A home with one room The outside of
the window is the world, and the inside of the window is the home. Our home has only one room. Our room has two walls. The first is a plank wall with a layer of light red flower paper mounted on it, which was specially arranged for our bridal chamber wedding night. Although this layer of wallpaper has faded, it once reflected the golden light of anthurium candles, making the room warmer than it was in the days of celibacy. The second wall is a circular array of furniture: beds, hangers, sewing machines, tea tables, wicker chairs, cabinets, and desks. In the center of the room is our square, two feet square. We can’t always stand or sit at home every day, we have to walk, and when we walk, we only rely on this two-foot-square square.
After get off work, we walked back from the street, we walked through one building after another, then took the key, unlocked it, and opened the door to see, every time we felt that our home was so small! We stood in the middle of the square, looking at each other, the square was already full.
We have taken great pains in furnishing this room, and treated it as if it were an orphan, and since it is so wretched in this world, all its defects must be made up for by a little of our zeal. We put a layer of green paint on the window panes, stuck white window paper on the window panes, bought a lot of picture frames, and hung a few brightly colored Life magazine illustrations. We nailed a brand new ceiling to it for over three hundred bucks. In short, we did our best, our money, and our hearts to dress it up. We are like parents in poor families, who wholeheartedly give their children all the love they can because they cannot provide their children with the clothes and joys they should have in childhood!
Side by side we looked around the gleaming little room, and thought it was overdressed, but worthy of love. There is only such a room, so please love it as much as you can, and doting is no longer too much.
On the wedding night, we heard neighbors cooking, two tricycles fighting for the way in the alley, and colleagues in the dormitory talking about movies, banquets, poker games and life. We smiled bleakly, knowing that the house is too small and the environment is too noisy, and we will never get the warmth and tranquility of our dream home, but we have no resentment. Even though it was just a small tissue box, the two of us were finally together.
We wanted to cook, so we built a smaller kitchen next to the fence of the public dormitory, like a small roadside stall selling wontons. We cook over there and bring it to the bedroom to eat, thus solving the problems of life. When we have money, we buy two sausages, char siu for a few dollars, heat them up on a kerosene stove, and then put them on the desk to chew. We find the peace that only the two of us can feel in the noise, and our ears have learned to close the door.
On a rainy day, when she went to the kitchen, I felt like sending her off on a long trip. I opened the window and could see her rushing into the kitchen in the rain, where she was cooking by herself with a fire. The rain dripped down the window grilles and my vision was blurred. I want to go to accompany her, but the kitchen is too small for me to go in and chop vegetables. I was writing in the house, waiting and waiting, waiting for her to come back to our house in the rain with the dishes. Her clothes were wet, and there were raindrops on her face. Someday, we’ll have a house that feels like home, and she won’t be left in the rain. This day may be far away, but when I saw her wiping the raindrops off her face and still smiling, I had the patience to wait for that day.
Our room was next to the main entrance of the dormitory, the public toilet was separated by the board wall, and the corridor for others was under the window. We are often awakened by the sound of heavy doors at night, and sometimes we cannot close our eyes because of the frequent footsteps above our heads, but when we think of our vows: we will not be discouraged even if we live a life of poverty. So we held hands together so that none of us could utter a sigh.
What I am most grateful for is that our friends have not forgotten us and often visit this small room. Although they can only sit in a rattan chair against the wall, they all have respect for our family. Friends are happy that we have built a home, no one cares about the size of the house it is built in. Leave friends outside the door while we change. When one of us took a nap, we invited a friend to sit in the kitchen. But we also invite friends to spend the weekend, and although the square table blocks our chests in the small room when we eat, as crowded as four ducks stewed in a small pot, we still refuse to let the happiness slip away from us.
We saw the lights of thousands of houses at night, and saw the bright windows one by one. We liken it to the stars on the ground. We know that our one-room home has lights at night, and our windows shine, one among the stars. This is a great encouragement to us!
Since we are not separated from the flow of life, we are satisfied. Since we can’t have a house that feels like home, let’s love this one-room home with all our hearts and souls!
The rain in February and March caused small white bacteria to grow on the corners of my house, the suitcase was moldy, water accumulated on the ceiling, and the ground was covered with a layer of muddy footprints from the friendship of visitors. There are a few temporary ponds on the second section of West Heping Road. Cars pass by with the sound of splashing water. Wet clothes are like rows of old people standing with their hands down, hiding under the eaves for refuge. The running water is unimpeded, because the water given by God is already too much. Drenched passers-by, like fish, swam past the fence in a serious and silent manner.
This is the rainy season in Taipei, the day of the year that lacks the most laughter, but our child was born on such a day. She had spent fifteen full days on this wet earth. Her small black and crystal eyes have never seen the bright sun or the bright moon. Will she feel that this world is not beautiful?
