暖冬cool夏
這裏一年四季溫暖如春，沒有酷暑沒有嚴寒......
Some of my childhood memories were a blur, and became more blurry when I strolled in an old city in which I was born and raised. The re-structured city, like breaking puzzles, polished and put them back again, took on a new and strange face. Was this the hometown that I spent my first twenty years? The old square where people in 1970s gathered for revolutionary slogans gave away to modern commercial buildings; the rickshaw sedan witnessed as late as 1990s were nowhere to be seen. Modern cars were sprawling instead. Though this was not the first time I went back home to see my parents, who moved to a new home after I came to the U.S., I couldn’t connect it well.
In the afternoon of the second day of Chinese New Year, my brother, my father and I decided to visit the old campus at the other end of the city. It is the place where my father spent almost his entire life teaching and working. It is the place where my brother and I had our most memories. When the car was let in and crawled along a narrow road, flanked by old leafless phoenix trees on both sides, old memories flooded in. The same entrance, the same basketball courts, the same buildings for teaching and library, the same location for cafeteria, all remodeled, of course.
We parked our car in front of a new building and got off. Dad pointed out to an endangered building sheltered in a corner, and asked us if we remember anything? In an instant, we recognized that it was an administrative building Dad once worked in for years.
As we continued our walk and stepped over a small iron gate at the back, a familiar passage by the side of a high solid wall came to our sights. Stood on the other side were the three high residential buildings for teachers, weathered and shabby now after being there for more than four decades. Entering the last building, which we dwelled in 1980s, was like lifting a lid off my memory well, distant but clear. What resurfaced on my mind was the then excitement of moving down from a moist one-floor bedroom uphill, where water cannot be supplied sufficiently and where we did not have our bathroom but a shared stingy public one. The then new apartment was around 40-50 square foot, with three bedrooms, one tiny kitchen and a simple bath. I had my own room, and my brother had his. My room was smaller, with a window facing north, a bed by the walls, a wardrobe on the corner, and a desk by the window. Many a day I studies late into night, for the National Standard Tests, with a dream that one day I could land a good college……
The flurry of memories was interrupted when my brother suggested walking further uphill. A flight of stone stairs led us up, and we both stopped at an old shallow well. The well was at the bottom of cornered walls, with scattering plants and small patches of green moss around the area. This water, seemingly murky, is said to be trickling down from the stream in the mountains. It was this well that I frequented when our household ran out of drinking water. Mom used to give me a scoop and a pail or two, and gingerly I scooped the upper part of the water, not to stir the mud or sediment at the bottom. When the pail(s) was/were full, I carried home up along the long stairs, stopping in the middle for a breath. This could be repeated within a day, depending on the need. Alum (明礬) was then used to settle turbid water before cooking or drinking. Of course, we had better water sources, wells deeper and water more purified. However, they were further away. Mom and I had to trek along the meandering mountain road, carrying a big heavy bucket hung in the middle of a pole from our shoulders. This well, locally known as a “frog well”, was once our closest water source. The sight of its being well-preserved made me relive the moments.
Our visit soon came to a halt, as the courtyard where we shared with other ten families before moving downhill was abolished and replaced by a new building. Barred by a gate and blocked by a high wall, we were like visitors that could not see what was beyond the wall, a place that had our fondest childhood reminiscences.
