The Purse

As far as I can remember my mother did not have a real purse, she always wrapped the money in a handkerchief and carried it in her arms. The money inside did not look like much, but when we needed it, my mother would not hesitate to open it.

　　Although my old home had little arable land, the mountains were rich in resources. The inexhaustible firewood, the yellow wattle strips that could be cut everywhere, the silk thatch grass at the corners of the fields, the cranberry, orchid, and the summer crocus that could be dug all year round, were the main sources of income for my family.

　　Autumn wind blew, the front and back of the mountain oak leaves began to slowly turn yellow, only a few old pine trees interspersed in the oak forest and a few pieces of palm trees at the foot of the mountain still green, at this time the Huangjiawan like a fine painting. After a night of north wind, the yellow leaves on the oak trees have fallen. In the early morning, when we were still curled up in the blanket and refused to get up, dong! Dang! The crisp sound of logging broke the silence of the bay. Grandpa had already started to cut trees on our family's hill (which was divided for the community members to burn their own fire). Although it was our own hill, my family could only cut about twenty trees each year. Mother took us to drag a thick oak tree out of the woods, carry it home, and saw it into a cylinder of about fifty centimeters. Grandfather would use an axe to split them one by one, stacked under the eaves of the house, waiting for the natural cooling dry can be picked to the market town to sell.

　　In 1976, I moved to Wangdian, a town eight miles away, to attend high school. Whenever my mother went to town to sell firewood, rice straw and yellow wattle, she would let me carry some on my back. I remember one day, my mother got up very early and used a bamboo basket (shaped like a handpan) to load more than twenty pieces of oak firewood. She also used the rattan to bale me six or seven pieces and let me carry it on my shoulder. Just after dawn, the two of us set out, the mountain road is unusually quiet, our footsteps woke up the sleeping birds, poof! Pfft! Two turtledoves flew off into the distance in fear.

　　Mother walked ahead with a hundred or so pounds of oak firewood, and with each step, the stretcher would make a slight squeak! Squeak! Ground rattling; every distance will be walking on the side of the stretcher force up slightly higher, slightly turn the body, instantly complete the action of changing shoulders. From time to time, she used a towel to wipe the bean sweat from her face. Over a hillock, we would stop to rest for a moment. At this point I would clearly hear my mother's short, muffled haaah! Haah! The sound of panting. Her cheeks were red and her face was covered with sweat, but she tried to keep smiling and talking to me. At this point, I found that my mother looked more and more beautiful.

　　Each piece of oak wood has a very hard contour, I had to find a piece of bark smooth oak wood to stick on the shoulder, so as not to wear the shoulder. I did not say a word, bent over, carrying firewood bale, following my mother. When I approached the market town, there was a gentle slope of two miles. By this time I was already struggling a lot, and the bale kept switching between my two shoulders, my body was already bent very low, and the bale gradually moved down to my back. I saw my toes moving forward in shifts. My mother stopped, took two pieces of firewood out of my bale, and stuffed them into her own load. When I picked up the bale again, I felt much more relaxed. I saw her wiping sweat and trying not to blur her eyes with sweat.

　　My family's oak firewood is good quality, this day a total of $ 15 cents, the two are very happy. My mother gave me 10 cents, I turned around and bought two freshly cooked fragrant doughnuts, eating them as I walked toward school. My mother did not buy anything, folded the money neatly, then wrapped it in a blue handkerchief, put it in her arms, and picked the bamboo basket and returned the way she came.

　　When I was in my first year of middle school, I didn't eat lunch at school. After lunch, I had to run all the way over two hillocks, and after I got home, I took out the still-warm sweet potato rice or pumpkin rice from the stove. About five minutes to finish the meal, and then run towards school again. A round trip is sixteen miles. When it was raining or the teacher was delayed, I had to wait until I got home in the evening to have "lunch".

　　One day my mother gave me two yuan, I think she didn't have any change so she gave me so much to go to the restaurant in the market town for lunch that day. I was so happy to carry this green treasure, after school at noon, directly to the town restaurant, with 40 cents to buy a bowl of steamed pork, 10 cents to buy a bowl of rice, a beautiful meal. I carried the remaining one fifty cents into the next door to the supply and marketing agency. I looked left and right and suddenly found a black leather wallet at the counter, which felt very soft when I touched it with my hand and opened it to put the whole money in. Without hesitation, I bought it for 80 cents and put the remaining 70 cents (50 cents and 10 cents) into the wallet.

　　In the afternoon class and on the way home, I kept my hand on the outside of my pants purse and stroked my beloved wallet through my clothes. When I got home, my mother asked me where I got the wallet. I said I bought it with the money left over from dinner. My mother was furious and abruptly took out a bamboo stick from the corner and gave me a few hard blows on the buttocks. I didn't cry, I bought the goods, what's wrong with me! My mother seemed to see my defiance and asked angrily: How much money do you have? Do you need a purse for it? It dawned on me! Money turned out to be something not to be spent indiscriminately.

　　My mother's knock was engraved in my bones. I never used a wallet again for more than forty years, although some friends once gave me 1 or 2, and they were just passing through.