I used to think that I wouldn't set foot on that land easily for very special reasons except in my dreams. Some memories, whether beautiful or painful, can be turned into an album and hidden in a corner of my heart. When I think about it, I can take it out, dust it off and read it carefully. Every photo in it retains the most original appearance in my memory. Those people, those things, those times I can't go back, don't decorate it, don't explain it, don't ask about its past, don't explore its present situation, and don't entangle its future. It's an album. Every photo is fixed in my memory, and there is a label I want to give it.
Unexpectedly, there is a very special reason for me to go back and have a look now. My mother has Alzheimer's disease, and her condition is developing rapidly. The eraser in her brain is accelerating to erase all her memories.
My mother was born in an ordinary worker's family in Qingdao, Shandong Province. When I was young, I caught up with the educated youth's movement to the countryside during the Cultural Revolution. In rural areas, every family must have a child to jump the queue. My mother, the second of five children, volunteered to leave Qingdao and resolutely went to Rushan countryside to receive re-education from poor and middle peasants. When I was a child, I often listened to my mother talk about the hardships and interesting things in the countryside in recent years. Although it was a difficult time for the country, the poor life in a small mountain village could not be compared with that in a big city. My mother has suffered a lot in the past few years in the countryside, but she has also developed a determined and courageous character and a hard-working quality. She has established a good reputation among local villagers and rural educated youth and made many lifelong good friends. In the last few years of the Cultural Revolution, educated youth returned to Qingdao under the pretext of contacts. However, for various reasons, it was not until the last few years of the movement that their mother was assigned to work in a very remote military factory in the suburbs of Zibo.
Because she was born in a turbulent era, her mother didn't go to school for a few years and had little knowledge, but she had a simple philosophy. She is diligent and willing to take responsibility, studies hard, strives for perfection, never lets her colleagues say a word, and is an advanced worker in the team every year. I am warm and generous in my life, treat people kindly, spare no effort to help my relatives and friends, and have a well-known charity.
It turns out that in the dormitory area of the factory, my home is the busiest, and friends and neighbors always come to visit us. My parents are short and considerate, and my mother is not idle with the guests, making tea and boiling water, and taking out the best fruit snacks at home for the guests to enjoy. Even if the guest said that he was full, he stood up again and again, humbled himself, and sat down with satisfaction until the guest symbolically took a bite of the peeled apple forced into his hand.
From time to time, there will always be three or five friends gathered at home. My mother is as busy as a bee in the kitchen. She tries to cook some good dishes. She always sits down at the end after three rounds of drinking, and does not forget to get up frequently and ask the guests to raise their glasses. To this day, she tells her relatives and friends about her mother, and she will say with a smile that your mother is too enthusiastic to go to your house and always let her eat. She especially likes to go to your house to feel her.
My father is a train driver and spends most of his time outside every week. His time at home is extremely limited, and he has to go up and down inside and out, and most of the housework needs his mother to do. My mother is a restless person. There are two troublemakers at home, but they always clean the windows. She is smart and studious, knitted a good sweater and taught herself to have a haircut and a perm. She dresses neatly at home every day, and plans to knit a sweater for the Zhang family, give a perm to the Li family's sister-in-law and give the Wang family a haircut. Because of her famous kindness and enthusiasm, neighbors and colleagues will always find her if they need help at home. On holidays, jiaozi wrapped jiaozi and smoked fish in a crispy pot. There will be one on the table in the neighborhood, and the whole hutong can smell the fragrance of her carefully cooked food. As long as I am lucky enough to know her, I will be friends who care about each other the most in my life. Even if they move out of the factory dormitory after decades of retirement, friends will still call to greet them every once in a while, and they will come all the way to visit them on holidays to experience Joe's enthusiasm, which is rare in modern society.
What bothers her more than doing housework is our study and growth. I'm fine. I am introverted and clever since I was a child, and I basically don't have to worry about my studies. My younger brother is a natural "war maniac", lively and active. Since kindergarten, parents of children have always brought crying children to complain. Mother never excuses her mistakes. What is right is right, and what is wrong is wrong. She began to beat and scold in front of other parents and asked us to apologize. Finally, most other parents took their mother to persuade her not to be angry and not to hit the child.
