"On the evening of November 16, the 13th reading sharing activity of Yiba Reading Club was held as scheduled. Long years, like sand in the hands, are lost silently. As the years go by, do you still remember those past events?

"Many years have passed, and the events that happened in those special times have faded into oblivion, but only the things we experienced with our lives and hearts have slowly settled down in our memories, forming an indelible silhouette. Those dusty and small deceased, many seemingly ordinary past events, like a gust of breeze from the grove, there are episodes and temperature, lessons and sorrow, more is happy."

--from "The Seventies. Memories of a Small Town

The story is extended in the reading of the book "Cousin" by Chen Zhijing, the activity planner of this book club. The author of the book, Ying Jian, is his cousin's uncle. The cousin in the book is his father. This miscellaneous memoir about the small town of Yongkang also evokes many, many memories of the old days .......

--Story 1

When he was young and playful, he was lost in a hutong while chasing and playing with children. The hutongs were like a maze of twists and turns, and he could not get out. As he cried and cried helplessly, an older brother approached him:

"Little friend, what are you crying for?"

"I can't find my way home."

"Where is your home?"

"My home is in - in the Huafeng vegetable market." He couldn't remember the exact address of his home; he only knew that there was a big vegetable farm near his home.

With that, the big brother took him by the hand and led him home. On the way, he was thirsty, big brother bought him a piece of watermelon at the roadside stall, and when he got tired of walking, big brother carried him on his back. When he finally arrived at his own house, which he recognized, he waved goodbye to his big brother. Since then and that kind big brother never see each other. Upstairs, I found that except for a young lady who stayed behind, all the people in my dad's company were out looking for him.

He was lucky that he did not meet a bad person, did not fall into the hands of traffickers, he met a kind brother. He did not remember his face and did not know his last name. But this kind-hearted brother remained in the memory forever. And the seed of goodness was planted in his heart, and when he grew up, he always tried to help people in need as much as possible. How is this not a transmission of love?

--Story 2

When I was a kid, the most unforgettable thing for me was the thrilling "escape from death", when I came home from school at noon after physical education. I grabbed a big hand to play with the heat off the sweater, jacket and follow my sister to walk. When I arrived at the village pond, I wanted to wash my feet and stood on a step in the water, and then I thought there was a step, so I stretched my feet to try it out, and a stumble, I fell into the water. I desperately shouted, but the water was filled with a mouthful of water, and at the moment when I was about to sink, I saw my sister step away, and soon to turn the corner into an alcove, I was anxious and shouted: "Sister - " but opened his mouth, the water was pouring into his mouth again. mouth. I struggled desperately in the water, and suddenly felt a hard piece of something, so I gouged it with all my might, whether it took the strength of a tiger or milk, I do not know, anyway, finally climbed up. I "wow" cried out, still holding a large wet clothes, standing on the ground spitting yellow water, sister heard the cries turned and ran back, next to a number of squatting laundry women said: "ah, I saw the water moving, I thought it was a goose? " I looked back at the water, has been struggling from falling in this side to the far other side, fortunately there is a long laundry strip of stone on this side, it is this piece of stone that grows a large part saved me.

--Story 3

Winter, only one word, will tell all the countless cold and depression, but with most people like that the grass grows and flies in the spring is different from what I like most is the snowy white clean winter.

When you think about it, it's because the cold of winter makes many snakes, insects and ants go into hibernation and no longer run amok; perhaps there are also recent years like the yellow leaves drifting in winter, but extra beautiful red maple ginkgo. But the most root is that I miss the warmth brought by the floating fog in the winter, and the floating fog slowly walking in her - my grandmother.

When I met her, she was not young, her face covered with wrinkles left by the years, thin body, but contains inexhaustible power, that year was the only one spent in the winter around her, but also the only one cold and warm winter, a winter that I miss immensely.

That year, I just returned to Zhejiang and met my grandmother for the first time. I had only heard of her from the dictionary and other people's essays before, but the moment I saw her, I knew that I had a grandmother, and that this was my grandmother.

Even if I couldn't understand Yongkang, so she sat with me and waited for three hours for my uncle to come home to eat, she only said that she should be taught Yongkang, or she would die of hunger, and there was no one to blame.

At that time, the seasons were still very distinctive, winter has the cold winter should have, the elderly are always more frugal, can not afford to use more firewood, gas to burn some hot water to wash their faces. But I know that every morning, the radio hanging at the door of the house always on time, Grandma always leave the warm bed early, go out a jingle of busy work, after a period of time, will ring: Ling, get up, eat and go to school! There was never a day when the voice was delayed. And when I got up in the basin there was always a basin of poured and bubbling wash water, warm, not cold like tap water, but also not hot after being baked by fire, very comfortable.

Several times I asked my grandmother how to make it, but she always refused to say. I was curious, and then one day I inadvertently got up early and walked out of the room without seeing my grandmother, so I walked out of the house towards the outside, looking for a circle, and finally saw a thin figure at the pond at the entrance of the village, picking two buckets of water on a stretcher, walking step by step from the water mist, that day I realized that this is the reason why I wash my face every day without ever freezing. I always think of my mom and dad and the days they were with me, and my grandmother saw it in her eyes, and she was making up for it with her simple words and actions.

Now the deceased has passed away with the wind for many years, and winter is no longer only snow-white and clean and cold, but the warmth in that floating fog is no longer there.

Those unforgettable times, in everyone's narrative, a picture seems to travel through time and space and present in front of you, so vivid, so clear, like yesterday. We all shared happily together, and resonated in the sharing.

--The story of stealing firewood with my companion when I was a child.

--The time when I was a child and my grandmother, the memory of her fondness.

--The ignorance of childhood, those brain-dead stories that make adults laugh and cry.

--Those games that accompanied the happy childhood, "jumping on the bandwagon, kicking the keys, playing marbles, cigarette shells ......

--Those childish dialects and catchy Yongkang mountain songs.

Autumn of falling leaves, the breeze is coming

You may want to stop hurrying

Review the next years of small and medium-sized beautiful

Once the regrets will be dissolved by the autumn breeze

The good things that once were worth remembering for a lifetime

New stories are worth looking forward to

Let's walk and cherish

Time passes, we grow, which also allows us to continue to more profoundly understand the true meaning of life, the meaning of life.