We often talk about loneliness, that is, we haven't noticed the silent companionship of these still lives around us.
Some of the still life have life, but they are still. Some have no life, but they can still make people feel that there is a rich heart hidden under its quiet appearance.
In the river of our life, how many still lives accompany us all the way? They are like the firm and serene pebbles at the bottom of the river. As time goes by, only they are silent. Moreover, through the washing and polishing of the river of years day after day and year after year, they become more and more bright and smooth.
in just a few decades, compared with the vast sea of time, human beings are so ethereal. Still life, on the other hand, can remain the same for thousands of years or even tens of thousands of years. Things have changed, people have changed, peach blossoms are still there, and Iraqis are gone.
what a hurry! The steps of life are forcibly rolled by the wheel of time, and how many people and things make us unable to remember and grasp them.
So, those still lives that have never changed and left me have to start thinking and speaking about them. Their existence makes me understand what real possession is, and I am willing to believe that there is eternity in the world.
In addition, it made me reflect on the transience and illusion of the world.
So, where did it come from, and what specific still lives are easy to arouse our feelings and thoughts? Everyone may have different answers. For me personally, it may be an inconspicuous decoration at home, which is opposite to it all the year round; Perhaps it is a small object that is used to carrying, and it goes with the body day and night; Maybe it's a familiar landmark or a landscape in memory, or maybe it's just a glimpse of a long journey, which will leave a mark on my heart in an instant.
? -tree-
a tree is alive, but if there are no human and external factors, it will be rooted in one place all its life except growing taller and thicker. Although the underground roots will spread around with time, the center will always be in the same place.
There is a jujube tree in the yard of my hometown, which was my most loyal companion when I was young. When spring comes, I sit in a small courtyard with a gentle breeze and watch the jujube tree turn from bare branches to green. When summer comes, I watch it bloom with goose yellow stamens, and then the stamens fall, and then small blue fruits appear one after another. In Qiu Lai, I often observe the clouds and the sky above it in the evening sunset. When winter comes, I surround it with its bare body and slowly change back to green, stepping on the tender footprints in the white snow.
The jujube tree existed before I was born. I don't know its age. Maybe it is an old man.
The old man silently accompanied me through my whole childhood-the most brilliant and simple time in my life. It is always so quiet and peaceful. When I cheat, I like to cry and kick its trunk with my feet, and it smiles; When I am happy, I hold it in circles while exulting, and it still smiles. When doing homework, I like to move out of the small stool and sit under the jujube tree. When playing games, I prefer to have its shade on my head. When I woke up in the morning, I walked out of the yard and saw it at a glance. When I came back from school in the evening, I still saw him at a glance. He has never said a word to me, but this company that has never been absent has undoubtedly added great satisfaction and security to my young age.
A few years ago, when the highway in my hometown was rebuilt, I had to pull out jujube trees in the planning, and jujube trees stopped living like that. And I, too, have since lost the warmest and most loyal partner in my memory.
-house-
There are people in the world before there is a house. Houses are built by people. They are lifeless.
I like to see houses in the rain, whether they are pavilions or homely houses. In the misty rain where there is no one in the empty lane, the upturned corner of the eaves or the raised roof always makes people feel infinite. A house with a certain history is spiritual. Who knows how many owners a house will change in its life? Especially those ancient houses and famous houses, they have stood silently between heaven and earth for thousands of years, and how many historical changes and current events have they witnessed? How many storms, thunder and lightning, heavy rain, snow and ice have you suffered?
On a misty rainy day in my memory, I walked alone in an empty alley. The stone road under my feet was wet and dark, and the alley was dark and remote. The doors and windows of people on both sides were closed, and the sky was dim. It seemed that I was the only passer in the world. With an uneasy and anxious mood, I hope to go out earlier. Just when I was in a hurry despite the rain, a cornice in front of me slowed me down unconsciously. The rain dripped down along its eaves, and it looked so blurred and beautiful in the misty rain. The rain falling down the eaves is like its weeping, which must be an extremely painful blow or encounter, so it cries so heartily; But I can feel its firmness in great sadness. It has not lost its direction, and it still stands stubbornly in its place.
after crying, it will still return to tranquility, just as the sky will shine again after the rain, and the speckled tears are like the witness that the amazing beauty has been destroyed by years.