My brother and I are four years apart, so we should get along well. But as long as I can remember, we have been involved in the lawsuit. The two brothers slept in the same bed and went to war as soon as they woke up in the morning, until they were scolded by their parents for turning off the lights and sleeping. No matter what they eat or play, they will separate you from me, and no one will let them, because I am the boss, and most of them will be punished in the end. For this reason, I was quite jealous for a while. "A dutiful son is born under a stick" has always been despised by most education experts. But when my brother and I grew up, we didn't think there was anything wrong with our parents' simple and rude education methods. If it weren't for the strict discipline of our parents, in the era when the children were basically "stocked", our father was away most of the time, and we would probably take many detours. In the process of growing up, a small tree must have a diligent gardener to trim those crooked branches in time in order to thrive and eventually grow into a pillar with a tall and straight posture. Although the process is painful, the effect is also remarkable. This is the trouble of growing up.
My mother was an upright, kind, enthusiastic, generous, hardworking, brave and competitive woman in the first half of her life. Her outlook on life was simple, and she was very measured and decent in treating people.
Who would have expected that it was such a sensible good man who suffered from such a confused disease that devastated his mind in his later years? Her mother has been in poor health because she worked too hard when she was young. Decades of diabetes and high blood pressure tormented her. Although a cerebral infarction did not leave sequelae, it also laid the groundwork for her future illness. Complications of diabetes caused her binocular vision to drop sharply. After a glaucoma operation, there was almost only light in her right eye. Even so, she never wants to be looked down upon and resolutely refuses our help when she goes out. In a car accident, she broke her calf and got a plaster cast. She also tried to support herself with a bench and cook for us after she was busy in the kitchen. Although the disease is cruel, my mother has never bowed to her fate, and has been living positively and optimistically, never willing to drag us down.
Until more than a year ago, she suffered from Alzheimer's disease. During the epidemic, her condition developed rapidly, and she gradually became delirious, talking and acting like a child. Whether we like it or not, the fact is that this time she has been unable to resist the attack of the disease. She has become very forgetful, her thinking logic is confused and her speech is upside down. She often forgets where she is and who she is facing. She was completely unable to take care of herself and became sensitive and irritable. She often beats and scolds her father and hysterically makes a mess at home. I have always been reluctant to define my mother's illness with a common name, and I dare not mention those words that are extremely insulting to her in front of my mother, because even though she is ill, she still maintains a strong and sensitive personality. Even if we smile to correct her abnormal behavior, she will think it is a mockery and insult to her and then vent it on her father.
She began to feel lonely all the time and hoped that we would stay with her all the time. Every time I go to my mother's house, she will accurately distinguish my footsteps from the noise in the corridor, and immediately take out my slippers and set them up, waiting to open the door to meet me. Even if I go home every day, she will hold my hand and say with tears that she hasn't seen me for several days and misses me. Sometimes I can't go home because I am busy with work. When I call home, she will immediately grab the phone and say that she will be happy to hear my voice. She expects us to go home for dinner every day, but my father is not good at cooking. Every time he goes home, he can't bear to write down the online recipes, then fry some home-cooked dishes that are not very delicious than the recipes, and then rub hands and tell us with a smile that the dishes are not fried well, so just make do. We will boast that the stir-fried dishes are delicious and try to eat them all. Mother's blood sugar has not been well controlled, but since she got sick, she has become particularly fond of snacks. Every time I go home, I will go to the supermarket to buy some sugar-free or low-sugar snacks for her. Then dad will nag about not buying her snacks. She always steals food, and her blood sugar will never drop. But what can I do? As a doctor, don't I understand such a simple truth? I just want to fulfill her wish and make her as happy as possible. Diabetes and hypertension are not the main contradiction now.
I mentioned several times that I want to find a nanny or a part-time worker to help with housework and chat with my mother, but my parents are firmly opposed. They are not used to having strangers at home, and they don't want outsiders to watch "jokes". I once wanted to buy a puppy on a whim to relieve my mother's loneliness, but it was also resolutely opposed. The reason is that my mother takes care of the dog too hard and has no energy to take care of it.
Alzheimer's disease is a worldwide medical problem. There is almost no specific therapy, not to mention reversing the disease or even delaying its development. From a medical point of view, there is almost no way to reduce the pain of patients and their families. There is a touching video circulating on the Internet. A pregnant woman and an old man are chatting in the seat of a bus stop. The old man asked many questions about the pregnant woman's family and the dying child, comforting the pregnant woman that everything would be all right. When the bus pulled into the station, the pregnant woman stood up with tears and said to the old man, "Dad, the bus is coming, let's go home ... I'm afraid that one day, my mother won't know me or all her relatives."
