Recommended reason: dignified and delicate language, art shows the mother's earnest persistence and forbearance. Although sad, she is eager for cultural knowledge, longing for a better life and making unremitting efforts for it, which is the epitome of her life. Pure feelings, rich hearts and diligent pursuit make people admire!
I came back from my grandmother's house in Fujian. I was five years old. Before my sister was born, my mother treated me as a little baby and told me stories in vernacular historical records before going to bed every day.
? She was lying on her side and I was lying in her arms. She talked about Ximen Bao's rule over his power, and illustrations showed local officials crouching and trembling. Ximen Bao glared at the bad guys, and the left corner of the picture was a raging river. Because I was interested in the story, but I couldn't understand it, so I lay staring at the illustrations in the book, and those pictures were still vivid. In the long winter, the north wind is particularly energetic. It roars between heaven and earth day and night, and the doors and windows creak, as if a giant animal were gnashing its teeth to tear down the house and eat children. Listening to my mother read the vernacular historical records made me forget the "monster" outside the door. ?
My friends and I play in front of and behind my mother's office every day. Sometimes when there is no partner to play with, I just rub my elbow back and forth on my mother's desk. My whole body shook and twisted rhythmically, and my mouth gave out a low groan, commonly known as "grinding people." And my mother is either busy with work or knitting a sweater. She doesn't like telling folk stories and singing nursery rhymes to coax children like grandma, uncle and aunt. To the children, her work is extremely boring. "mom! Mom! I'm bored! No one plays with me. " My whine finally got louder, repeated over and over again, and stamped my feet angrily. My mother looked at me helplessly and said, "Then I'll teach you to write in Chinese calligraphy." As soon as she writes, I won't bother.
The whole process of writing brush characters is new to me and much more fun than knitting sweaters. Mother opened the inkstone, poured ink, drew a brush from the pen container, and became very focused and quiet. Her eyes stared unblinkingly at the paper, skillfully dipped the brush into the ink, gently rubbed it on a small ball of silk floss in the ink box, and lifted the pen to see if it was sharp. If it is not sharp, she will continue to wipe the pen in circles until all the bristles return to the team, and she will hold the pen on the paper with satisfaction; If there are bristles in the middle of the brush, rub them a few times until the prankster listens. Mother's handwriting, the thickness of strokes and the structure of the whole font are very different, so mother's handwriting is very special. I have heard many times that my mother's old colleagues praised her, and she shook her head indifferently.
? Seen from the side of the ridge, it becomes a mountain peak.
? The distance is different.
? I don't know the true face of Lushan Mountain,
? Just because I'm in this mountain.
-Title cylinder wall? Su Shi
Mother wrote these four poems vertically with a brush and began to teach me to recite them again and again in her northern Shaanxi dialect. This is the first poem she taught me to recite. Reciting poems is certainly interesting. After I recited the meeting quickly, my mother pressed the copied poems under the glass plate, and many ancient poems she copied with a brush were already pressed in the glass plate. A few days later, she pointed to the glass plate and questioned me. I pointed to the poem and read it back and forth, without missing a word.
? My mother was working in an artificial rainfall hail suppression station, only 10 meters away from home. Tall poplars are surrounded by houses with red bricks and tiles, and the windows are polished. The golden sun shone on the table through the dense leaves, full of flashing spots. The breeze in July blew my mother's light coat with white background and blue dots, and her black and supple hair was ear-short. Her round face is white and clean, and her eyes with single eyelids are particularly kind. She was 37 years old. Look at her photos at that time. They are elegant and delicate but often sad.
As long as I can remember, my mother likes to write with a brush. In the whole office, there are two uncles who write well in Chinese calligraphy, only their mothers. In that poor era, there were only two lonely Xinhua bookstores in the whole city, one farther than the other. Without exception, the bookshelves on the four walls of the bookstore and the blank space on the ceiling are covered with solemn heads of leaders as usual. These old-timers who swallow mountains and rivers are all waiting for death and looking far away. When I was a child, I couldn't read. When I followed my mother into Xinhua Bookstore, I carefully stared at the leaders of the four walls. They refused to smile at me from beginning to end. Before the 1980s, the bookstore didn't sell brush copybooks, and my mother's calligraphy materials were poor to zero, which means she didn't have a chance to practice calligraphy according to Copybook for calligraphy.