-street lamps-
Street lamps belong to the night of the city. People pay more attention to the traffic and the high-rise buildings on both sides of the road in the daytime. Only at night, when the sun goes down, the street lamps begin to shine. As a result, the night sky of the city is lit up, the footsteps continue, the wheels continue, and the stories that are to be staged or unfinished continue.
Street lamps are the warmest companions of night walkers. No one knows how many lonely travelers have passed under a street lamp. In their lonely and wandering years, there is always a street lamp that gives them warmth and accompanies them.
There are many stories about the night, and street lamps are the best witnesses.
It was a chilly night, and she asked him to meet under the first street light at No.1 street-that was the place where they first met three years ago. He arrived as promised, but instead of seeing her, he saw a blue scarf tied to the post of the street lamp, which was hers. Tearing off the scarf, something fell to the ground with a crunchy sound. He followed the sound and saw the marriage proposal ring he gave her three months ago. The silver ring glowed faintly under the street lamp, and without any words, she just left.
After another three years, she finally walked out of the golden cage, and with infinite regret and pain, she came to inquire about the news of her first lover, and learned that he had actually left the city. That night, she wandered alone at the street corner, and the street lamp was still there, but under the dim light, only she was lonely and lonely.
-second-hand books-
The second-hand books here refer to books that have been printed and published for a long time (at least ten years) and have been touched by generations.
I still remember a sunny summer day a few years ago, when I was young, I helped my grandmother to "bask in mildew". We moved everything in the house into the yard and then let them sunbathe in the sun. Occasionally, I shook out some old books with yellow stains and a strong musty smell from a big box, picked them up and rummaged through them, but I couldn't understand them. The words in the books are all traditional and vertical, but there are many illustrations. In view of my love for illustrations, I kept those books.
Later, I learned that it was a textbook used by Grandpa when he was young, but I didn't see any of Grandpa's handwriting. I ran to ask Grandpa, and Grandpa explained to me with a smile: "At that time, Mr. Wang was not allowed to scribble on the book, but to keep the writing neat." This one is a three-character classic, this one is a thousand-character script, and this one is ... "I put the Buddha to see a young child with a serious face holding a book and following the old gentleman to read it. The years are chaotic and blurred. In a blink of an eye, the young child has become an old man. We can only reminisce about the distant and vague romance of Guang Chen in the curious questioning of our little granddaughter.
If you come across some dusty old books at home, don't throw them away in a hurry, dust them off, and gently open them in the silent time. Maybe there are old things in them that interest you and want to explore.
-plush toys-
As a woman, I like plush toys far better than other metal or plastic toys like tanks, planes and guns. On the one hand, plush toys are very comfortable to hold in your hand, and on the other hand, plush toys are generally made by imitating various small animals or cartoon characters. They either have big dark eyes, sharp little noses or cute little ears. In short, they have facial features and expressions, which make people feel kind and happy.
In my lonely and stubborn girlhood, plush toys gave me great comfort. When a person stays in the room, his eyes will occasionally fall on the plush toys. At that time, he feels that they seem to have a desire to talk and communicate with me. Before going out, he feels that one of them is about to jump off the bedside or table and tell me not to leave, so take it with me.
The most unbearable thing is to see the abandoned doll lying on a pile of filth in the trash can or garbage truck. I remember once passing a garbage truck of sanitation workers, I saw a gray-white fluffy pig lying on the garbage and dust under him, with two big eyes looking helplessly at the sky. How white and clean it used to be, and how much it was favored by its owners. Now it is totally embarassed and treated as garbage, which makes people stay away from it. I can't even look it in the eye when I walk past it.
The fate of toys is entirely in the hands of their owners. Although there is no life, they have actually accompanied us and given us happy times. I don't think we should throw them away casually, even if we have a new love.
Although it is universal for human beings to like the new and hate the old, it is not only disrespectful to the old itself, but also disrespectful to ourselves. The old carries our past.
We should give the old things a decent curtain call.