But at least now, she knows me, knows most of her relatives, and can even distinguish my footsteps. I don't know if I should be grateful for this. Now every time she quarrels with her father at home, she will shout "Go home", pack everything she can get around her and rush out in disheveled clothes. Ask her where her "home" is, and she will mention two places, one is Qingdao, where she was born and raised, and the other is the special place mentioned at the beginning of my article-481factory-where she once lived and worked for half her life. At first, we will explain to her attentively that this is her home, a place where she has lived for more than 20 years, and she seems to be acceptable, but the destination of quarreling with her father later is still those two places. Therefore, I think I will take her "home" to have a look during the Spring Festival holiday, hoping to help her untie her heart.
The night before "going home", I lost sleep. After all, it is a land that I haven't set foot on for more than 20 years. The land I used to know, the people I used to know, I don't know what it has become.
Before and after the Spring Festival holiday, the sun was shining and the temperature was high, but it happened that it rained lightly on the day we went home, and the temperature plummeted, which made this trip home inexplicably sad.
Originally, I always felt that the 48 1 factory was far from Zhangdian by bike, and now it's only a 20-minute drive, which is still my father who has been driving in Daiyue for more than 20 years. The scenery along the way is familiar and unfamiliar. Compared with the rapid development of the city, the overall change here is not great, but with the decline of traditional enterprises along the way, it is also increasingly desolate.
The gate of the factory should be the place that has changed the most, and you can still vaguely see the original appearance. My mother has struggled in this factory for decades.
The doorman was very wary of these strange faces and flatly refused our unreasonable request to look around the factory. Even if he takes pictures, he won't. It is understandable for military enterprises.
It used to be a club and library, and it was also the only entertainment center in the factory. We often climb over the wall to go to the club to watch movies, or go to the chess room to play poker and chess, and the Lantern Festival Lantern Festival is also here. The neighbor of the club used to be our kindergarten. I vaguely remember the first day my mother sent me to kindergarten. I cried and punched the turtle and charged outside the kindergarten.
The yellow hut next to the railway is a small switch station. My father used to be a train driver. When he is resting at home, he often needs to call there to ask about the plan. After decades, the switch station on the other side of the railway is still there, but it is overgrown with weeds, and the masonry that was not cleaned in time after demolition also makes it look even more desolate.
This path under the railway bridge used to be the only way for my mother to go to work. This narrow and rugged path has accompanied her for decades. Now I have revisited my hometown, and the local accent has not changed.
This river once carried a lot of happiness in our childhood. Every summer, we fish, touch shrimps and catch crabs in the river. At that time, we were carefree, and happiness at that time was very simple. Until now, we often dream of those carefree days.
When we were young, we were very naughty. I have many scars on my head and face. Almost every year, he is sent to the hospital for debridement and suture because of a broken head. Once, I was pushed down from this high platform by my classmates. My head was bleeding profusely. Because of these things, my mother is worried.
It used to be a lively market, consisting of a rural credit cooperative, a state-run retail department, a shopping center, a state-run restaurant, several individual grocery stores and a crowded alley with many vegetable vendors. The daily life supply problem of employees' families can basically be solved here. It seems that all the buildings have been demolished for a long time, but there is obviously no plan to rebuild them in the near future, so it is very deserted.
There are several small bridges on the river. They are still the same as they were decades ago. The public toilets in the background have been standing for decades, and the toilets are as dirty as ever.
Most people familiar with the factory went to the city to buy a house, but during the Spring Festival, they met several old people who came back to visit relatives and friends. They can always recognize their mother from a distance and know everything about our family background, but we can only greet each other with a smile, wait for each other to sign up, and then add their surnames to show respect, but including their mother, we have long forgotten the identity of the new couple.
The dormitory area has been demolished beyond recognition everywhere, but there is no sign of reconstruction. Broken walls in light rain and dead trees and weeds are even more desolate. It is hard to imagine that this used to be a big factory with thousands of employees.
In the past, the labor service company hung the torch industry and trade sign, and there used to be a grain store next to it. In the era of planned economy with ticket supply, it seems that just yesterday, there was a pigsty behind the grain store, and we used to throw stones into it with our noses held, just to hear the harsh cries of the beaten pigs.
The once most prosperous salesroom in the dormitory area is now occupied by the supermarket opened by classmates. In my mind, I still remember the creaking sound of money sliding across the wires of the sales department with iron clips.
The "business circle" composed of several small supermarkets has finally gathered some popularity and finally brought some vitality to this decades-old street.
This bridgehead supermarket has actually become one of the few "landmark buildings" in Baidu Map Factory. There is a simple reason. This "canteen" seems to be older than me, and has been firmly occupying the corner of the "bridge" since I can remember.