? Mother will take time to write calligraphy at work, but often only for a short time. She must use her spare time to knit sweaters, pants, socks, gloves, sweaters, pants, socks, gloves and so on. The warm clothes worn by five people in the family depend on their mothers' hard work. After work, my father is at the construction site all the year round, and all the heavy and trivial work at home belongs to my mother, which distracts my mother's time and consumes her energy. Therefore, it is conceivable that the mother's love for calligraphy can only be long-lasting, and she has written to a certain level, but she must never put aside her work and housework for her own hobbies. What a pity. My mother's handwriting will be better if the teacher is clear and has enough time. Calligraphers like today often have exhibitions, competitions and auctions to win prizes.
? Mother can not only write official script with a brush, but also be good at writing with a hard pen. No matter how cheap the ballpoint pen is, as long as there is still a drop of oil, it will be held by the mother to write beautiful words. She never wrote popular Chinese characters, but she wrote official script all her life. She is still fast, not slower than Chinese characters, soft and powerful. So far, mom is the most beautiful person in the family, only the first, not the second. There is an ordinary bamboo pen container on my mother's desk all the year round. It is said that the ink on the bucket was carved by my family, and I guess it was my father. Naturally, the bamboo pen container was brought from my hometown in the south. He carved with a knife and painted in black ink. Brush pens of different sizes are inserted in the pen holder, and a black stone inkstone is placed squarely next to the bamboo pen holder, which presents a different style with the desks of the whole department and even the whole bureau. Mother also wrote down good poems and famous sayings that could sharpen her calligraphy and put them under a glass plate.
When I was in the fifth grade of primary school, my mother came home one day, her eyes shining with confidence, and said, "I read the newspaper today, and there was an article saying that if I read 300 Tang poems, I could recite them even if I couldn't write them." Then let's recite a good Tang poem in the future. "Mother used to copy ancient poems and recite them, but the number was small,/kloc-more than 0/00. From then on, her enthusiasm for reciting ancient poems was high, and she used official script to copy ancient poems, which emerged one after another. But my mother couldn't bear to copy poems with the sponge notebook (the senior notebook at that time) issued to her by the company. Her official script handwriting was scattered on the page, in the palm-sized notebook, in the blank space of the waste newspaper ... Now that I think about it, I suddenly understand my mother's shy desire at that time. If she can learn to recite poems, she is very willing to become a poet.
? Mother's pursuit of poetry is very narrow and folk. In those years, before going out to work in the morning, she would always stop at the door for a while and raise her hand to turn over the monthly card hanging on the wall at the door. She always knows festivals, 24 solar terms or the Lunar New Year. "What's the date of the solar calendar today?" But she never forgot to add: "What's the date of the lunar calendar?" The page she turned over was never torn off like someone else's, but she used a small clip to hold the page and the cover, so that on the last day of the year, she could completely take down a calendar book and hang a new one. The old calendar she took down became her notebook, blank pages or back covers for copying poems. Mother wrote her official script so diligently, no matter the thin paper printed on the calendar at that time, it was always white, red, blue, green and yellow, and the translucent front could be seen from the back.
Yueka has become one of the treasure houses for my mother to find riddles of poems and songs. At the bottom of every page are printed daily poems and songs, as well as the knowledge points that she thinks are very clever, and the tips of rice, oil, salt, sauce and vinegar tea. In those years when I was by her side, my ears were full of poems and songs that my mother copied from books, newspapers and monthly cards, and I recited them with relish. I really have resistance to her infatuation with classical literature, because she can't speak Mandarin, she just reads poems in dialect! Her dialect is Tuoxian dialect, which belongs to northern Shaanxi dialect. In the primary school where Mandarin was prevalent at that time, my mother's dialect really made me lose face and always wanted to cover my ears. She was embarrassed to imitate the announcer on the radio and was filled with emotion. She reads poetry very fluently. I became the top student in the school poetry reading class, and I didn't want to listen to my mother recite poems in dialect when I got home, but she just smiled. In addition to the monthly card at home, there is also a desk calendar issued by my father's unit, and my mother is even more reluctant to throw it away. Desk calendars are usually paper, and there are many blank spaces for writing information. She tied the hole in one side of the desk calendar with a rope and turned it into a thick little book. She carefully copied poems and sentences in the blank with a brush.
