In the late 1980s, there was a time when my mother called me to get up and run at 6 am every morning. Mother took her porridge, porridge in a thermos, and my schoolbag. She was riding a bicycle, and I ran alongside.
My family lives in the southernmost part of the city, and the school is in the northernmost part of the city. We ran the longest road in the city. Near the school, we found a place to eat the breakfast she brought, and then I went to school and she went to work.
Sometimes I was awakened forcibly, angry, and ran away. She rode angrily in the front, and I followed angrily in the back. Sometimes I claim that I do n’t have breakfast anymore, this poke her weakness. When she opened the lunch box, her sullen face had disappeared, changing to the expression of hope or even pleading that she didn’t even notice.
What was the specific breakfast my mom made, I forgot. Based on her knowledge of her cooking level, it must be highly nutritious but has a poor taste.
For example, for a while, she heard that drinking fish head soup would help her intellectual development, so she stewed fish head every day for me. She heard that adding salt was not good, so she added milk and sugar very creatively. That sweet fish head milk made my brain almost stop developing.
The practice of running every morning and bringing your own breakfast is just one of the mother’s countless ideas. The daily life of the mother is full of impromptu programs. Her romances are original and come in handy, both grassroots and atmospheric.
When Coca-Cola first appeared in a small town in her hometown, one night she finished housework and recruited me with an expression of “Follow me, there is something good”.
We first bought two bottles of Coca-Cola in a small shop, and then came to Hu Rongquan night market. This is the most concentrated place for supper in the city. Most people crouched on the ground to do business, with kerosene lamps lit next to them.
Mother somehow bought a piece of dried squid and baked it with a kerosene lamp in a shop she knew well. Soon, the squid rolled up, emitting a tantalizing aroma.
The smell of squid, with an incomparable penetrating power of pig, cow and lamb, stands out among the fragrant aromas of various foods in the night market.
Only then did I know why my mother bought Coca-Cola. Under her guidance, I tore off a small piece of grilled squid, chewed slowly, and then drank a large sip of Coca-Cola.
For the first time in my life, I drank this romantic beverage. The hot bubbles choked me and hiccuped, and the hiccups also had the strong smell of roasted squid.
I was so enjoyable and embarrassed by this magical experience. The mother looked at me with a smile on her side, as if I were a man who first tasted hard liquor and showed an amazing amount of wine.
After many years, the willful combination and bold experimentation of various ingredients is still an important fun in the home life of me and children. That is one of the good things my mother left me. Grassroots romance, unbridled imagination and action, and no sense of everyday humor. Until she was seriously ill, shortly before her death, what remained in my memory was her unique humor.
Once in the ward, I was reading a picture book called “China’s 100 Confucian Scholars”. She was going to go over it for a long time. Finally, she threw away the book, closed her eyes contemptuously, and said, “Why aren’t you there?”
To be honest, I do n’t have much to remember, and my childhood was very mediocre. The chaotic and ignorant small self can neither remember the plot nor perceive any story.
However, at a certain moment, when I took my child and created an impromptu show in daily life-as my mother once created for me-I realized that there was something in my mind that she was in the world Not many things left.