I recalled that day, sitting alone in the dark alley outside the delivery room of National Taiwan University Hospital, my ears were so sensitive that I could hear my own heartbeat. I saw the husbands sitting on the benches waiting for the news of the boys and girls, and I thought they were optimistic and strong. They don’t need to share the labor pains of their wives, they enjoy this God-given blessing to men, and they are also picky, hoping that girls will be born in other people’s homes. Compared with them, I am pessimistic and weak. Although the beautiful nurse persuaded me to leave the bench that had occupied me all day and go out to have a dinner, I came in a hurry and seemed to have paid for a stomach full of dry old newspapers. I was praying, secretly crossing myself. I thought of Eve putting the fruit of wisdom into Adam’s mouth, and how God cursed the woman who loved her husband more than she feared God: “I will increase your pain in conception, and you will give birth to children with pain!” I am so scared.
So, I thought about how we tried to hide from some friends who had been with us for many years when we were in love, and secretly arranged every date. I thought again of the quiet days after marriage, when I was writing a manuscript, she gently handed me a cup of hot tea from behind, and generously gave me a cigarette she hated the most. I think of my frown and the tears on her face when we quarreled. I think of the days when we laughed, opened a can of pineapple on the desk, and wiped the table with manuscript paper. She was a part of my life and I was a part of hers, but the delivery room door separated us.
I heard many howls of pain in the delivery room, and I took every cry of heartbreak as hers. Every cry of a newborn baby, I hope it is a signal that she is out of pain. I was alone on the bench, and I waited in horror. Finally, the nurse rolled a gurney and passed me. She lay peacefully on the bed smiling, and told me: “It’s a woman, aren’t you angry?” I turned my face away, and tears welled up.
This is how our children came into the world. She has her mother’s round face and mine is thin, but in our hearts, she is already beautiful, and we dare not ask for more. We brought her from the hospital to our home, a small damp and cramped room, amidst the sound of rain. This little third person seems to have been loved by her parents since she was born. When she sleeps sweetly with her little lips pouted, when she opens her dark eyes and stares at the light, when we find a small mole on her face When… that kind of warmth of life!
But she also brings us real life problems. There seemed to be a small printing press in her little quilt, printing out one after another light yellow and dark yellow moist and mild diapers. Let’s take one by one and throw it into the washbasin. Therefore, Ah Chuan frowned, Ah Chuan’s arm was sore, and Ah Chuan lost his temper. Her printing press overwhelmed our temporary servant.
Our bedroom started to rattle with hammers and the wire went up, one, two, three, four, five, six. Her diapers are like military flags in the rain, hanging all over the room with great momentum. We walk hunched over under diapers. The neighbor’s little girl came to visit her new sister, and when she looked up and saw the ecstasy circle in the sky, she was so happy that she forgot the purpose of coming to my house. The airspace of the desk is also given up. As a short-sighted writer like me, I often put a punctuation point on the water, which is the problem of the diaper on the head.
Everything is changing, and changing so fast. Our old enjoyment of life as a civil servant with two cars going out and two cars coming home has been destroyed, but we have been compensated in another way. We can pinch the baby’s little hands, like greeting a fairy in a fairy tale, touch her soft, dark hair, watch her treading water in the bathtub like a little frog, and smell the baby’s exclusive scent on her body. Milky smell. In front of her sweet little face, who wants to remember the old fun of the past?
The little baby snores, gurgling in its small throat. She would burp when she was full, stretch and yawn, and sneeze. The parenting book we kept next to our bed said it was all normal. We enjoy all the sounds she gives us and it makes our room extra warm. We peeked at the expression on her face when she was quiet, and there was nothing sad about it.
She takes up half our bed, but how willing we are to back down. She keeps us awake at night and exhausted during the day. But we feel that this is the happiest pain and the sweetest torture in the world. We hope that we will hold her tightly in our arms forever, day and night!
The cold wind outside the window is bleak, the rain is pattering, the world is so damp and cold, we have been looking forward to the sun bitterly. But now, we forget the world outside the window, because we have our own little sun. The little sun is not afraid of the cover of the clouds in the sky. The little sun shines warmly on our hearts through the rain, through the ecstasy array of diapers, and through the hard shell of the sad soul.
How I would like to say this: our little sun is not a burden in our lives, she is the first and most lovable companion in our life!
For her, the two older sisters are almost equivalent to the “previous generation”. The second sister, who is closer in age to her, is more than 2,190 days older than her. The eldest sister is the “Peng Zu” in her eyes, more than 2,920 days older than her! It is inevitable for Wei Wei to feel lonely.
