Jia Pingwa’s “To Mother” original reading

2022-06-07 0 By

When people are alive, they just do a lot of things and don’t care about day and night.When people die, the days pile up: do the math, in twenty days, my mother would have been three years old.For three years, I had this strange idea that my mother wasn’t dead, and that she didn’t think she was dead either.It is often said that death is like sleep, but sleep people know to sleep, sleep in the bed, but do not know when to fall asleep.My mother and I lived in Xi ‘an for 14 years. After her serious illness, the doctor determined that her organs were failing, so I sent her back to Dihua for treatment.Every day, she hung up liquid in her hometown. She also knew that when every bottle of liquid was finished, her children would change into another bottle of liquid, so she lay with her eyes closed.On the third day of the night, she closed her eyes is not open again, but still think that she is sure she hang in liquid, don’t realize is that from then on don’t wake up, because she has asked my sister to lie down and when to wipe her face wash towels, the comb on the pillow, is no solution on the belt key, there is no account any affairs.Three years ago, every time I sneezed, I would say: Who is missing me?My mother loves to talk and laugh, so she would say: Who wants to, mother wants to!In the past three years, I sneezed a lot. I often missed meals and stayed up too long, so I would sneeze. Once I sneezed, I would think of my mother and think that my mother was still worried about me.My mother is concerned about me. She doesn’t think she is dead, but I feel my mother is still there, especially when I am alone at home. This feeling is very strong.When I was writing, I would suddenly hear my mother calling me, so clearly that I would turn my head to the right.My mother used to sit on the head of the bed in the room to the right. When I sat at my desk to write, she would not move or make a sound. But she would look at me for a long time and then call out to me, “Can you finish writing the word in the world and go for a walk?”Now, every time MY mother calls me, I put down my pen and walk into the room, thinking, has my mother come to Xi ‘an from Dihua?Of course, there is nothing in the room, but I have to stand for a long time, talking to myself that my mother has come and gone out to buy me my favorite green pepper and radish in the street.Perhaps, she is teasing me, deliberately hidden in her picture hanging on the wall, I will give the photo in front of the incense burner, to say: I am not tired.For three years, I wrote more than ten articles to others, but never wrote a word to my mother, because all mothers, children all think are great and good, I do not want to repeat these words.My mother was an ordinary woman with bound feet, no education and a rural household registration, but my mother was so important to me.It has been a long time since I quaked in fear of her illness, but no one ever told me in this way or that way when I go abroad for a long time. When I have something delicious and good to drink, I don’t know whom to send it to.At home in Xi ‘an, the room where my mother lived, I did not touch a single piece of furniture, everything was the same as it was, and I never saw my mother again.Again and again, I said to myself, my mother is not dead, she is living in the countryside home.This summer was so hot and humid that I woke up every night thinking I should get a new air conditioner in my mom’s room.It must be cool to wake up and comfort my mother in her new place in the country.As the day of the third anniversary approached, the custom of the countryside was to hold a ceremony. I prepared the flowers and candles and went back to Di Hua.But once I returned to Dihua, I had to go to the grave. Reality told me that mom was dead. I was on the ground, and she was underground.Article/Jia Pingwa photo from the Internet