My distant thoughts have nowhere to vent, telling the loneliness of this season, so I have to leave the blooming chrysanthemums in the world, and then let the petals peel off on the wall in the barren tobacco year, suppressing the thread in my heart, suppressing the blooming snow lotus, letting the yellowed smile flow into my fingers, and then crept into my heart and screamed hysterically across the barren fields. Where are you today?
My distant thoughts have nowhere to gather, and a lamp is inextricably linked with sorrow, and the reason is still chaotic. Where is the way home? Looking back silently, I am doomed to stick to my life. Why does the lonely soul fall asleep again? Why is the noise the next day full of tears? Once, it was difficult for the sea to touch the water, but it was not my intention to hurt your words. I wanted to make up for the past, but the light of the morning sun dried up the last line of sadness, and the black ink was peaceful. The rotting willows are still swaying and charming, but the situation has changed. Then let my thoughts, which have nowhere to vent, drift with the homeless water all day, everywhere.
My distant thoughts have nowhere to say goodbye, and they have evaporated in this deserted city, evoking a scarred soul and growing old alone. I don't know whether the next season will be reborn or reincarnation. Endless yearning is my inner entanglement, as fragmented and messy as those entangled in the past. I feel the comfort of revisiting my hometown, and I know that the broken guzheng can't play the answer I want, but I can't bear to criticize my full moon for being more lonely. Sand in the wind and sunset at dusk remind me of you again.
Distant thoughts have nowhere to go home, and I gradually get used to passing by in the world of mortals. It's so confusing to meet unexpectedly. If I want to see this fragrant world, I must let my thoughts wander around. Sometimes, like a lost child, I look at the hanging reflection and feel at a loss. I think about the rising direction tomorrow. Maybe the horizon is my starting point. The youth I spent was too short to disappear without a trace. But at least after a trip in this world, I still want to die with that chrysanthemum, only to find that this year's owner is not me, because I don't know where I miss you.
The west wind rises and the east wind breaks. I miss when it will be returned. Time is silent, but I feel lonely. Drifting duckweeds are still looking for their way home, but the water ahead has stopped, and I know it's not too late. It turns out that carefree tourists don't need to go home, broken kites don't need care, withered chrysanthemums don't need sympathy, and my distant thoughts will never end.
Author's information: Xu Binmei, Class 2, Lingbi Middle School, Anhui Province (15).
My story
I don't know who I am.
I remember that I used to be surnamed Peng Shen, but now my surname is Jin. What's my last name? I don't know! I don't know who I am!
It starts with 1989. I was just born. Of course, I didn't know anything at that time. These things were told to me by adults later. It's about early spring and it's quite cold. At Faku Station in Liaoning Province, the waiting hall echoed with a baby's tragic cry, and many people were attracted. I saw a shivering child wrapped in a thin blanket lying on a bench in the waiting room, crying desperately, which attracted many people around:
"Whose child is this?"
"Yes, how did such a good child get here?"
"Her adult? Why is nobody in charge? "
After a long time, the child still ignored it.
"Strange, who might have thrown it?"
"......"
While everyone was talking, a farmer broke into the crowd, picked up the child and left without saying a word. The onlookers looked at him strangely and thought it was his child. Some people chased him and asked:
"Is this your child?"
"No."
"Then why did you take her away?"
"Can't you see that the child is dying? I want to feed her. "
Then he took the child away.
In fact, at that time, he felt that there were two sons at home, only one girl was needed, and meeting one here was exactly what he wanted.
Many people denounced him behind his back and said that he had problems.
He had planned to go to a distant relative's house on business, but he didn't go because he met me at the station.
The farmer with a baby in his arms is my adoptive father and my savior. His surname is Peng.
He took me home, which surprised my foster mother. She was dissatisfied and refused to accept me as an abandoned baby of unknown origin. She insisted that her husband send me back to my original place;
"Today, you must put her out, where to pick it up, or we will divorce! This kind of day can't pass! "
Neighbors also came against him. Some people said he was sick, others said he was idle, and his adoptive father was silent. My adoptive father's brother-in-law was so angry that he grabbed a bottle and swung it at his head, but he hugged me tightly and then his head broke. He still hugged me tightly and ran to the second sister's house with blood all over his face. In this way, the adoptive father said that he would not send me back and insisted on raising me.
