The way back to grandma’s house

Grandma’s home is located in an extremely remote rural area, seven or eight kilometers away from the nearest market and more than fifty kilometers away from our home. Therefore, in my childhood memories, a trip to my grandma’s house was no less than a long trip, requiring a transfer and walking two to three kilometers of country roads, which was not an easy task.

Grandma is an amiable old lady with small feet. She only has two children, her mother and her uncle. But my grandma was extremely open-minded. At that time, my mother was the only female student in this small village who studied and went to university, leaving the countryside. After graduation, my mother was assigned to teach in a county school, and then we got married, and then we had my sisters and me. She is far away from my grandma's house, but every month or holiday, my parents always take us to grandma's house to visit relatives.

Thirty years ago, my parents’ combined salary was only seventy or eighty yuan, and my mother was an extremely filial daughter. Every time she went to visit her grandma, she would try her best to buy some gifts for her, but it was not possible at the time. Buses and cars. When I went home, it was mostly a bumpy ride on a bicycle. It takes more than three hours to travel from our home to my grandma’s house. In my memory, especially in winter, I sit on the small seat tied to the front beam of the bicycle, put on a thick cotton-padded jacket, a hat, and tie my mother’s A big scarf and a thick mask covered the whole person. My sister was a little more free in the back seat, but I was almost motionless in the front because I once had my foot pinched by a bicycle chain. I was so bored that I just stared at the road under the wheels. The not-so-wide dirt road looked like a yellow flowing river over time. That was the only fun of riding a bicycle home. After sitting down for several hours and the cold weather, my legs and feet were so numb after getting off the car that I could hardly walk. When we arrived at the village, we saw narrow and winding alleys, low mud houses, withered grass and wheat straw scattered on both sides of the road. In front of the village brigade department, there were many people squatting or sitting on the ground with their hands sleeved and basking in the sun. We were very excited about our arrival and The level of welcome is really no less than welcoming a "leader" inspection. They stood up one after another and gathered around me, holding me with their big chapped hands to ask me for help. Their big, earthy hands would even put them on the top of my head to touch them. Their rough hands would even catch my hair, causing my scalp to ache. . I would shrink my neck and respond with a sweet smile on my face. At that time, my grandma who heard the news would rush out of the house to welcome me, hold my hand and go home, and then hug me. We made a big fire with sesame straws, corn cobs or other firewood to keep us warm. I no longer remember how warm the firewood was at that time. I only remember that this kind of firewood heating is not something that everyone can enjoy. It is only for distinguished guests. courtesy. Engraved deep in my memory are the red flames, the warm family affection and the thick smell of firewood smoke that filled the room that made me cough...

Later, the dirt road turned into an asphalt road. , and there are also buses and buses, which makes it much more convenient for us to go back to grandma's house. But after we got off the car, we still had to walk on three or four kilometers of dirt road. My uncle would borrow a donkey cart to pick us up when he had time. It's fine on a sunny day, but every time it rains or snows, especially when passing through villages along the way, the road is very difficult to walk. Maybe it's because there are too many people and cars in the village and the road surface is damaged, or maybe it's not of good quality. Every time you get closer to the village, it becomes more and more uneven. . A trip to grandma's house takes nearly two hours. Sometimes the bus is bustling with people, and the air is so turbid and shaking that people are confused. That's not all. The worst time I remember is that on the way back in the winter, when the car passed by the village called Zhongshang, the car was bumping up and down like a sedan, and suddenly it was bumping up again. It may have been scratched by a raised stone on the road when it fell. Many of us were trapped in a strange village on that cold winter evening...

Now, it is very convenient to go to grandma's house. The family car has entered my home, and the expressway has spanned half of Huaxian County. The road to my grandma's house is spacious and smooth, and the rural roads passing through the village are all cement roads. It is no longer as bumpy and difficult as before, and the speeding cars are driving on the road. The wide road is so comfortable and comfortable. Look at the flowers blooming in the green belts on both sides of the road, look at the endless fields in the distance, look at the busy people, look at the trees and modern villages in the distance, all around. Fifty minutes passed by in a flash, and before I knew it, I arrived at my grandma's house. The remote and remote villages no longer seem remote. Almost all the mud houses have been transformed into two-story buildings at some point, and there are no idle people in the village. It’s true: only the mirror lake in front of the door, the spring breeze does not change the waves of the past.

Now my uncle’s house has become a two-and-a-half-story building. The windows are bright and clean, instead of the firewood all over the yard. The cabinet air conditioner in the living room has replaced the firewood heating in childhood memories. Not to mention, it really reminds me of that. The taste of time. I heard from my uncle that now that the busy farming season is over, most of the young and middle-aged people in the village go out to work to earn money, and there are only the elderly and children left behind in the village. It's time to have lunch, and I don't see my aunt going to the kitchen to cook. I remember when I was a child, my grandma and aunt were busy in the kitchen all morning. They were always busy until it was almost time to eat, and my grandma came out to relieve herself in the smoky kitchen. I took off my apron and shook off the ash that fell on my body... Perhaps because he looked at me in shock, my uncle smiled and said, "You must be hungry. I keep looking at the kitchen. Look, there is no smell of cigarette smoke in the kitchen now that you are afraid of." Hey, induction cookers, liquefied gas, and electric woks have also entered our kitchen. Let’s take a look at the big ribs that we just stewed for you yesterday. You can try it first.

However, instead of cooking for lunch today, we will go to a small restaurant in the village and try the country flavor there..."