of God. As soon as she talks about God, heaven and angels, she seems kind. The face has also become young, and the moist eyes reveal a particularly warm light.

One day, while she was kneeling in prayer, her grandfather suddenly came in and shouted hoarsely, "Fire!" "What did you say!" Grandma let out a cry, jumped up and ran to the hall.

"Take off the icon! Dress the children! " Grandmother commanded sternly and firmly, while grandfather just sobbed in a low voice. I looked at the fire and was frightened. I saw my grandmother with an empty pocket on her head and a horse quilt wrapped around her. She rushed to the burning house and shouted, "Sulfate, stupid eggs! Sulfate is going to explode ... "In the midst of people's consternation, she emerged smoking all over, holding a bucket of sulfate.

She runs around the yard, and whenever something happens, everyone listens to her, and nothing escapes her.

the fire was put out. I was just about to fall asleep when the room was as busy as a fire, and my aunt Natalya was going to have a baby. I climbed down from the kang and just rubbed against my uncle. He suddenly grabbed my foot and pulled it hard, and I fell to the floor. "Bastard", I can't help calling him names. He jumped up, picked me up and growled, "I'll kill you!" "

I woke up to know that my aunt Natalia had died in childbirth. I only feel that there is something swelling in my head and heart; What I see in this room seems to be a truck convoy on the street in winter, slowly passing me and crushing everything ...

In spring, my uncles separated: Yakefu stayed in the city, Mikhail moved to the other side of the river, and my grandfather bought a big house. The whole house is full of tenants, and my grandfather only keeps a large room upstairs for himself to live and receive guests. My grandmother and I live on the top floor.

My grandfather is kind to me sometimes, although he beats me less and less when he is in a good mood. He taught me to read and even told me stories. But what he said was mostly his past history, which was different from what his grandmother said.

but our peace was soon broken. One night, Uncle Yakov came and said that Uncle Mikhail was drunk and that Uncle Mikhail claimed to "pull out his father's beard and kill him!" Grandfather's face twisted horribly and screamed, "I know you got him drunk and taught him!" You want to get all your possessions, don't you? "

uncle Mikhail came drunk. He went into a pub beside the street. Later, it was his grandmother and uncle Yakov who dragged him away from the pub.

Uncle Mikhail often comes at night, and even takes a few helpers, goes crazy by drinking, uproots fruit trees, and even destroys the bathroom. Grandfather is miserable and his face is black.

finally, the contradiction has intensified. Once, my uncle came with a thick stick. He knocked at the door on the steps, waiting for him behind the door were his grandfather with a big root and two tenants with long pointed sticks. Grandmother begged, but she just said to the tenant, "Hit the breast and legs, not the head …".

Grandmother dived into a small window near the door and told my uncle to run. But my uncle's red eyes shone on her arm like a stick, and my grandmother fell down. "Oh, what happened to the old woman?" Grandfather gave a terrible cry.

The door suddenly opened, and my uncle jumped into the dark doorway, but immediately he was thrown out of the steps like a shovel.

grandma groaned. Grandfather looked at the tied-up son, sighed and went to his grandmother's bed. "They're going to torture us to death, old woman!" "You give them all the property ..." I can hear that they don't want to give the property to my mother to my uncles.

They talked for a long time. Grandmother's voice was low and pitiful, but Grandfather made a scene and became angry.

I understood very early: my grandfather has one god, while my grandmother has another god.

Almost every morning, grandma gets new words of praise and prays warmly, deeply and devoutly. Her prayers have always been hymns, sincere and frank praise.

Her God is with her all day, even mentioning God to animals. I understand that all living things-people, things, birds, bees and grass-obey her God easily and meekly. God is the same charity and kindness to everything on earth.

once, the hostess of the pub scolded her grandmother and even threw carrots at her. I took revenge by locking the hostess in the cellar. My grandmother taught me a few words that I will never forget, "Dear child, you should remember: don't mind the affairs of adults!" Adults are bad at learning; God is testing them. You haven't been tested yet. You should live according to your children's ideas. Wait for God to open your mind, show you what to do and lead you the way you should go. Do you understand? As for who made what mistake-it's none of your business. This allows God to judge and punish. "

Grandfather's prayers are often full of pain and helplessness. "Put out the flame of my pain, I am poor and bad!" I only committed crimes against you alone-please turn away from my sins. When he told me about God's infinite power, he always emphasized the cruelty of this power first. He said that if people commit crimes, they will drown, if they commit crimes again, they will burn to death, and their cities will be destroyed. He said that God punishes people with hunger and plague, and he will always rule the world with his sword and deal with sinners with his whip.

Grandmother's God is a lovely friend of all living things. My grandfather's God made me afraid and hostile: he didn't love anyone and looked at everything with stern eyes. He first looked for and saw the bad, evil and guilty side of people.

