The old man outside the window

The wind was blowing tight after all, the dry dust on the loess slopes was flying in the sky, and the dust was puffing up in bursts of smoke and dust, hitting the car windows.

A ribbon-like road hung down from the cliff, curving left and right.

The curtain of the gray cottage seemed to have been lifted by the wind, and the old man fumbled with the door frame, shaking and moving to the door.

The old man had been pressed by the mountain outside the door all his life, so much so that when he sat on the low stool, the stool would creak and groan. The sorghum field, which had been harvested long ago, was like the gray sky lacking blood. As the wind blew, the yellow soil pounded against the sorghum poles stuck in the ground. In the distance are the silent and motionless mountains, the trees are too few, and the green looks restless. The bus was the only one on the road where people were scarce. The car traveled very slowly, I saw him from afar.

In the northwest, in the loess slopes, widows and orphans are extremely common. The young people will naturally go out of the mountains for development, leaving the small villages far behind. Those abandoned small villages, fireworks as usual hot, the village of those old people, love to spend the day chattering rotten grain, scolding, laughing and scolding also comfortable, or quarrel, but also in the sleeve of the real taste of human waving.

Such a picture, with the late twilight, but will let people have some "paradise" illusion. No need for more people, even if there is only an old couple sitting on the threshold, even if they do not speak to each other, but also the pulse of time, loving and warm.

Only this kind of lonely gray shadow, this kind of bleak picture, only often recorded, a moment to inspire the compassion of the next person.

Some people will laugh it off, some will whisper contempt, some will point fingers at the air, and some will call for social care.

Perhaps I should say a few thousand words of compassion for him and reprimand his children who do not know how to return home in tens of thousands of words, but the old man simply does not care. He lives in this cramped ravine, and his broken house is not even connected to the Internet, so even though he has long been a corner of photography works, being exhibited for people's attention, he does not know and does not care.

He has his own concerns, right? The old man's face was deepening with wrinkles as he gazed at the mountains, at the endless stretches of fields and the direction guided by the clouds that gradually swam away. Suddenly, the long, messy eyebrows blurred and white smoke squeezed out of his lips, which were as deep as his skin, and wrapped around the top of his head. His cloudy eyes sunk deep in their sockets, abruptly, the corners of the eyes curved, out of the corner of the mouth grin, shoulders shrugged slightly.

It was something happy that lit up the long-echoing ripples. His face is covered with an indefinable light, as if the next moment, will be from the smoke yellow teeth popped out of the words of memory: "My family that brat ah -"

Then, the memories of the elderly who were served in full service in the nursing home detailed with their children leaked out of the brocade as much as they could. Although they are not worried at all, and there are people to chat with, they still love to mention their children once in three or five sentences, first complaining, and then having to say something nice, portraying the treasures in their eyes, to the best of their ability.

Even if they don't have to worry about the family situation like the father in "Steps", they won't stop worrying about their children. While complaining about them flying around, while urging them to fly high and far.

Many people spit out daily, the first day home for the New Year, the table full of good food; the next day, gradually home; a week later, the parents began to left dislike right dislike, as if to sweep the children out the door.

In fact, this is all just a tough mouth.

This roadside old man stay in the middle of nowhere, if you want, can stand on the moral high ground to yell at their children unfilial, see his look, must be a car horn, people began to busy, called the sorghum field sorghum, are looking at his home unprecedented lively, enviously rubbing leaves, whispering.

The bar between the car windows a partition, the roadside elderly erased from my sight. I craned my neck and struggled to look back, the old man walked into the ground and tried his best to brace himself, and looked up again in the distance.

I had a sneak peek at my parents, usually so strict and harsh, when I went to college, will not be because I have been away from home for a long time, not for my youthful rebellion annoyed.

When I learned that parents have an amazing ability to adapt as if they were unified across the country, I think it was me who had to change my mind - for a few days and a half, they could raise their children as if they had never left home, and they couldn't wait for their children to bother them, and if they couldn't, they picked a fight.

To put it bluntly, it's just to make up for the time when you didn't see your child and said less.

The parents have a small emptiness in their hearts that is too deep to see the bottom, because the mouth is too small, how material can not be stuffed into it. The person to the front of the station, they fill their own full fill Yanba.

The subtleties of the true feelings, the true feelings see the connection. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows of neon buildings always reflect a pair of eyes from afar, full of eyes, only the people lying in front of the computer, old hands curled up, across the dream world, can also give that person cover layer quilt, across the phone, half-heartedly listen to the children say that they do not lack anything.

The actual fact is that you will be able to get a lot more than just a few of these.

I have no way of knowing what my parents will be watching for in the future, and I have no way of knowing if I will show half a point of softness in front of my parents in the future in the face of pressure. I understand the reasoning, the so-called "parents are not far away" also said the parents buried the most love in the bottom of the heart, unwilling to say the wish. But I knew that my goal was to fly farther and farther like a kite, a harrier eagle, to the colorful and dazzling - as long as I remembered what each other needed most, then I could make up my mind to fly to a bigger world, like many others of my age.

My parents also supported me to fight and encourage me to fly high, not even caring if my kite would rip the string off.

Of course, the string of the kite cannot be torn off.

Since the kite string travels through space and time, it is only logical that the empty mind of the old man on the roadside will be filled with the fragments of the past and the expectations of today, and continue his silent laughter.

He waited persistently, because the next second, the broken house will be overflowing with popular children.