The foster mother couldn't beat him and ran back to her family in a rage. Family advised her:
"All so big, also divorced. Besides, what about the two sons? They are all in middle school. "
After some persuasion, the foster mother was helpless and finally had to accept this reality.
They named me Peng Yan. However, it was not until later that they discovered that there was an egg-sized sarcoma in my spine. I didn't know it was congenital spina bifida until I checked it. With the increase of age, the nerves of the whole lower limbs are compressed, resulting in out-of-control urination and defecation. What is more serious is the rupture of sarcoma, which is life-threatening at any time, and generally does not live to 16 years old.
My adoptive father spent a lot of energy and expenses on me and went to Shenyang, the provincial capital, many times. Because the deposit and medical expenses are too expensive, he always comes home dejectedly. I was sensible at that time. I clearly remember that once my adoptive father took me to the hospital, and the doctor said that he dared not have an operation easily. First of all, he can't afford the expenses. Second, the success rate of surgery can only account for 30%!
Another time, my adoptive father took me to Shenyang Civil Affairs Bureau to open an account, because I abandoned my baby when I was a child, and there was no land for me in this family. When the adoptive father said that I was the child he found, the person in charge said this to the adoptive father:
"You are so idle, the child is not a wanted man, what do you want her to do? Just pinch her, pinch her and throw her away, or die! "
Adoptive father short of breath, on striking table:
"I won't do it!"
Then take me away.
I still remember the man's appearance: shallow pockmarked face, red nose, big mouth, baldness, old face, big belly and fat.
Coming out of the Civil Affairs Bureau, my adoptive father took me to find a hotel to stay in Shenyang. My aunt there was full of sympathy and respect for my adoptive father after listening to his story. They like me very much, and we stayed there for one night without any expenses.
My family is too poor, so to speak, since childhood, many things were given by others, and I picked up what others left and used what others didn't use.
At school age, I am not allowed to go to school because I don't have a hukou and for some reasons I don't know. I often ask my foster mother:
"Mom, why don't I go to school?" Foster mother smiled and said:
"Wait until you grow up." I asked doubtfully again:
"Then when can I grow up?" She doesn't seem to know how to give me a satisfactory answer
I don't know what the school is like, but I know it is a place where some children like me go, and it is also a place I have always longed for.
One day, I followed my classmates to school. First of all, Lang Lang's reading voice attracted me, and the teacher's friendly language and students scrambled to answer questions. Clean playground, high basketball stands, rows of horizontal bars and parallel bars, surrounded by green trees and red flowers. At that time, I felt as if they were living in a fairy tale kingdom!
"They are very happy to go to school. When do I go to school? " I looked at them with envy and thought silently.
I didn't know anything at that time, because I was disabled and was often bullied by the children in my neighbor's house. When I play with them, I must listen to them, otherwise they will stone me, hit me with branches, and often go home scarred. Although my adoptive parents asked me the reason for my injury, I never said anything and I didn't know what I was thinking.
When I was six or seven, I knew how to take care of my parents. My foster mother is ill. I bought her medicine, poured water and did some simple housework, such as sweeping the floor and washing dishes. My foster mother has grown to like me. She often sings Swallow, Dongfanghong and Nanniwan to me, and my two brothers like me more. The adoptive father suffers from osteomyelitis, and there is a deep hole in the bend of his right leg, where a chopstick can be inserted.
When I was ten years old, my adoptive father sent me to Shenyang Children's Welfare Institute through the civil affairs department.
When I arrived at the welfare home, my name was Shen (because all the children in Shenyang welfare home were surnamed Shen).
Because I am particularly talkative and smart, my uncles and aunts in the welfare home soon fell in love with me. In order to make my illness recover as soon as possible, the leaders of the welfare home made propaganda everywhere and called on good people in the society to raise money for me. I have had three major operations and spent a lot of money. Now I have basically recovered. Unfortunately, I can still run and jump, because the operation missed the best period, resulting in inconvenient movement of my legs and feet and loss of consciousness of my lower limbs. Finally saved his life.