My family doesn't want me to play in the street, because the children in the street always bully me. What makes me sad is that the old worker Gregory is completely blind and begging in the street. Grandfather has long since stopped hiring people.

Grandfather sold the house to the owner of the pub and bought another house. There are people living around, but what attracts me most is a tenant named "Good Things".

His room is almost full of boxes and books. There are bottles filled with liquids of various colors, pieces of steel and strips of lead everywhere. From morning till night, he was covered with unknown pigments, his hair was unkempt, and he was all thumbs, always melting lead and welding small copper things there. The magic this man played made me curious.

People in the whole house don't like this good thing and think he is a pharmacist, a wizard and a dangerous person. But I am increasingly curious about him. So, one day, I got up the courage to open his door.

since then, I have often been with him. Ordinary things in the yard will become particularly meaningful after a word or two from him. A cat came running in the yard, stopped in front of a bright puddle, watched its own shadow, and raised its paw as if to hit it.-Good things said softly, "The cat is proud and suspicious ..." The golden rooster flew to the fence, stopped, patted its wings, and almost fell down. It was angered, craned its neck and growled angrily. "This general has a big shelf, but he is not very clever ..." A child always bullies me, but I can't beat him. After listening to my experience, good things said, "This is a small matter; This kind of strength is not strength, but the real strength lies in the speed of action; The sooner the stronger-do you understand? " His words really worked, and I really beat the child. How amazing it is to say good things!

I soon had a strong feeling for good things, and he became an indispensable person for me in both painful and humiliating days and happy moments.

I went to the tenant, and my grandfather gradually found out. Every time I go, he gives me a good beating. Later, the good things were finally kicked out by my grandfather.

my friendship with the first person among countless outstanding people ended like this.

When I was young, I imagined myself as a beehive. All kinds of ordinary rough people, like bees, sent honey, the knowledge and thoughts of life, into the beehive. They tried their best to enrich my mind generously. This kind of honey is often dirty and bitter, but as long as it is knowledge, it is honey.

After the good things left, Uncle Peter and I were quite close. He likes to talk. It seems that people are kind and happy, but his eyes are often bloodshot and cloudy, and sometimes they are stagnant like dead people.

On our street, an old man moved in. He has a very strange habit: on every rest day, he sits at the window and shoots dogs, cats, chickens and crows with a shotgun, and also shoots pedestrians he doesn't like.

On one occasion, the shooter scored several grape-shot bullets in his grandfather's leg. Grandfather is angry. He handed a complaint to the judge and called the victims and witnesses in the street, but the old man suddenly disappeared.

Every time he hears a gunshot in the street, Uncle Peter runs into the street. Sometimes he wandered around for a long time without results. About the hunter didn't admit that he was a wild bird worth shooting. After a while, he was finally shot. He came up to us and said with satisfaction, "I hit my chin!" " I was a little scared, so I asked, "Will the master kill someone?" "Why not? Yes. They also killed each other. "

He is very affectionate to me. It's nicer to talk to me than to talk to adults. When he invited everyone to eat jam, the jam on my bread was very thick. He also told me many stories, but they were strangely similar: every story contained things that tortured, wronged and oppressed people.

after a while, I got to know three more children in Colonel Ovshnikov's hospital. We are friendly and have a good time. But Uncle Peter thinks they are young masters and poisonous snakes. This makes me feel annoying. Those three children were beaten at home, and they didn't do anything wrong to me.

Later, I found that Uncle Peter was getting more and more depressed and stupid. No longer invite people to eat jam, his face is dry, wrinkles are deeper, and he walks like a patient.

One day, the police came to look for Uncle Peter, but he had disappeared. A few days later, Uncle Peter committed suicide in my backyard.

According to my grandmother's guests, Uncle Peter's real name is unknown. He is related to a case. He and his accomplices robbed the church a long time ago.

I heard it, as if I felt that all people had become short, fat and terrible ...

One Saturday morning, my mother came to my grandfather's house in a carriage. My mother wore a wide, warm and soft red dress, and a row of big black buttons were nailed obliquely from the shoulder to the lower part. I felt that my mother was beautiful and young, better than anyone else.

My mother's arrival changed my life like a wild horse. My mother began to teach me "secular" characters and made me learn to recite poems. From then on, we were both worried about each other. I often mispronounce the words in the lines. I know how to pronounce them in my heart, but I can't go out of shape when I export them. Sometimes I mispronounce it on purpose. In fact, I like to arrange some meaningless lines, or put them in another way. This may be the desire to create when I was a child, but it always makes my mother angry. In the hammock, when I tell my grandmother, she sometimes laughs, but usually always blames me.

I feel that life is hard, not only because my mother has taught me more and more homework, but also more and more difficult to understand. More importantly, my mother is getting more and more sad, often sitting silently by the window of the garden for a long time, and the whole person has become slovenly and more and more angry.

I also saw that my grandfather was preparing something that frightened my grandmother and mother.