Swallows, Hometown and Parents

When the tree branches in front of the house sprouted a few buds, the swallows stepped on the rhythm of "the ducks know when the water in the spring river is warm", crossed thousands of mountains and rivers, swept past countless city skyscrapers, and couldn't wait to return to the hometown of their souls, where the flowers bloomed and played by the river, carefree to wash the dust of the journey back south and regain the feeling of returning to their hometown. The feeling of safety and comfort.

Afterwards, the swallows, with the many expectations of spring and the love of their partners, flap their tireless wings and travel through the courtyard and the wilderness, using the moist spring mud by the lotus pond, the branches scattered in the wind and the faded feathers of the chickens and ducks to repair their love nests built on the beams of "ordinary people's houses".

When the renovation of the nest is completed, the happy married life begins. From then on, the swallow couple will fly together and stay together for a long time. In the daytime, with simple dreams in the sun, flying in the clear sky, or swooping in the drizzle; tired, landing on the telephone line for a short rest, patting the mud and grass leaves with their mouths, or the couple gently snuggled together, warmly whispering, or let go of their singing voice chirping, expressing their good wishes for life and love. At night, they lie carefree in their nest and enjoy the joy of married life.

Once the baby swallows are born, the couple goes out to search for food more frequently, while the smart little one quietly lies in the nest, waiting for its parents to return from the harvest. Then, they look at them lovingly and fly happily to the field.

When the baby swallows' feathers are full and their wings are hardened, the swallow couple starts to train the children in flight and survival skills. At first, the swallows followed their parents in the nest and practiced in situ, but gradually the couple took the children out of the nest and tried to fly in front of and behind the houses of the farmers. When they stopped, the swallows chattered and taught their children how to forage for food, how to fly over the mountains and how to avoid hunters or bird-eating raptors, and within a few days, the little swallows left their parents to go on their own.

Watching the swallows family kissing and beautiful scene, the busy mother, often excited, can not help but busy housework, while excited to tell me the story of her newlyweds.

The second year after my parents' marriage, my great-uncle mobilized them to move from Sanxian Lake to the more fertile land and more convenient life in Ha Chai City to start their own business. In the winter of that year, my father worked at sunrise and worked tirelessly to bring soil from the rice fields to stack the foundation of the house, while my mother moved her three inch feet and worked early and late to manage the household chores. At night, a bowl of sesame bean tea, a few slices of pepper and radish, and a couple's love story, the red days were passed with fire.

As the pond pit slowly expanded and the foundation of the house gradually grew taller, the young couple smiled and were happy, and the lively and lovely eldest son was busy running and jumping around, making them feel happy in their labor and speed up the rhythm of labor in happiness.

When I bounced into the world, the country had just passed the "three years of hardship" period, and life was still very difficult for the farming families. When my mother heard the sound of my hungry screams, motherly love will burn in her heart, so she self-harm like twisting the tits or nipples to let me taste a little milk, after, tearfully feed some thin porridge or rice soup to feed me, or occasionally carry me to the neighbor's house to beg for some milk to drink, so that I grew up with difficulty and tenacity under the care of motherly love.

My father, who spent his whole life with the farm, was like the windy male swallow, plowing the fields, planting rice seedlings, cutting rice, flying in and out, filling the children's fast-moving stomachs with hard work; my mother never stopped looking, raising children, doing laundry and growing vegetables. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I must have been accompanied by my parents' figures. Under the soft light, my mother with her thimble or sewing or making shoes, using her hands to clothe us in fluffy clothes; my father tying brooms or working on bamboo gabions. They used their fading bodies to forge our souls that aspired to fly in the sky.

In those days, life in the countryside was as uneventful as water, but my parents made the poor days tasty. During the day, they came and went in the wind and rain, and in the evening, the family sat around the dinner table or fireplace and laughed and shared family time. The father may tell his story in a colorful way, telling the descendants the history of a large family's continuity, development and glory; and the mother? She was most interested in stories such as "cutting off shares for relatives" and "seeking fish on ice", and the family felt the joy of family life in poverty.

In the season of green and yellow, we had to live on green vegetables and broad beans, and the burnt potpourri, with a few bowls of tea, was processed into a thin porridge, which was a rare delicacy for the family. However, my mother often gave items she could not afford to eat or use to her neighbors who had more difficulties than us. Even if there were only a few liters of rice left in the house, my mother would take some to give to people who were asking for food ...... In my parents' care for others and sympathy for strangers, we were implicitly trained to be filial, good and thrifty people.

I have left my hometown to work in Guangdong for more than thirty years. I often quietly return to my hometown on the shores of Dongting Lake in my dreams to see the swallows flying freely in the blue sky, or if I feast in the stream in front of my door, flying with the bees and butterflies, dancing with the egrets ...... When I wake up, the homesickness that haunts me comes like a tidal wave, the fragments of swallows, hometown and parents The first time I saw it was in front of my eyes. Alas! When I was a child, I couldn't understand what power could make the frail swallows return to their hometown from the far south despite the hardships and dangers. Today, after more than 30 years of wandering in the south, I finally found the answer: it was a strong feeling of "home"!