Neglected Nostalgia

The winter in the north is always like this, so cold and lonely and monotonous. For me, it's just that the snot will freeze and the breath will have white smoke. It is no different from the thousands of winters before. I thought this more than once after I was used to seeing northern winters.

"Yawn..." I said in a long voice to represent my dissatisfaction with my boss. What a person, it's the 28th day of the lunar month, and still working overtime, tsk. But he is enjoying the joy of heaven. I don't have any family here anyway, so what's the point? It's better to work. Work makes me happy, heh.

My home is in the south, where the seasons are like spring, there is never a dream of a snowy sky. That's why I was so eager to come to the north despite my family's objections.

The building was dark. I am always the last one to go to the company.

Sucking in my nose, I walk towards the bus stop, and the red light on the street reflects on my cheeks, which are also very red. Neon signs, large and small, herald the arrival of Chinese New Year. I stepped forward with my bag in my hand without looking away.

I looked at the time, the twenty-ninth day of the lunar month. The phone screen went dark abruptly. I wished myself great fortune in the New Year in advance. I don't want to go home.

There are always some homesick poems on various online pages during the New Year period. I came across a poem called "Nostalgia" by Yu Guangzhong. How long has it been since I've read one of his poems? He describes small seemingly insignificant things, yet there is a melancholy beauty to them. At least, he is happy to see the truth in detail and enjoys doing so. He also writes philosophical poems, and he has been my idol since I was a student.

His "Nostalgia" once touched my heart. Such a layered feeling, I appreciate. But more than that, it stems from the unspeakable emotions that this poem brings to me. But that beautiful poetic feeling has never been rekindled after college. I was no different from those who were separated from their hometown. Even the Chinese New Year was like a bachelor's day, all by myself.

How many years has it been since I went back? Five years? Seven years? Or eight years. I don't think I've been back to my hometown since I graduated from college. It seems that the only memories I have of my hometown are the peach plant at the entrance and the small cinnamon dumplings made by my mother. The unattainability of the hometown and the past is exactly what "Nostalgia" is about. I always say I'm busy, but how busy am I? I don't know. The only thing I know seems to be that there is no rest throughout the year, no overtime pay for overtime, and perhaps only rats and cockroaches at home to spend the New Year with me. I wish you all a happy and prosperous family, thank you.

The old hometown seems to be alive again. The weir in front of the house, the ping of the sun-drying wheat, has a sweet smell all year round. My mother didn't like the moisture of the wheat, so she always collected it after it had been exposed to the sun. The hometown is not that far away, right? It's just that I've never thought about being close to my hometown in the past few years. I neglected the fact that there is a large place to stay other than this small corner of the big city. I just don't remember it. In a pair of simple and wearable cloth shoes and a pair of exquisite and cold but stumbling high heels, before I chose may be high heels. Because it has something that I have always longed for. But I didn't think that what fits, what is worth missing, is the best, and I just know the true meaning of nostalgia.

Lost my voice and cried.

I don't know how long later, I picked up the phone: "Mom, I'm coming home this New Year's Eve." It seems like a long time since I also made a special call to my mom to check in or to say I wouldn't be home for the New Year.

The other side choked up.

It's great that I'm not alone this Spring Festival.