Go home

Author:Cui Yan

The moment I woke up in the dormitory on September 1st, I looked at the mosquito net and the snow-white ceiling in front of me, and I couldn't understand where I was.

After washing properly, I received a call from my parents, saying that they had packed up and were ready to go back.

"Would you like to see you again?" I heard them ask.

Okay, you can stay with me for one more day. Even if I have bought everything, it would still be nice if we just chatted and spent the day.

"No, you guys should go back quickly. We all have work to do. What do I have to worry about here?" I heard myself reply.

Duplicity.

The next month I had my first formal military training in my life. "First time" is a magical word. Everything that seems unreasonable seems to become reasonable just by adding the word "first time". So because of the reason that "it was my first military training, I was very curious, excited and happy about everything", I was able to maintain a kind of joy that was a bit unbeatable when everyone was complaining.

A classmate asked me: "Don't you miss home?"

I let out a few long sighs to express my indifference, and said, "What's the difference? Normally my family is so busy, and we only see each other for a short while for dinner in the morning, noon and evening, isn't it the same as making a phone call now?"

But when I called my parents that night, my first sentence was: "I said, what have you been busy with all day? Other parents talk to their children on the phone every night. As for me, why is no one answering every time I call..."

After returning to Hongyuan after the military training, I washed myself and threw it on the bed. I rolled hard on the not-wide bed and sighed with satisfaction.

The roommate said: "It's over. This child is so satisfied just lying down on the bed in the dormitory. If we let her lie down on the bed at home, wouldn't she be moved to tears?"

The bed at home.

When I say this, I will think of the many pleasant naps I spent in bed at home this summer. Sometimes, while half asleep and half awake, I vaguely see the wind blowing the curtains slightly, and the golden sunlight leaks in through the cracks in the curtains, reflecting mottled and blurred light and shadow on the wall. So he fell asleep peacefully again, with the faint sound of the wind chimes in front of the window ringing in his ears.

Now that I think about it, that scene has a bit of a "hook curtain light drunken sleep" flavor.

The night before going home during the National Day holiday, I packed my things until two o'clock in the night, slept randomly for a few hours, then got up and got on the car home.

And because of all the troubles the night before, I slept so deeply in the car that when I opened my eyes again, I had arrived in the city I was familiar with.

Suddenly, I felt a little bit at a loss as to what to do.

I found that during the month in Hongyuan, I didn’t miss home much. But now, looking at the increasingly familiar streets outside the car window, I suddenly thought of home, like a cassette player that finally started running again.

I think of the way the branches and leaves of the tree in front of the study window at home crush the sunlight into a ball of soft light. I think of the way the wind makes the hanging white flowers of the spider plant in the living room sway. I think of the way the white flowers hanging down from the spider plant in the living room swayed. I think of the way the white flowers drifted in from the kitchen window when I came home from evening self-study in high w88 casino. The warm yellow light in the night; I think of my beloved puppets, the smell of washing powder on the clothes on the balcony, and the sound of the range hood in the kitchen; I think of the songs my father hums in the corridor before coming home every day, the faces my mother makes at me, and the aroma of the food on the dining table.

Dad was still at work, so he sent a text message asking: "Where are you? Your mother is at home."

I watched the car stop slowly and laughed a few times in my heart. I pressed my finger on the phone urgently and said: "At the door of my home." Then I opened the car door and jumped out quickly. I hurriedly said goodbye to the uncle who had brought me back, grabbed my luggage and ran away.

When I arrived at the door of my house, my suitcase clearly contained the keys to my home, but I insisted on opening the door, making a series of messy banging sounds.

I vaguely heard the sound of people running towards the door. Then, the door opened.

"I'm back."

That night, I was dragged out by my parents for a walk with them. As we walked, we reached the community where I lived when I was a child. In the unit building where the original home was located, most of the old neighbors have been scattered. Now, standing downstairs and looking up, I can only see sporadic lights, with a somewhat thin atmosphere. The carport with red brick walls in front of the building looked particularly weathered under the dim yellow street lights, and the few sycamore trees had covered the sky.

On a whim, I rushed into the unit building and ran to the door of my original home in three steps and two steps at a time. But what was waiting for me was an unfamiliar security door. Looking at it, I suddenly understood that even though I grew up here, this is no longer my home.

Suddenly I remembered a passage in "The Little Prince", which probably goes something like this: "Originally, stars are stars, and they are no different to you. But when I go back, I will smile at you from the stars, and then you will have unique, smiling stars all over the sky."

In fact, what is special is not the place, but the people.

It's like there is a place you call home, not because of the house number, that house, or the corridor, but because there are people you know well there.

When you return to this place called home, the key may be quietly lying in your pocket, but you suddenly become willful and stubbornly refuse to open your pocket to find it. Instead, you reach out your hand hurriedly and slam the door loudly.

Because you know that there will always be someone from the inside who will open the door for you.