故鄉情，故鄉行，故鄉的故事說不盡。
暖冬深情的文字令人動容！
提醒沒讀英文部份的朋友，其實英文的內容在中文部份是沒有的。感覺英文的內容情真意切，還有些許惆悵。回不去的童年，回不去的家鄉。
這次回去的收獲真大。在墓地也有人說不要把照的相帶回家，說是不吉利什麽的。
我跟子喬也說將某人變成聖經《雅歌》書裏麵的良人：）
周末好！
唐西也來開博吧，你詩文俱佳，記錄下來啊。我來看看汪峰的歌來聽聽。謝謝你，周末快樂！
我相信輪回，相信靈魂，相信邊神。；）
讚土豆的獻身精神！
你還讓現人多食，哈哈哈！
我都說博主是才女一個，你看看，這情商，居然把某人這麽貼切地用中英文來表達，某(M)人(R)=Mr，勝過LD，勝過什麽領導。
最後我成了Mr.服
這個周末還準備來盤桂花魚招呼良人，遠在天涯海角的我們是吃不到的啦，倒是想說，放上汪峰的Mr.Man，作為背景音樂，然後飯前先默讀：
家事相尋愛與恨，某人別來倦成疲。
欲知日晚在何許，唯說碟中有桂魚。
改自宋朝，黃庭堅的詩句。
接著，動筷吧！
我的英文裏沒有出現my mother是因為那日母親沒有一同前去，而這篇英文就是那一天的日記而已。
我不住西雅圖的，Btw,你這個桂花魚我倒是可以試著做做的:)不過，國內的生活真是方便，吃的好，蔬菜品種多，也便宜。
'另外，你真是博學多識，連老外對墓地的講究都知道。謝謝你這個墓地不能拍照的解釋，很make sense，讓我漲知識了。
最後一句也說得很對，越是小地方的人，越重師生情義，以後沒飯吃了，就回老家，混口飯吃還是有的。再次感謝唐西的留言和知識，祝福你的2019！
這”某人”的英文翻譯還真不好拿捏，再說古時的中國，某人叫良人。良字左右兩邊各加偏旁，就可成郎或娘。某人改成良人，或許更有漢味，意猶未盡。
博主的”良人”滿風趣的，桂花和海鮮都喜歡，那麽就兩者合一，來條桂花魚唄。
這魚在西雅圖是吃不上了，反正那年頭我在那裏吃的是石斑魚。現在隻記得那裏有一個”又一村”什麽的，在唐人街裏頭。
有意思的是，博主的英文blogs裏頭，有Father，Brother，但少了Mother，Wow！
還別說，老外的墓地也滿講究風水的，都是好位置，至於朝向就沒有中國人那麽地講究，但朝著大海的那些真讓我羨慕，也感慨。
至於墓地不宜照相，一則是對逝者不敬，二者易招惹邪祟。博主老師的父母挺講究也滿守道的嘛。金屋銀屋不如俺家的草屋，西雅圖再宜居，博主父母也多會擺擺手，豈有此理，買個麵包也要開車。
一日為師，終身為父，美國人懂？還是在家鄉有人氣哦。
子喬也是個十分開明通達之人，看得透，看得開。有時在想，我們是不是還相對年輕，才可以這麽無所畏懼：)謝謝子喬的仔細閱讀，子喬周五周末好！
我也認為我百年之後不要在這個世界上留下任何東西。時間湮沒一切，別說我們普通人了，就是帝王將相也早已煙飛灰滅，無蹤跡可循。
我們常說的，曆史車輪滾滾向前，帶走多少，又留下多少。我們的下一代如果能站在我們的肩膀上看得更遠，走得更遠，我們的一切付出那就都值了。Plus,最好的紀念或許就是在心裏。謝謝C學者的慧言和到訪。問候你！
我把自己全捐醫院了，不讓後人多事……
我們這批人的犧牲和價值，在於給下一代拓展了生存空間。不過，代代有傳承，也代代被遺忘，如浩瀚長河東流不複，也如泥沙俱下沉積湮滅，如是而已。
另，非常認同“某人”的觀點，我是這麽想的，活著的時候都已經連根拔起了，就沒必要去在乎死了以後的那塊地了。你我都隻有一個孩子，如果孩子不在墓地附近居住，買了等於是給孩子增加精神和經濟上的負擔。如果孩子住老遠的，沒法來掃墓，墓地就隻能荒涼一片了，與“鄰居”比起來，不是太淒慘了。我的選擇是海葬，這樣，孩子無論到哪裏，隻要有海的地方就可以想起我，多好，省心又省力。而且海水是可以流動的，它可以帶著我流到世界各地，包括我的故鄉：）
是啊，人走過的路多了，經曆的事情多了，就會看淡一些事情，景色如此，人生如此。謝謝迪兒的留言和共鳴。周末好！
妹妹這篇有點傷感。為什麽不能照相呢？我去年回去，給我父母買了墓地，我媽一起去的，所以我還專門照了像，回家給我爸爸看。
讚同你老公的觀點。對我自己而言，我也覺得要墓地的意義不大。