Showers of Bullets

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A few days ago, I got back to my homeland from another city.

In others' city, there is my ill mother at home with me. Get on the bus, classmates ask me, why not come back for more than two years? We always write poems like this in the campus, the homeland is my mother, now, my mother is my eternal homeland.

My sister has mailed messages: So anxious to go back to the township? I just came back from her city. Enter homeland, mobile phone signal no of me. Is this a hint? It wants to tell me what.

Pass by the garden room where my big aunt lives, the car has been parked. I have entered once bending over. Garden room of her at the large roadside, read the cabin of the vegetable garden first originally, heard the little uncle calling this kind of building " the development zone " humorously later ,Say which day is unfit for anything and live in the development zone, peace and quiet for ears. The big aunt asks me mother's condition once seeing me, then wipe one's own canthus ceaselessly with sleeves. Such a scene has been repeated in the homeland for several times, just personages are becoming: Two aunts, two aunts, aunts, younger sisters. I always speak a word, I must leave, my classmate is waiting outside. It is so short that it is mobilized that even one's own emotion has no enough time.

I and my classmates saw that small bridge at the same time. I get up body direct unconsciously, I see one cousin of me, it seems who does it wait for, I have not got off. My classmate has remembered the past event, on the Spring Festival of 1991, as soon as he caught way of 30 kilometers, he bought two bottles of " Lao Huang's skins " in this bridgehead (the homeland, to the pet name of a kind of Chinese liquor, it is yellow that the packaging of the wine is) ,Don't be after the bicycle the shelf has got on my home.

It is a secretary in this town now. While passing in the town, I have remembered his identity. The small town is just the enlarged village, there is a main street too, but street this one bunch is worn local police station, telecommunication bureau, government compound, agricultural bank, middle school and big and small shop that I teach once into, the sample looks like and inserts the candied haws on a stick on the top of the bamboo pole very much, under the sunshine at noon, I think it is on, the car is moving, I see the dance in small, broken bits. Break to pieces, can not collect, there was not beauty found a lot of years ago. I at that time always think to live in other places.

The car sailed into the road before the village steadily, I had thought of a new developing word: Open in every village. The homeland has given me a brand-new feeling through a road. Yes, road of homeland, fresh young expression, old one of tree new and green. Crops and wind, the rainbow flowing. The time that I am trickled on the road at noon snarls the state of mind. You should write this road, it is your little uncle that leads what the people in the village repaired after being a village branch secretary. Classmates' voice seems to fall since remote space-time.

I have seen our old room. Frankly speaking, it is the place where the old room once existed, stand in others' new tile-roofed house above. That day when the old room fell down, parents cried, I thought I had no tear. The smoke from kitchen chimneys in the old room is and mother is combined together. If one day, mother goes further, lose the source of the life, I do not know the procedure that I am more long. Homeless.

The one that go out and meet us, first small uncle's yellow dog of the house, then the cousin, is the little uncle, it is aunts of the apron that it is greasy that there are dual tactics. The little uncle is very glad, he looks very sunny. I have seen my mother from his smile. What has he seen? His elder sister? His superior? My classmate agreed, we gather together, do not have other contents. Classmate Cui of me come too, he leaves home and goes to school to go back to the township to teach with me. Set free false autumn 1990, we still stayed into the school, took the noodles that he boiled, I had diarrhoea and went home. He is still fostering the fresh and tender book sound of homeland by way of life of staying behind to take care of things.

We begin to clink glasses ceaselessly, without clinking glasses while speaking, have finished offering the elder offering each one each other. Cui say me to be getting tight I say, stay up drum smash the payment for an article or book written. The little uncle says the secretary support my village more this year, then I am calling " the secretary " Clink glasses with classmates, it is classmates that classmates say us you do not get me down. Three uncles have come too, not bad, he has not asked my mother. This kind of circumstances, some wine is touched and must be drunk up, some topics must touch the regret. Drinking, I have changed into the tea. I am very sober, has seen the people of the homeland, I immerse in the linguistic context in childhood.

When leave, bent over very consummately, crept into the car, so left my homeland fast. Only two hours, it is general to scratch the surface, and this is water which is moistening my life, water in all one's life.

In the city that I live away from home, I am sleeping at noon. In the homeland, I am waking up, seem to walk in the dream too. White light clicked flashes a bit equally to see the roof fish scale of the homeland, I suddenly remembered a word like this:

The scenery can turn around, but the destiny can never turn around.

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