As a lead-acid battery factory, due to the serious pollution in the early years, a large number of brick red traces were deposited on the stone wall of the river bank and the silt in the middle of the river. The river has been flowing quietly for decades and has always maintained its memory.
There is almost no change in the dormitory area. Most of the small buildings with three or four floors and neatly arranged bungalows are still there.
Even this magical "dangerous house" hanging above the river is still there.
This row of bungalows just came to an abrupt end in the position of "my home" that year. The last row of bungalows has been demolished, and the building behind it is marked with the year of construction in 2003.
The former primary school has become an activity center for the elderly.
The bungalow opposite the "primary school" has also been demolished. It used to be a family-style game hall full of infinite joy and a canteen selling all kinds of snacks and stationery.
The original position of junior high school has become a "primary school", with a mini playground and a newly repainted teaching building.
If I remember correctly, this should be the most luxurious building of the year-the military representative building.
The location of this food store should be the staff canteen and boiler room.
This iron bridge is also of special significance to me. The west side of the bridge used to be the bungalow of 48 1 factory where our first home was located, and the east side of the bridge is the boiler room that regularly provides hot water. When I was a child, I used to walk from the other side of the bridge with a thermos bottle to turn on the water, and then I was shivering with hot water and shook my young body across the bridge to go home.
This was the place where the boiler room and public bath were originally located, and now it has completed its special mission with the brand of the times.
The former factory yard has become the south yard of Zhangdian District Chinese Medicine Hospital, or a circle of small bungalows at that time, with mottled walls and vicissitudes. I am deeply impressed by this hospital for three reasons. First, as mentioned above, my head is stitched almost every year. Second, my brother was born here. Third, in addition to hospitals, for us children, it was our secret entertainment base in that era of lack of materials. You can catch cicadas, crickets, cotton spiders and grasshoppers in the open space.
In the past, the morgue was a place where we exercised our courage when we were young. Children who lose the bet will be asked to climb over the iron gate and walk into the mortuary door alone with the smell of burning paper and liquor.
At that time, the brand of Zibo No.9 Middle School, the "highest institution of learning" in the factory, was still there, but after a closer look, it was found that three words were added: kindergarten.
The 48 1 factory guest house, which used to hold wedding banquets, is now closed. I don't know if it's because of the epidemic or the holidays. At that time, the most luxurious dining hall in the dormitory area had also declined.
Go out at nine o'clock in the morning and turn around in the factory and dormitory area before going home. It was only half past ten when I got home. I threw it back and forth for nearly an hour, and I really only had a few minutes to revisit my old place.
You know, in my childhood, it was almost my whole world. At that time, I felt that this "world" was big enough to hold my whole life. The outside world is so far away, far from the horizon, and difficult to reach. Decades later, after revisiting the old place, I found that the "world" suddenly became pitifully small, whether measured by car or by footsteps. It only takes ten minutes to walk from one end of the dormitory area to the other. It is not that the world has become smaller, but that our horizons have widened.
After decades, the outside world has undergone earth-shaking changes, but it has become a corner forgotten by time. Most scenes remain as they were in childhood memories. Perhaps the only change is that fewer and fewer aborigines have demolished open spaces that have not been updated and repaired in time, leaving weeds and garbage everywhere because of neglect of cleaning and care. Several old bottles and new wines have been demolished, and several rows of bungalows have been demolished and several low-rise buildings have been built.
On the way back, my mood was very complicated, including joy and gratification for the reappearance of childhood memories, and sadness for the decline and desolation of my hometown. Reminiscent of the original intention of "going home" this time, one is to give my mother a wish to go back to the place she has been thinking about day and night, and the other is to convince her that this is no longer her home and she can live at home with peace of mind in the future. Today, my mother has also witnessed the "great changes" in her "homeland" that she has struggled for decades. Although she is sometimes confused and confused now, I believe that it is impossible for her to remain calm after witnessing all this.
In fact, I know very well that this trip to find "roots" will not be of great significance for treating my mother's illness. Maybe I just thought of her wish, or I have a wish to visit the place that witnessed my mother's youth and the place that carried my childhood happiness, that's all.
Life will continue. Although my mother's condition is still getting worse, she behaved normally when we were at home. As long as she can forget us in the future, as long as she can distinguish my footsteps from the noisy voices in the corridor, I can continue to see her hope of recovery!
Come on! Mom! Since it is not difficult to hit her when I was young, I have more reason to believe that this ailment will not hit her!