There was no wind at midnight. In this pure time that only belonged to me, suddenly, an indescribable sense of panic flooded my heart and spread in my body inch by inch. I feel suffocated, eager to escape, but sadly found that there is nowhere to go. Some thick and heavy things in time slipped across my face, leaving traces of aging. After all, we can't escape. The slow but firm progress of the wheel of time has been ruthlessly run over in the dust flying all the way.

to be exact, this sudden panic comes from an album I saw when I was cleaning my room. This photo album, which records my childhood, has been forgotten for too long and has been covered with thick dust. But it still seems unwilling to sink with cobwebs in the dark corner of the bookcase, and always maintains a quiet and calm posture, silently waiting for the grown-up child.

The yellowed memory was opened again and flashed before my eyes as fresh as ever. Once again, I picked up my lost childhood. At that time, I was a little black and thin, standing between the blue sky, white clouds, spring breeze and sunny days, smiling brightly.

Laugh because of happiness, and run because of excitement. We used to live simply and directly without any cover. Perhaps, the soul of childhood is pure, soft and primitive, and it is closer to the eternal truth of life than the utilitarian heart of the philistine after growing up. So that there is always an illusion, as if everything at that time will always happen under the bright golden sunshine. Solidified, become the memory of this life.

After all, memory has turned a new page, and we are running forward blindly. Only when we look back inadvertently and accidentally can we know that we have lost too much, or even forgotten our original appearance.

I remember, in a narrow alley or an abandoned open space, we took pictures with great interest, throwing sandbags, playing hide-and-seek and bumping into kidnappers; I remember, we ate the peony bark and cotton candy with great satisfaction, shouting excitedly and flying kites while rolling iron rings; I used to remember that we ate jiaozi's new clothes and set off firecrackers in groups in the New Year's Eve. I remember that we were clamoring in front of the TV to watch the Smurfs Huluwa and the Black Cat Sheriff, and we dreamed that we were the Monkey King Optimus Prime and Private Zhang Ga in our dreams ...

Maybe we were weak in childhood. I will cry for breaking my knee, and I will tremble with fear because I sleep in separate beds with my parents. However, looking back today, this weakness is more real, more calm and more human than the current heavy defense and pretending to be strong. Lao Tzu said, "The strong are the dead; Weak and subtle, the students are also born. It is invincible when the soldiers are strong, and it is constant when the wood is strong. Strong, weak and fine. " At this point, I can't help but bow my head and sigh. It's so nice to cry when I want to!

Looking up at the window, the sleepless city is still showing ambiguity and glitz in the neon and noise. The world in the moonlight is no longer quiet. Some sadly recall our childhood composition-Fantasy for the New Century. At that time, we lived a simple life, but we were looking forward to a common ideal: we will have a prosperous city and a splendid life in the new century. Now this once ideal is truly touching us, but we can only talk to the shadows alone in exquisite buildings.

Actually, I still have to thank God. At least I was a child.

Going back to childhood

Childhood is always haunting. Looking back now, it is some distant and vague feelings. Not so specific, but so kind; Not so clear, but so unforgettable. The lost childhood is a dreamlike memory, which can't be touched and only exists in a midnight dream. Just like looking at a river, the other side of the river is my childhood. All I can see is the outline of some trees, dense shade, but I can't see clear lines. I forgot the color, which should be a vivid and wonderful oil painting, but in my memory it became a black and white sketch model and an eternal picture. I will never go back to my childhood. The long river of time has blocked the distance between me and it forever.

I was a little disappointed and sighed: What a pity. I can only stand across the river and pursue it. Dig out the old memories, enrich the memories with the most vivid words, enrich the childhood in the words, and bring back the real life pictures.

Even so, all I can get back is only one in ten thousand, which are just patchy memories. However, this is enough. While I miss the past, I have been moved and satisfied by my heart forever.

in retrospect, I remember the smell of grass coming to my nose. Memories gradually became clear. It was in a small bamboo forest in front of my cousin's house. In this long and narrow area, how many laughter and laughter have been left, and how many innocent joys of childhood have drifted away.

It's hot in summer, and most of my childhood memories are this impression. It seems that the summer was always extremely hot, and the sun was always baking the earth high. The sunshine is bright and bright, which is a bit dizzy. We are always sweating. At noon, after adults take a nap, we always come to the bamboo forest to play.