She often sits alone on the windowsill and plays with the four little “kissing dogs” embedded with magnets, concentrating on it without making a sound. Sometimes when I walked by her, she would look up and smile at me politely: “I’m playing with them.” “Is it fun
?” I’m busy with other things, but I can’t be like ” “Diesel Express” reluctantly stopped at a small station, stopped, and greeted her.
”It’s not fun.” She replied honestly, “Do you have time now?”
”No.” I replied with an air of urgent business.
”Goodbye.” She said, and lowered her head to play with the four “kissing dogs” again, forming a long snake formation facing north and south, and then dismantling it, changing to a long snake formation facing east and west, dismantling it, and arranging it again A north-south long snake formation…
In terms of feelings, my wife and I always think that Ying and Qi are companions who “grew up together” with us. The four of us have experienced various “new situations” in life together. , the emotions are quite warm. This kind of situation formed a kind of mental threat to Weiwei, which made her feel “unable to participate”. Therefore, she learned a truth from childhood: attack is “existence”.
In the United Nations, the representative of a small country has to keep making sharp and harsh remarks, using a lot of “brutal” or “high-sounding” techniques, before the big country “takes him seriously”. Weiwei also has this “aggressive tendency” in order to make people “take her seriously”.
When she was lonely and silent, everyone thought: “How normal she is, how on track, how orderly she is!” Everyone was very “lucky” in their hearts, thinking that Weiwei was a good child—a silent and silent girl. interest, which is equal to a good boy who “does not exist”. Everyone’s expectations of Wei Wei have long been like this: don’t disturb anyone.
But Weiwei is also a “person”, not a low stool or a desk lamp. She also needs care from others. If everyone thinks that not being in contact with her is the most worthwhile relationship, how can she bear it! Of course, she only has attacks.
Often when I was concentrating on writing, she suddenly appeared.
”Give me two pieces of paper!” she said.
”Go with my mother.”
”I don’t want it, I want it from you!” ”
Didn’t you see that I don’t have time?” ”
Give me two pieces of paper!”
”Can you play in the living room?”
”Give it to me Two sheets of paper!”
”What the hell do you want?”
”Give me two sheets of paper!” she said.
I had to open the drawer, and handed her two blank sheets of paper impatiently: “Okay, now go back to your desk and draw.” “I don’t want it,
I want to draw here.” How annoying.
”Okay.” I said, “You draw here. I’ll write on your desk.” ”
I’ll follow you wherever you go,” she said.
”You’re going to piss me off,” I warned her.
”Then you want to play with me!”
”How can I have time to play with you?”
”Then I will draw here with you.” Just
when the relationship between the two generations began to deteriorate, my mother came to rescue. Mom took the “lonely ball” and placed it in the kitchen – just placed it, because my mother was working as a “cooking machine” there. Sure enough, not long after, the “machine” roared: “Why did the fish throw it into the pot before it was cut open? Go away, go away, go away!”
Not long after, the “machine” yelled again: “Don’t take it, it’s tofu. Look, it’s over, isn’t it? A piece of tofu is over!” There was a sound of a chair being pushed back in the compartment, Yingying stood up, and she went to the
kitchen Pick up “Lonely Ball”. She is very like a teacher greeting children: “Weiwei, good boy, come to Yingying, and watch Yingying do her homework here.” Weiwei always calls her eldest sister Yingying, and the eldest sister also calls herself Yingying to her. Sakura made a mistake and placed the “lonely ball” by the desk.
”Yingying! I had a dream last night.”
”Do you know what I dreamed about?”
”I dreamed of a piece of paper.”
While reading the textbook, I kept saying “hey”. From the perspective of learning, I feel a little bit distracted by Yingying. disturbed. Judging from the fact of “not being cared about”, Weiwei was a little angry at Yingying’s “distraction”.
There was an ominous silence in the next room.
”Weiwei!” Yingying slapped the table and cried.
”What’s the matter?” I “responded” as quickly as an anti-theft bell.
”She, she, my large print book is finished!” Yingying replied sadly.
As fast as a police car, I walked into Yingying’s bedroom. On her desk was a small pool of ink. Sakura was in tears. Like the fast gunners in the west, Weiwei looked at me calmly with an air of “it’s purely for self-defense” after making trouble.
There is a custom in the family. I took Weiwei to the living room and asked her to “sit quietly and think about her mistakes”. But recently she has grown disgusted with “sitting in meditation” and thinks it is the biggest insult to her. As soon as I was gone, she roamed about without a second thought. I don’t dare to insist too much, because all her “faults” are actually “father’s faults”.
Sure enough, not long after, she boldly broke into the tiger’s den — the second sister’s room because she couldn’t stay in the three places. If a person is not extremely lonely, he will not play chess with his enemy.
