the most beautiful time

Chapter 54

Always out of season.

For example, in a lively crowd, I feel lonely and want to hold someone's hand, let him lead me, and rush out of the carnival of the crowd that scares me.It's like holding an umbrella under the bright sun, but suddenly wishing that what hit the umbrella heavily was not the dry sunshine in the north, but a torrential rain.For example, I am on the street with endless streams, but my thoughts drift to the distant village where my childhood is stored.

For another example, in the cold weather with no snowflakes at the moment, I suddenly miss a certain winter day when the snowflakes are flying all over the sky.

It has been a long time since I have returned to the countryside where I have lived for more than 20 years.Every winter when the weather is the coldest, I sometimes work on duty and cannot buy a ticket to go home. Sometimes I simply take my parents to the provincial capital to live in a high-rise building with heating, like a hibernating animal, avoiding a long winter.

At that time, I always stood in front of the window, looking at the world of cars passing by through the gray glass.I remember when I was a child, I often stood in front of the window like this.It's just that there seemed to be a layer of beautiful icy flowers on the window panes at that time.They are pure white and crystal clear, just like the crystals in fairy tales that can radiate charming colors.Sometimes I would secretly open the window, and in the howling cold wind, with my cold little hands, I would pick off one of them and put it in my mouth.They always melt away on the tip of my tongue without waiting for me to savor them carefully.But I can taste the sweet sadness of snowflakes from such an instant Qingling taste.

Winter in the countryside is quiet and distant.The bell of the nearby primary school often travels far in such a cold season.Without the hindrance of the flourishing plants in summer, the sound of impact sounds like it came from a distant era.This voice has removed all dust and impurities, pure and indifferent, like an old man who has seen through the vicissitudes of life.And I, stepping on such a bell every day, rush to school from my home more than ten meters away.

If it snows, I'll look forward to school being closed so I can enjoy the campus to my heart's content.I like to smash snow balls one after another onto the bell hanging on the tree trunk, and then enjoy the joy of the snow balls splashing away in the blunt sound of it.I will also form a snowman behind a certain luxuriant holly tree that belongs only to me. I use two coal stones to make the snowman’s black eyes, and use a radish stolen from home as its nose, and hide me in my sleeve The two dumplings in the bag are used as its ears, and I will take off my red scarf and tie it around its simple and honest neck, and then put my schoolbag full of treasures on it across the body.

I always finish my snowman friend on the snow with the moon.Yes, I regard it as a close friend of my soul, so I am willing to give it my schoolbag to wear.It is always so moving, and soaks my calico schoolbag with flowing tears, every time it is my mother, reprimanding me, while baking my schoolbag and books by the stove.And I often fell asleep in her gentle nagging.Of course there will be dreams. In the dream, my snowman and I dance happily in the swirling snowflakes and on the vast land.But before I could stop, it was taken away by a ray of winter sunshine.I was crying and running, trying to find it, but my mother stopped me and roared at me: I'm still sleeping late, it's time to go to school!
My red scarf, just like that, was taken away by one snowman after another.When I put it away, my childhood dream will be over.The child who can be late, cut classes and soak books seems to be just a dream, and lost her snowman and pure childhood.

Now in the winter in the city, what I hear is not the shouts of children cheering and building snowmen, nor the crying of snowmen melting in the sun, or the crisp sound of ice skates breaking from the eaves, but the noise of cars and horses, or People are complaining endlessly in the crowded streets.I had to shut myself in a well-heated room and imagine snowflakes flying in the wilderness through the window surrounded by a strong fence.

Then one day, when I was taking my little nephew to the Children's Palace, snowflakes suddenly fell on the way.He pressed the tip of his nose tightly to the window of the bus, and then excitedly shouted to me: Auntie, the sky is full of butterflies!His shout did not attract much attention from the crowd in the car.Many people, as usual, lowered their hair and texted, or plugged their ears and listened to rock, or yelled loudly at their family members on the phone.

But I was sucked into the long flying snowflakes little by little by the small whirling white shadow in my little nephew's bright eyes.

On that winter afternoon, my 6-year-old nephew forcibly dragged me out of the car on the way to study at the Children's Palace.We were in a wide square, shouting vigorously, chasing, hitting each other with soft snowballs.My exquisite brand-name clothes were hit mercilessly by the flying snowballs, and they made a satisfying sound of slapping.And my neck, my hair, and my shoes are wet with kisses from those snowflakes that calmly and disappear.With my warm body, I felt their cold and sentimental tears, and suddenly I realized that since the day I entered the city, I have lost it bit by bit. It turns out that it is not the winter with snowflakes flying, and it is not the yearning for me all the time. The countryside is a pure and beautiful childlike innocence.