Naughtily climb some nameless trees and play hide-and-seek with bare feet. Hiding in the bushes, hiding in the grass, making the playmates confused, but hiding in the dark and laughing. The best feeling is that the sun shines through the mottled bamboo forest, half covering the figure and half reflecting the body. At this time, lying on the grass lazily and comfortably is really comfortable. Eyes full of green, needle-shaped bamboo leaves fluttering in the wind, making a "rustling" sound. Close your eyes, the world seems so small, and the reverie in fairy tales spreads. Occasionally, a crisp bird song or dancing butterfly flies by, which is more dotted with colorful childhood. Childhood is full of dreams, and the air is full of poetic flavor.

Sometimes, annoying cicadas who don't understand the current situation shout, which leads to trouble. We discussed catching a few and teaching them a good lesson. Of course there are many ways. Generally, a net is tied to a connected wooden stick, and then the cousin completes the task. I'm always looking for a goal, no matter how cleverly you hide it, you can't escape the sharp eyes of children. My cousin is agile, tall and almost never misses. First, I slowly touched the net, and when I was close to cicada, I suddenly stopped. Adjust the angle, fight hard, and the cicada will become a prisoner. Keep barking, as if in protest, we all cheered for my cousin. After catching it, in order to prevent cicadas from escaping, most of them cut off its wings. If you want it to bark, squeeze it hard. It's cruel to think about it today.

sometimes, we pick some leaves, form a wreath and wear them on our heads. That posture, immediately has the flavor of a brave warrior. Learn to fight in a decent way, pick up a branch in your hand, use it as a pistol, and assign it to fight. "Dadada" imitates the sound of a gun and has fun.

get up early in the summer morning. Come to the bamboo forest and pick some bamboo leaves. Wet dew, crystal clear, gently pressing bamboo leaves. When there is a lot of dew, the leaves can't support the weight, so they slide down roundly. Leaves, then very rhythmic vibration. In an instant, it returned to its original posture like a spring. That elasticity is simply ethereal and wonderful. Dew, dripping in the palm, is cool. Touch the bamboo leaves with your hands, and the dripping water will spread to every cell in your body.

at dusk, dig some bamboo shoots with grandma. Take a tool and dig up the soil next to it. The shovel points at the root and knocks a few times. The bamboo shoot, as if it had been cut by a knife, rose. I still can't name that flat, knife-like tool.

As night falls, we often move chairs outside to enjoy the cool. There is a bright moon in the sky, and there is a bamboo forest in front of you. The breeze passed gently, bringing the fragrance of rice flowers in the fields, shaking the shadows of trees and dancing strange nature dances. Especially on the night of power failure, the moonlight is always particularly bright. All the attention is turned to the sky. The dim sky is like a big ball. The moon hangs in the air like a bright lamp, shining brightly and faintly covering the earth, like a veiled cage dream. We often imagine the stories we have heard. Perhaps, the Jade Rabbit in the night palace is also playing at this time. On nights like that, I often think of Li Bai's "Thoughts on a Quiet Night": so bright a gleam on the foot of my bed, could there have been a frost already?. I raise my head to gaze at the moon, Lowering my head, my nostalgia comes around. Counting the stars in the sky makes me drunk. Drunk in the moonlight, drunk in childhood, and drunk in memory.

My innocent childhood, this bamboo forest alone has many endless stories, how can people not miss it? A thousand words can't express that wonderful childhood. Time flies, and now I have revisited my hometown, and that bamboo forest has long since ceased to exist. That fairy-tale memory can only be found in dreams. Childhood, like that colorful cloud, comes and goes gently, leaving no trace, only reappearing in dreams.

Childhood

At night, I sat by the window alone, looking at the night sky and thinking of my childhood friends. I remember when I was very young, my grandmother told me that everyone was made of a star in the sky. I believe it. I compare my childhood friends to stars. So I have developed a habit of watching stars. Whenever I see the stars all over the sky, I will think of my childhood stories, my childhood friends and every time we spent together.

do you believe in fate? I believe it. I think it is really a fate that we can meet and get to know each other among hundreds of millions of people in this world. So I cherish every friendship around me, especially my childhood friends, because we spent nine years together in primary school and junior high school. I think it's really not easy, is it? How many nine years can a life have? And it is the most unforgettable childhood! Up to now, I still clearly remember everything in my childhood.