I didn't go to the welfare home for a few days because the toilet in the school is too far from the teaching building. Holding my disabled lower limbs, I rang the doorbell as soon as I got to the toilet door. More importantly, my enlightenment education missed the best period and I couldn't keep up with the results in all subjects.
I am reluctant to hear the news that I will not go to school, and I can't help it. I haven't been to school for nearly a year and a half. I am sad. In addition, I watched a batch of orphan friends my age adopted by foreigners, and they all had beautiful, happy and warm families. They live in a beautiful villa, a quiet little yard, and have their own rooms and computers. They received an authentic western education and dreamed that they could speak fluent English in the near future and wear straight clothes. I am so envious. I also want to have a home! In fact, many people like me and want to adopt me when they see me, but they have to give up on me when they know that I am unwell.
I cried and asked the stars, the moon, the sun, and even everything in front of me, and they couldn't tell me.
I even want to die, but I have no courage every time! I don't know what kept me from committing suicide and forced me to live.
My fate has begun again.
Just when I was most desperate, maybe God never shuts one door but he opens another, maybe God is fair to everyone, maybe I shouldn't be doomed, maybe everything will come to an end, and I miraculously met my rescuer, a caring person-Jin Fuzhong, a real good man.
He is an oboe player in Liaoning Opera House. He knows a lot of things. He can play saxophone, violin and other musical instruments, and is good at Go. Most of the students he teaches are masters and have won prizes all over the country.
Before 2003, he insisted on being a volunteer in the welfare home and taught us Go and violin once a week. Later, he felt that only once a week, too little time, can not achieve the expected results. On one occasion, Mr. King asked me:
"Do you want to come to my house?"
Such a sudden sentence made me both excited and scared, because I was afraid of bringing trouble to others because of my disability. I don't know if I should say yes, but I've been thinking for a long time. Finally, I agreed happily.
From that day on, I have been expecting him to take me away early.
I will never forget September 2, 2003, which was a sunny Saturday. Teacher Jin went through special adoption procedures in the civil affairs department, and six other partners and I came to Teacher Jin's house.
Mr. Jin lives in Dongyou New Village, Baishan East Road, Huanggu District. He lives in a four-story conjoined villa. There is a grape trellis and a small yard in front of the door. This house is the welfare enjoyed by Mr. Jin's father, a revolutionary veteran cadre. He gave us the house to live in.
We were greeted by Mr. Si (Mr. Jin's wife) and my aunt (Mr. Jin's sister), and there were grandparents, uncles and aunts at home.
At that time, his family opened a kindergarten. Later, in order to take full care of us, the kindergarten was closed, and all his energy was put on us.
The quiet home was broken by us. I found that they didn't regard us as orphans, regarded us as their own children and took care of us in every possible way.
One day, our teacher called us together and said to us:
"We are all family in the future, and you are all members of this family. We brought you home to let you learn some knowledge and skills so that you can stand in the society in the future. From now on, older children can call their children by their names, and children must call their older brothers or sisters, not directly by their names ... "
I suddenly feel at home. After many times of careful observation and experience, I found that everything they said and did was true, and I finally found a relative I could rely on. I had a bold idea, so I quietly found the teacher and whispered to her:
"Teacher Si, can I discuss something with you?" She didn't think much and said:
"Yes, you can tell me anything."
"From now on, I don't care if you call a teacher."
She didn't know what I was going to say, a face of doubt, I went on to say:
"I want to call you mom, can I?"
She froze, for a long time, I saw tears of excitement in her eyes, nodded and said:
"Well, good boy, yes! Of course! "
At first, I was a little embarrassed. I have never called anyone "mom and dad" in the welfare home.
That night, the washing machine stopped, and I deliberately seized this opportunity, seemingly inadvertently but with some fear, but my lips trembled and I whispered:
"Mom, the washing machine has stopped!"
