City, your nickname is "Lost."

After graduating from college, I settled down in a nice city. But my parents remained in the isolated village surrounded by mountains. My parents are getting older, and I, as the eldest son, am not around, which is a little unreasonable. In order to fulfill filial piety and not affect the work, I reached an agreement with my wife in the fifth year after I joined the work, and decided to take the second old man from his hometown.

After a month of preparation and persuasion, our parents were duly received to the city "home". After the parents moved here, the wife left work early every day, and tried her best to cook the most delicious food for them to eat, and bought the most comfortable cloth to make clothes for the parents. We thought our parents would be happy, but one evening, three months later, my mother handed us her resignation at the dinner table.

That meal made me very embarrassed, to hear the news that the second old will go home, I was going to scoop up a spoonful of rice into my mouth, at that moment, I held the spoon of the hand stopped in the middle of the air, for a long time speechless. To break the silence, the wife asked her mother, "Mom, what did I do wrong?" Is there something you can't take care of? Mother quickly objected, no, no, it is your father, he is old, often lost......

Father? Get lost? Impossible ah, in my impression, my father's memory has always been excellent, the mountain around the water around the mountain can not get around my father, why the city's straight road but let my father make it difficult? Besides, it is not too far from my home to the square where my father wants to do morning exercise.

Seeing my doubts, my father was ashamed. He took a few puffs on his cigarette, then put out the end and gave me this explanation

Indeed, the road in this city is far from the mountain road in my hometown, but I can remember every tree and every stone at every turn. Take the road from our house to the farmland in the back hills. Needless to say, the old house we live in, which your grandfather and I spent a whole month building, has been 40 years; The tall old locust tree behind the house is even older than the old house. When I was a child, I climbed on it and picked birds' eggs. At the foot of the old pagoda tree is a winding mountain road, which leads to the entrance of the village, your uncle Wang's house. Your uncle Wang is my good friend from childhood to childhood, and the first "filter" I smoked was brought by him from outside the mountain. When I was young, I often went fishing there. When your mother was born to you, I once fished a 5-pound silver carp and stewed it in soup. Your mother ate it for three days. Through that forest is a damaged mountain temple, you and a few children in the village naughty childhood, there to play with fire, the mountain temple burned nearly half, later repaired, few people in recent years; The temple has a foot gate, through which one can reach the archway of the mountain pass, which is the place of execution in the past, and many people go up the "road" from there; Opposite the archway is a stone bridge where you loved to wash your feet as a child...

My father's story, so that my wife and I are fascinated, the passage of time, age is doing addition, and my father's memory is not doing subtraction like I do, the hometown of the grass and trees even do not have a clear name, but in the vague concept of the condensation of the father's clear memories, are hidden in the father a story. The mountains are poor and the waters are poor, but my father's thoughts are bright. And I live in the city, although every street has a clear name, every intersection has a bus or several classes can reach, but to my father, all the buildings are so similar, are steel, cement and glass packaging, all the people are the same strange face, all the streets are buzzing with the noise of the city...

No wonder my father wants to return to his hometown. Although his hometown is closed, every tree and grass there is a warm story of his father's growth. No wonder my father got lost, because he was frightened by the city's monotonous buildings and the cold faces that lived in them...

In fact, the lost is not only the father alone?