Text/Han Zhongzhen In the depths of everyone’s memory, there are always some crystal fragments that make people dream about them. Although they have been dusted for a long time, they are like the aging wine hidden deep in the cellar. After the baptism of time and the washing of time, they become more and more beautiful.

It becomes mellow and spicy, but becomes more and more memorable.

This is the old house in my hometown, which accompanied me through the unforgettable moments of my childhood.

I have not touched this memory for more than 20 years. Now, the old house is indeed old. It has gone through many vicissitudes and has gone through the baptism of time. The familiar bricks and tiles, windows and lattice, columns and citrons

, instantly brought me back to my childhood memories, those past mental journeys, past feelings of brotherhood, parents' watchfulness, wanderers' dreams, emotions and struggles, gatherings and separations, which made people feel filled with emotion.

The old house is located in a small nook in Cuidian, Buyunshan, my hometown. It is surrounded by mountains on three sides. There is only a path in front of the door leading to the ditch. Standing on the opposite hillside, you can look down at the old house. Although it has been repaired several times, the old house has not lost its traces carved by the years.

Wrinkles make the old house look more aged and deep; the walls of the old house have been washed away by wind and rain, leaving streaks and interlaced lines, old and tight, as if they have witnessed a period of vicissitudes of life; walking

Approaching the old house, I gently caressed the light gray doors and windows, but I didn't dare to push them open easily, for fear of disturbing the clear dream of the old house... In the clear dream, there were the childhoods of the brothers and sisters: the sun gradually set in the west, and there was a sound coming from under the eaves.

As our mother urged us to go home, we headed in one direction, crushing the setting sun, and ran home. We eagerly grabbed the rice dumplings and stuffed them into our mouths.

I looked up and saw that the smoke from the roof seemed to still be there, and the smell of firewood rice seemed to still be there, but my mother's loving scolding voice was gone.

There are two tall pear trees in front of the old house. After I went to school, I often did my homework and memorized ancient poems under the trees... In summer, hiding under the shade of the trees was very cool.

The small vegetable garden in the yard was kept well organized by my mother. She could always pick vegetables from it during spring planting and autumn harvest.

On summer nights, the whole family sat in the yard enjoying the cool air. The moon at that time was particularly gentle and always caressed my face quietly. I would always fall asleep while my mother told stories, and her voice was as gentle as

The bright moon fell on my pillow and was burned into my dream.

Now there are only mottled walls and scattered glass windows, tacitly sharing with me the family happiness that has been engraved into my life, still dusty in a corner, looking back affectionately.

Regarding the old house, although we are getting farther and farther away, there are still too many thoughts flowing in my heart, and too many memories fill my eyes. Looking at the old house standing quietly, with the breeze blowing... I can only

Turned into a deep sigh!

Han Zhongzhen: Born in May 1975, works in Zhuanghe Municipal Education Bureau.

I have loved literature since I was a child, am serious about work, good at thinking, and keep writing!

Adhering to the principle of not being afraid of the strong, not bullying the weak, neither humble nor arrogant, just be yourself!

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