? My mother told us many times that she heard grandma say that dolls should study hard. Grandma's name is Han. She should be 1 13 years old this year. She was wrapped in a standard three-inch golden lotus, taught herself Chinese and arithmetic, and was a devout Catholic. Because of her education, she also worked as a teacher in the church before liberation for a long time. My mother's second uncle's name is Korea Liang, and he will be 125 this year. He is the leader of the people in Tumochuan area, leading the people to build fortresses to resist grain, soldiers and bandits, and became a Chinese teacher in middle schools after liberation. He is a hero who dares to tell the truth with an iron shelf. My mother was deeply influenced by my grandmother and uncle since she was a child. She is very eager for cultural knowledge and wants to be a knowledgeable person, which is why my mother is so willing to read books and newspapers and write good calligraphy.
? One day, she talked about practicing calligraphy when she was young. "I saw that a comrade's official script in the unit was well written, so I practiced it myself." When she said this, I clearly saw a faint smile on her lips and recognized her deep admiration for her tutor. It suddenly dawned on me that her calligraphy originated from official script, which was remarkable because she was creative and did not follow the old path of her predecessors.
? The comrade who is good at calligraphy mentioned by my mother caught my imagination. Who is he? Have I seen it? Older or younger than mom? Or in the same year? What does he look like? What kind of person is he? Is he still alive? What is his fate? Mother swept away the mentor who had influenced her life with extremely vague words, never saying a word about him or his last name again, and quickly changed the subject. Mom really hides "information"! This top secret information has been hidden for many years. This makes me just daydream, let it go. I want to thank this talented person who is hiding in the office. His wonderful influence on my mother made her love the official script all her life in her own way. ?
Mother's spiritual temperament and cultural pursuit have a subtle influence on our sisters. I practiced Liu Gongquan's copybook for three years in high school, and then practiced official script, hard-pen regular script and running script. In college, the subject of role design needs to be practiced every day. Thanks to the practice of fonts when I was young, I have a good foundation and experience in learning this lesson and achieved good results in the exam. With the third generation in the family, my mother always pays attention to the words written by her grandson, and the children always praise them in time when they finish writing. When my daughter was in the third grade, she bought Song Huizong's thin gold copybook and said that she would practice her handwriting well. I called my mother and told her, "It's all your old man's legacy, and the children are very willing to write it well." Mom was very happy to hear that.
? After my mother was 70 years old, I continued to undergo major surgery. Father's dementia is getting more and more serious, and mother's mood is getting more and more painful. I read a poem she copied during this period, all of which were sad and generous, and tears filled her eyes. I guess every word she chooses is an outlet from her heart. She endured the unfair trial of fate all her life, and only by shouting and telling in her poems can she resonate.
When my father was seriously ill, he occupied a back room, so my mother had to bend over and lie on the big bed in the dimly lit partition, and continue to copy poems and recite them in bed. Mother has always wanted to have a desk, but I don't know where to move back an old desk for primary school students and put it in a narrow and dark living room as a place for her to write. The conspicuous mottled old yellow paint is out of harmony with the things at home. There are brushes and ink cartridges she used as a child on the windowsill! She won't let us touch her things. Unfortunately, my mother loved calligraphy all her life, but she never really bought herself a good pen or a decent desk. She never wrote words on rice paper, even never saw rice paper, and never hung up the words and enjoyed them ostentatiously.
Gradually, handwriting was replaced by computer and mobile phone typing, and even home letters gradually disappeared. I haven't written to my mother for a long time, just talking with WeChat video. 20 14 During the Spring Festival, I went back to my parents' home. My sister and I went to eat New Year's Eve dinner, and from time to time we turned on our mobile phones to check the recipes. "ah! ! I write and copy, good poems and common sense of life, and I want to leave it to you. You may need them in the future. Who would have thought you would use your mobile phone to check it all! It's no use copying so many notes for you! ! "Mother's voice is full of loss and great regret. She sat on the sofa, staring straight at us with wide eyes, and her hair stood on end! Her thin hands slapped her thighs hard!
