The old house in my hometown-prose

When I was a child, I clearly remember that my old house was built in the last century. Although it has been rebuilt several times, it still retains its original appearance. The high earth wall is filled with densely supported wooden columns, and another earth building is built with the support of surrounding columns. In my memory, the old house was rebuilt twice. Before the renovation, the roof of the old house was repaired with grass. It's too old. My grandmother urged my father to replace the roof with bright red tiles. At that time, my family also belonged to the poor class, but after all, the old house was handed down by my ancestors. Compared with the overall township buildings at that time, it was the most magnificent in that era. Overcome difficulties, or keep it.

The old house can also be regarded as a rural scenic spot of Luji. At that time, the door was a long street, and every time I met a party, the people coming and going at the door were jostled. Walking vendors kept selling their stalls, and children were running around in the streets. Occasionally, people in the past look up at the roof of the old earth building and mutter "Yes, this family is rich"!

I heard from my grandfather that he bought the old house from the landlord surnamed Yin with two buckets of corn. At that time, the old house was beautiful and the business was said to be in Nanjing and Shanghai. It was only later that Tulou became a fox spirit, and the rich man was afraid and transferred it to my grandfather. So the tulou became scary, and I never dared to go up alone again. I just stood downstairs and stared, guessing. White clouds float across the sky, like an elegant fox spirit. The sun ended in the dark, and the tulou seemed to be beating drums, thinking about the fox's long tail and narrow mouth, and ran away in fear.

In the old countryside, bricks are rarely used as the foundation for building houses, but my old house has a six-story brick foundation and is blue bricks. This wall is made of wheat straw and mud, and then made of wooden posts and tenons. The roof was covered with grass and reed stalks, and wheat straw was repaired to prevent the rain from leaking. During the Japanese invasion of China, those Japanese who did whatever they wanted planted the sun flag on the roof of the old house, and the pace of Japanese entering the village began to bark and cry in the middle of the night, which made this century-old house cry out for justice. In that dark age, the old house showed too much helplessness and helplessness.

Twenty years ago, my grandfather left the old house because of illness. When he left, he clenched my father's hand, pointed to the old house and looked back at the tulou wearily. On that day, our family's crying made the old house much older, and the jujube trees planted by Grandpa in the yard of the old house also waved goodbye sadly. The vigorous trunk, swaying sound, just like grandpa taught me, the old house is still a loyal audience. Since then, every time I go back to my hometown and see this little jujube tree, I seem to see my grandfather.

My father took over the old house and planned to tear down and build several new houses, but my grandmother firmly disagreed. "This old house has lived for generations and carried too much wind, rain, blood and tears in our family. Although dilapidated, it can also shelter from the wind and rain, and the roof has all been replaced with red tiles! " So I followed my grandmother's wishes, repaired it and painted it with lime water, which was very neat; Under the care of my father, the earth building became in good order, and my father improved it into his cutting studio. The room is full of his cut-out works, and the old table left by grandpa has become a stage for dad to fly, dance and fly. In his spare time, my father sat by the window, holding his favorite paper-cut book and killing time comfortably. ......

Curiosity always conquers fear. One day, I secretly climbed the earth building, and the pungent book was refreshing. A few idle cabinets turned out a lot of thread-bound books "Dream of Red Mansions" ... I tore several books naughty and folded them into cards, and my father finally found out that I had been beaten all over. In recent years, my father will come to live in the city for a period of time with my permission. Every time he comes, he will look back at the old house and leave reluctantly. In fact, I can see that my father is unwilling to leave the old house. Just after the Spring Festival, the weather turned a little warmer, and my father clamored to go back to his hometown. At his strict request, I had to send my father back to the old house before the wheat harvest, continue to live a dependent life with the old house, and bring me and my family back to the old house. The old house is also waiting quietly in the vicissitudes of time.

I went back to my hometown to see my father a few days ago and walked into the old house. My old father collected a spring scene around the old house. A vegetable garden was expanded at the door, and the yard was full of flowers and plants, showing a vibrant green. The jujube trees planted by grandpa in the yard have also grown green leaves, but they lack the vigor and vitality of the past and are even more vicissitudes. Do you still remember me