I don't know how she felt at that time, but there was a surge of heat in her chest, and I blushed and was secretly happy. At that time, my friends around me were surprised and puzzled to ask:
"What did you just call your teacher?"
"Call mom."
"Who told you to call?"
"I called it myself and she agreed!"
Later, they followed suit slowly, not only changing their names, but also taking the initiative to change their surnames: My name is Jin Xin, Huang Li, Jin Chao and Jin ... We have never called others "Mom and Dad" from the heart! In fact, I am not only because they are kind to me, but most importantly, I never want to be sent back. I think this is a feasible and good way.
We are not related, not related at all. This is the impulse of true feelings, which makes us willing to be Kim's people all our lives. If you ask me who I am again, I will proudly tell you that my last name is Jin. I don't care what happened before. Now, I am a happy member of the Kim family full of human feelings and love. I changed my name and started a happy new life.
I study piano.
After a while, my father asked me:
"Swallow, what do you want to learn?"
I did not hesitate to answer:
"I want to learn piano."
Dad nodded happily and began to find me a teacher and the best piano teacher.
Learning piano is my dream. I feel that this instrument is particularly elegant, and its sound is shocking and soft and intoxicating. I've seen it on TV, and there are some in welfare homes, but I haven't had a chance to learn it. I dream that if I can sit at the piano and play beautiful notes between my fingers, what a pleasant thing it would be!
Finally, I invited a teacher named Bi.
That day, my parents and I braved the cold wind and heavy snow to find Teacher Bi's home. I am very happy. I thought: My wish has finally come true. I can play for others and let many people hear my performance. God, what a scene that would be!
I have been very excited since I set foot in Mr. Bi's house. I have never touched the piano. I can have a professional teacher to teach me today. I think an ordinary person sees a professional with his own eyes, just like seeing a star, not to mention that she can teach me. This seems to be a dream. But in my first class, I met with difficulties. First, I lost my finger. The teacher said, "Relax your arms and relax your wrists. All my strength is concentrated on my fingertips, and then I naturally fall and play on the keys. " Still holding my hand, put my hand on her wrist and feel the feeling of her key falling.
I can't learn anything because I don't have enough culture to understand what the teacher said. I can't push too hard or too little. Hi! I didn't expect the piano in my dream to be so difficult to learn.
After a class, I learned nothing and went home depressed.
Practicing "broken fingers" on the piano every day is as bad as nailing a nail on a board with a hammer. Sometimes I will be very angry with myself, even like a madman, knocking on the keys, wishing to lift the piano and smash it hard! If someone talks to me at this time, it will be "unfortunate". I am very annoyed, and I often quarrel with others because of this, which leads others to gradually alienate me. My mother saw my mood and patiently told me, if everyone is living well, what else can I learn? Ask any piano learner. Everyone is a pianist. So what do you need to do and work hard at the Conservatory of Music? I understand what she said. But the most important thing now is not just to be reasonable, but how to control your emotions and not let them control you. This is an extremely terrible challenge! After a long training, I finally made progress. But the rhythm is also a problem. The beat is always inaccurate, either one beat more or half a beat less, and it will never be possible. During that time, my father beat me almost every day, so that I could be praised by the teacher in class. Sometimes my father is too busy to help and is criticized by the teacher in class. When I got home, I didn't say a word, hiding aside and secretly shedding tears. I gnashed my teeth and scolded myself for being so stupid, while scratching my hands, wishing I could chop them off! I often have the idea of giving up. Every time I sit in front of the piano, I practice in tears. I really want to have the courage to say that I don't want to learn, but I dare not. How sad my parents will be if I say so. I spend money to study every month. My mother suffers from rheumatism and often goes to class with me in pain. My father gave up his rest time to send me there. How can I ... every time I want to say this, their tired figures appear in front of me, as if telling me that this is the only way to learn to overcome all kinds of difficulties in life and to improve my own quality.
I don't know how many people worked hard to get my grades. If you give up at the beginning and learn other knowledge later, you may give up halfway. I understand the truth that plum blossoms are not frozen. Maybe this is life.
Looking back, I didn't come alone. I deeply appreciate the greatness of love! (To be continued)