Childhood is beautiful. There is no worry, no sorrow, no need to think too much. We play together, study together, and tell our hearts and dreams without any consideration for each other. Although there are always some small contradictions in the period, we are happy more often, but I know that all the joys and sorrows have become the past, and even the best time has become history, which will not be repeated again. They can only be treasured in my heart forever.

do you believe there are eternal things in the world? I believed it at that time, and I think my friendship with my friends will be eternal. But after many years, I slowly found that people are always changing, and so am I. Everyone's life circle is constantly changing. We are just a short fragment in each other's life. Maybe I am like a meteor in your heart, just a flash in your life. After a few years, you may be able to recall that you had a classmate like me before, but after decades, I have already become a vague shadow. Friendship has also rusted. Although we often say that friendship remains unchanged and naively think that we will do it, we know very well that everyone's life circle is constantly changing, so few people become friends, and few people remain as friends, and that drifting emotion is precious. So I don't dare to shout loudly: "Our friendship is eternal!" But in my heart, I still cherish the memories of my childhood. I always miss the days when we were together again. It was so happy. I know that this kind of day will never exist again. Perhaps the friendship of that year has faded in your hearts. As time goes by, we seem to be strangers, without the passion and enthusiasm of that year. Whenever the Chinese New Year is a holiday, everyone is no longer walking around, but always guarding that loneliness at home. Sometimes I meet you online, and it's just a simple greeting.

It has been many years since I first understood the meaning of friendship. I feel that I have cherished some people, forgotten some people, and some people who wanted to forget but haven't forgotten, and some people who didn't want to forget but have lost. Life has given us a lot. Whether we accept it or not, some regrets are inevitable, and it is precisely because of this that life has a kind of incomplete beauty. But I still wish you all happiness. Although you may have forgotten me in the journey of life, I will always cherish the wonderful time we spent together in my heart.

There is nothing else to ask. After many years, when we pass by in a corner of the world, you can point to my back and say to my friends around you: This man was my childhood classmate. Prove that there was a me in your heart, and my heart is enough. After many years, I understand that ten thousand moments constitute the past, and ten thousand pasts constitute eternity. What is eternal is not friendship, but the memory of childhood.

Looking at the night sky, childhood friends, remember? We once wrote a beautiful memory together under this sky. No matter when and where, please don't forget that in the distance, there is a silent blessing for you: friends, take care!

childhood is out of chapter

A

childhood is blown away by the onion flute, blowing out the distant horizon; The river is its tail, swaying and clear, and the hills are its footprints, with far-reaching and profound footsteps. The old elm tree at the street corner, looking at its distant back, breathed deeply, the sunset was inhaled by it, and the sunrise was exhaled by it.

when I was a child, I squatted on a branch and wanted to write a poem.

it was early spring, and the branches had just arched out a bright yellow tree code. If you take a piece, it will squeeze out new yellow juice and stick to your childhood fingers.

childhood does not belong to the branches, but the heart is filled with fruits.

B

childhood was a little titmouse, flying among flowers, nodding at the sight of a flower, flapping its wings and ringing a delicate child's voice. Is the little tit asking about the way out of spring? Little tits get lost in spring.

In March, Xinghua opened her eyes and stood piously in the west wind, telling her hope to the sun. A revived butterfly fluttered its wings and its tentacles waved the sunshine.

childhood led me, standing on the road of March.

C

The sunset jumped down the mountain stream, quiet and without echo.

under the stars, the frog's drum sounds, and the frog's drum sounds on the heart of childhood.

under the stars, the heart of childhood is beating on the frog drum, and the sound of footsteps gently vibrates the river bank. With the moon of play, the heart of childhood is broken in the river again and again.

There is no moon, and my mother's mirror is broken on the river.

Mom's headscarf is laid flat on the island, and the stars are singing in the sky, making the long lovesickness round.

at night, the heart bird guides the course, the river holds its head high, and the homesick face reflects light, like a frame of autumn moon breaking on the river.

D

On the riverside with snow, trees, grass and mountains, on the shore with birds, clouds and sun, open the picture and choose to enjoy Brodskaya and the sea she hopes, just beyond the mountain.

The white river, the distant blue mountains and the green trees bear childhood.

When I was a child, I ran to that hill, trying to put the whole world into my eyes. I was surrounded by trees, the sky above my head, birds singing in my ears, and the river gurgling below. Are the five-color bottles in spring still in love with that year?

There are snow, trees, grass and mountains, birds and clouds, and a locked childhood.

E

The sunset slowly enters the sheepfold, childhood-front teeth laugh, and the moon rotates on the wind.

the distant horn, like the whip of time, swung over and hit the river, and the river broke.