Weiwei was “ruled” by Qiqi not to call Qiqi “Qiqi”. Qiqi has been trying to “recover” for four years because she lost the “youngest” scepter at the age of six. Now there is a “two youngest” situation in the family, one big youngest and one young youngest. The youngest must call the eldest “Second Sister” instead of “Qiqi”.
”Second Sister!” I heard Weiwei say cautiously as if calling “report” at the office door.
”What are you doing?” This was the “advantageous tone” of the second sister.
”I want to come in.” Weiwei said tentatively and cautiously.
”Just come in, I’m not a cat.”
”Little Mouse” ran into the room where the second sister was studying with brisk steps.
”Second sister, let me tell you!” The encouraged “mouse” moved to the side of “cat”, “I dreamed about a piece of paper yesterday.” “It’s not interesting.” “I won’t play with you anymore
”You’d better not play with me.”
”I’m going to tell Dad that you bullied me.”
”Don’t go, stand here for me!”
With the sound of hurried footsteps, Weiwei escaped from the tiger’s den. This is her famous “fleeing away”, which is as famous as her “sitting quietly and thinking about mistakes”.
Weiwei was at an age when she needed companionship the most, and happened to be in the era of large-scale construction at home. All of them were focused on hard work and could not be distracted. For Weiwei, this was really the “ice age” of her childhood. Her “home” is composed of a “father showing the tip of his nose and pen in the pile of books”, a “busy eight-armed mother”, a “Ying Ying who is concentrating on reading a book”, and a “silent “Second Sister Carving a Pen on Paper”, and herself. She works hard to disrupt this situation, so there are small “conflicts” every day.
Maybe she’s right. Because she just came from heaven, she knew that the Garden of Eden where Adam and Eve lived was not as tense as at home.
The same is “stealing”, why did the “first couple” steal the fruit of wisdom? Wouldn’t it be better to steal the “Fruit of Time”? Perhaps what Weiwei is protesting against is this “irretrievable past”.
Fifty Hours of Power Outage Many parts of the city were without power
that day because Typhoon Elsie tore out power lines. Modern people who live in the city know that there is a beauty in power outages. Candlelight replaced tacky electric lights. A family is under candlelight, because its lighting circle is limited, so it is easier to get close together and be very affectionate. When a person has something to leave the lighting radius of the candlelight, the family will see him off into the darkness with the eyes of seeing him off. Hearing the sound of footsteps, everyone couldn’t help raising their heads and opening their eyes, searching in the dark. Suddenly, a bright light flashed in front of my eyes, a face of a loved one, facing the candlelight, came back again. Everyone made room to invite relatives who had “come home” to sit down, and cordially inquired about the situation in the dark world outside the candlelight.
”How are the Seven Sisters?”
”I took the birdcage to the bathroom.” “I
just heard a clatter, what was that?”
”Probably the window pane of the next door was broken.” ”
Except for that piece of tin Besides, what else fell into our yard?”
”Here comes a big cardboard box!”
Everyone laughed peacefully and talked softly. The house becomes the “outside world”, but the real “home” is in the candlelight.
There are always chores at home. To make the bed, the candlelight goes to the bed, and the whole family goes to the bed. Candlelight to the second bed, the family to the second bed. third. fourth.
Wash the dishes, go to the kitchen by candlelight, and the family also goes to the kitchen. The faucet is dripping water, which is a forecast of water stoppage. No waterfalls, no rivers, just drops of water. The next day will be a “dry” day, but no one worries. It is rare to have such a day: Dad holds the candle, mother washes the dishes, and the three children watch.
A family sails in the Black Sea in a lighted boat. Candlelight is beautiful, and candlelight is very warm.
The passengers on the boat disembarked one by one and went to sleep on the “Bed Island”. I, the sailor of the small boat, hold the candle aloft, alone, and return to my deserted island with the empty boat. I jumped into bed, aimed at the candle, poof! The candles were extinguished, and the whole family was in darkness.
The brass drummer kept beating drum ideas on the roof tiles with a fast rhythm. The strong wind coming from far away, like a Shaolin monk who knows qigong, slapped the Christmas red in the yard, and with another palm, the bones of the Christmas red broke.
In the dark, I listened to the “destruction” outside the house, and listened to the great monk in cassock, whirring, walking back and forth.
This is really the most peculiar night, a night that totally does not match my “definition of night”: without that cup of tea, without that pen, without that stack of manuscript paper, without those few books.
I practiced sleeping without reading for the first time. That’s hard. But I am not worried about insomnia, because I have a huge debt to sleep, and if it falls into its hands, it will not let me go. Total darkness is scary, and it makes me sleepless.