However, how long does it take for an adult who is running around in the boundless world like me to find the childish innocence that we have forgotten in the snow?Could it be that when we go to time like snow and our hair is covered with hair, we suddenly realize that in many cases, we could have kept a state of mind as transparent as ice flowers in the hard shell?

Just like at this moment, I throw away all the favors that need to be dealt with, so inappropriately, I think of those snowflakes flying like elves in a certain winter.

I went to the Temple of Heaven with my friends. I wanted to take a photo in front of an ancient door. I held up the camera, but because the people passing around blocked the scenery behind me, I couldn’t find a suitable moment to leave a clean one for my friends. memories.In desperation, I planned to take a photo of it as a certificate of "visiting here".

At this moment, a tall and thin foreigner walked up from the background. I don’t know which country he is from, but his gentle and elegant demeanor still attracted me. Just when I wanted to press the shutter and take him as a landscape, I took pictures together. During the camera, he suddenly walked quickly to the left of the door.When I finished shooting and looked up, there was no sign of him on the opposite side. When I was surprised, he poked his head out from behind a door, made a face at me like a child, and gave me an apologetic smile. Set your sights on my camera.She was only looking at the photo just taken in the camera, and didn't notice when he retracted his head again.After we dawdled admiringly, when we walked through the door, he poked his head out from behind the door again, pointed at the camera and said with a smile: OK?

I finally realized that he had been hiding behind the door to take pictures for us, leaving a small clean space, although, in such a crowded tourist attraction, without him in the background of the photos, there would not be much Change.But at that moment, looking at his warm and bright smile, and the sincere apology in the smile, I was suddenly deeply moved by this foreign gentleman.It is just a subtle courtesy that is not easy to detect. Many times, our countrymen often discard this kind of courtesy and demeanor outside the luggage bag before going out. We think that it will be easy to go on the road, but we forget. Human roses, lingering fragrance in hands, such heart-warming details, in the crowded crowd, when they are indifferently thrown away, the place where it reaches is a mess, and it is actually our own eyes that hurt.

I also remembered another small incident. One summer, in the unfamiliar Beijing, I was boarding in a friend's dormitory because I was looking for a job everywhere.Because my friends don’t come back often, basically it’s just me and two other girls in the dormitory.Running around alone is exhausting both physically and mentally, and if there is any trouble, you will often feel that the world is collapsing and your heart is empty.And a girl in the dormitory who has always been harsh, lost a sum of money just after I was rejected by several units one after another, and insinuated, she first pointed the finger of suspicion at me.

She is not a woman who is good at arguing with others, but the two of them, still in the friction of their eyes, scratched and scraped unpleasant hairballs.It was the girl who pre-empted the attack, saying that I was boarding in other people's dormitories, but I didn't know how to obey other people's rules. I am reluctant to spend money to rent a house, so how can I find a job in Beijing and return to my small county.Finally couldn't bear it, when she asked me bluntly if I lent the key to others, she lay down on the bed and cried loudly.

I don't know how long I have been crying alone like this, I only know that the street lamps outside the window are lit up one by one, enveloping everything in the room in a hazy and slight light and shadow.The mouth was a little dry, and I reached for the cup by the bed, but when I touched it, I felt as cold as ice on the wall.Just one sip in the dark, the refreshing coolness washed away all the unhappiness in my heart.The taste buds burst open, and I finally tasted it. It was a glass of iced Coke.

Looking up, I saw another girl on the upper bunk smiling at me.The sound of people outside the window is far away, the singing of cicadas gradually subsides, a few sparse stars hang in the sky, and the luster of the moon is so soft, quiet and touching.The girl plugged in her earphones, but she could still hear a soothing serenade, overflowing.Many years have passed, and I still remember that summer night, and the girl who lived in the same room. When I was wronged, she didn't help me to justify anything, but with a cool glass of cola and a beautiful smile, she spoke silently. Soothed my helpless wandering heart.

Walking all the way, it is such a small and small firework, twinkling, illuminating the lonely journey, giving me enough confidence to walk in the sea of ​​people, persistent, strong, and calm.