? I was shocked, and so was my sister. We both turned to look at her together. At that moment, I suddenly understood that my mother had worked hard for half her life to copy official script, and every word was love, just like a "love book" written for her children! An encyclopedia! The whole world can't understand her, and so can her daughter! But she found that her daughters had no interest in reading at all, and the copied notes were useless. She feels that this deep love for us has been neglected by desolation! ! Mother's exclamation is a deep pain, and it is extremely rare! She endured all her life, but only once in her later years did she let out a cry of grief and indignation! ! !
How to comfort mom? ! How can I make my mother feel that her writing is very important? ! My sister specially bought a series of notebooks for primary school textbooks during the Republic of China, half of which were Chinese classes and the other half were blank pages. Notebook design is simple and emotional, and my mother will never buy it. My sister asked my mother to copy poems and famous sayings on blank pages every day, but my mother shirked and didn't want to write any more. My sister said affectionately, "Mom, you have to write." There are fewer and fewer people writing now. Mom's handwriting is so beautiful that it will become more and more precious! When I miss you, look at your handwriting. "My sister sent a set of exquisite Four Treasures of the Study to my mother, complete on the table. This professional and grand treatment made my mother feel at a loss, touched it, looked at it, shook her head, said she could not bear to use it, and stored it again. She began to write again. As usual, she used her familiar old inkstone and old pen and ink, wearing reading glasses, and began to write at her desk. As before, she was serious and serious, as if she were doing something important.
I took out the notebook that won the prize in the composition contest of the autonomous region when I was 13 years old. When I was a child, I was reluctant to write a word on it. Always wanted to live an ideal life and then carefully recorded it with this book. Unexpectedly, I still don't have the courage to write with that exquisite notebook after wasting my middle-aged time. I solemnly decided to let my mother copy Tang poetry and Song poetry in official script in a book that I could not bear to write. Mother agreed. Before she started this copying plan, she wore reading glasses and carefully wrapped and glued my beautiful notebook with several layers of clean old newspapers, just like she worked in a middle-aged "red house" and packed a valuable commodity tightly and sent it to a distant place!
One day, I found that my mother actually copied that poem into the photographic works that I liked to enjoy thousands of times when I was a child! In the past, frugality was the first priority, and my mother habitually saved paper, making poets as crowded as possible and writing as many articles as possible on one page. As a result, every page is crowded like a group of aunts and grandfathers who go to the vegetable market to queue up to buy special goods. I was shocked, and my mother repeatedly apologized: "I'm sorry!" " I'll pay attention to copying next time! "I really regret it now, how can I make up for the brand of life left by a whole era!
? 20 15 12 in the middle of February, my father couldn't walk, and my mother helped him and broke his waist. My sister resigned and went home to take care of her parents for a long time. Mother is unwilling to delay her sister's lifelong events and future prospects, and she is more and more worried. 20 17 When I went back for the Spring Festival, I brought back Uncle Liang Mu's memoirs from Korea. "How memorable such a precious manuscript is! I'm afraid future generations don't know that there is a hero named Han! Recently, a novel was serialized online, only mentioning my uncle, without writing in detail. This is because the information is not made public. " This convinced my mother to start copying.
In the warm afternoon light, my mother sat on the bed and copied on the small kang table. She wears huge reading glasses and is very thin. My mother was writing quietly, and I was relieved.
? Mother passed away on April 25th, 20 19. After my parents' house was demolished, I went to the last place to clean up, bid farewell to the home where I grew up, and saw the vernacular history books I read when I was a child. The cover of the book is faded, the corners are slightly curled, the spine of the book is broken, and the patch stuck on the grid paper is still there, which is full of the smell of years. I was surprised to find that the book 40 years ago was dull, colorless, dusty and so old, but my mother's brush handwriting was still clearly written on the book and did not fade at all. I didn't understand it when I was a child, but now I do. Mother's ink, there are comments on events, there are sighs on the tragedy of the characters, but they are very short, only a few numbers.
? I was instantly stunned by the waves in my mother's heart! What a woman my former mother was! ? She is under great political pressure and never dares to express her ideas boldly. She only occasionally leaves a little sadness and anger in the margin of the page. She wants peace and happiness all her life, but she suffers all her life!
? I didn't understand my mother until I was middle-aged. However, everything is too late!
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