I like everything that flows, boats, buses, buses, trains, subways, flywheels spinning in mid-air.When I was on it, I felt that I was flowing freely like water.If you close your eyes, there is wind in your ears, or, even better, there is a piece of music that suits your mood, flowing gently, or overflowing with passion, so that your whole soul will fly with it.Yes, for a journey, no matter how short it is, without music, it is almost like the sky lacks birds, the water lacks fish, the forest lacks animals, all the scenery that should be vivid and colorful, and the ghosts attached to the body Flying souls will be dehydrated, bored, and anxious.

For a period of time, I needed to cross most of the city every day, from the rented hut to the newspaper office where I practiced.The time spent on the bus is usually two hours.There are many buses that arrive at the newspaper office, but I only like bus 72 among them.The driver of the bus is a man of few words. What he does most often is to put a DV disc into the machine beside him, and then quietly listen to the beautiful melody of the song.They are all old songs from the last century, but placed in such an unfamiliar environment, there is a special softness that slowly separates, shrinks, and gathers the inside of the car.The space between people's hearts is slowly filled with such a gossamer-like breath, until this journey ends at one stop after another and starts again.

The song that impressed me the most was Xie Dong's "Smiley Face".At that time, the reports about his life experience and living conditions were the most popular. Suddenly, on the screen of the bus, he saw his pimple-covered smiling face, singing so innocently, accompanied by a plainly dressed woman, MTV Compared with now, the filming is a little more subtle, but I was instantly hit by the simple melody of this song.I think of Xie Dong's song more than ten years ago, when it was popular, I was still a young girl with a younger and purer smile than the woman on the screen.On the last page of the graduation guest book, there is a printed lyrics of "Smiley Face". On the opposite side of the lyrics, Xie Dong smiles at each of us foolishly against the background of blue sky and flowers.At that time, I might never have imagined that this singer who sang popular songs in the north and south would fall into such a desperate situation; nor would I have imagined that in such a way, with a smile that no longer existed, Meet with a bang.Such emotions and melancholy, a short one-hour journey, are not enough to dissipate.I remember that it took me a long time to slowly sort out the unpredictable accidents and oscillations in life.And this journey, because of this old song, quietly sneaked into my memory.

Half a year later, I started to travel back and forth between the two cities for work and love.Every weekend, I will take a car for more than two hours to visit my loved ones in J City.The car I was riding in would always play foreign songs when driving away from the urban area and entering the highway.Every time I can't understand the lyrics in it, but the dynamic and sad song at that time made my heart grow wings and flew over the endless fields and trees with the car.At that time, people were shaking in crowded and closed cars, but their souls had already left their bodies and were galloping freely.The lonely farmer flashing by outside the window, the seedlings struggling to rise in the paddy field, the wooden bridge on the river that has been in disrepair, the wheat waves undulating in the wind, the lonely fisherman, the vines climbing hard by the roadside, the burning sky in the sky The clouds, all of these, are covered with a soft color like tulle by unknown singing voices, and slide past one by one in sight.And the love and life that can't be closed for the time being are just like this led by the music, moving forward gently, forward, until the end of the happiness I yearn for.

It was an anxious and exhausting time, running around again and again often made me feel helpless and doubtful about the future, but every time I embarked on a journey, whether it was going back or going, my heart, in the music, would always be like this A lotus flower, after sleeping, yawns lazily, and then blooms safely among the playing fish.The song I remember listening to the most is Bandari's "Dream Chaser". Such a persistent and bright song often makes me follow the open car in an instant, and bravely embark on an unknown but firmly believed beautiful journey.

Later, because of studying, I started to travel between Beijing and another city many times.In order to save money, I took the cheapest hard seat, the car was noisy, and no one played music anymore, so I used small earplugs to block the noisy world from my mind.What I listen to is still the old songs.I like those songs that have gone through time. They are like scallops on the beach of time. Only those who understand will find the shiny pearls hidden under the shell.Every song is carefully selected before the trip, and put into the bright blue MP3.The journey, to me, is like going on a date with a lover. In this journey, the faint and distant singing, the silently flowing scenery, the small and quiet platform, the flickering lights in the dark night, the sleepy travelers in the car, all It turns into a note, and together with the singing, it plucks the strings of the soul.And at the end, there must be a lover's smiling face, a firm hug, or a cup of fragrant green tea, waiting for me with warmth...

One day, a friend texted me and asked, where are you?I said, I am not on the way where the singing is lingering, but in the singing on the way.In fact, I want to tell my friends that I hope I am a bird, waiting to fly all the time, yearning to be close to the big clouds and the clear sky; and music is the clouds and the sky that embrace me. The blue sky, they turned into a boundless background, but made my flying so pure, peaceful, and lofty...

(End of this chapter)