I always feel like a wanderer.

For decades, I have been wandering around the world. I have walked through fields, cities and many places.

Where is the land I come from? My hometown, where is my hometown?

I don't know.

/kloc-left Hangzhou at the age of 0/9. Xizi Lake, full of water and mountains, is my birthplace. Luoshe, a small town in the south of the Yangtze River, is my grandmother's home 0/00 miles away from Hangzhou/KLOC.

However, I am just a passer-by in Hangzhou, and my ancestral home is in Xinhui, Guangdong. I didn't go back to my hometown in Guangdong with my parents until I was 30.

There are emerald rivers, dense sugarcane forests and mysterious and quiet banyan island in my hometown. At sunset, I saw white storks with big wings and long necks hovering back to their nests. The sky was covered with huge banyan trees and birds were singing. That is the world-famous bird of paradise. Xinhui county is a sunflower town in the world. On the green water waves by the river, strings of slender boats are full of fragrant laurel leaves, which are heavy and gone with the water. ...

But my hometown belongs to me, but I have no sense of garden. Nobody knows me, and I don't really know anyone. I can't even speak a complete and authentic hometown. My father and I, who left home in our early years, are like outcasts in exile, looking for and identifying with the roots left by this land in a strange local accent.

Dreams often appear in the lotus pond in the south of the Yangtze River. There are purple and sweet mulberries in the green mulberry field in spring, golden pomelo in autumn, zongzi and dried fish with sauce meat hanging all over the hall in winter and New Year, and a pot of delicious cooked taro. ...

Summer vacation and winter vacation, take a small steam boat to my grandmother's house in Luoshe Town. There is a big stone bridge in the east of the town. In summer, many naked children jump into the river from the dock. This river is connected with the vast Luoshe ocean. I used to wash rice under the bridge. The bamboo basket was wet, and when it was fished out of the water, a small fish jumped on the pearl-white rice. ...

Grandma has passed away. Grandma left with her hometown. Actually, grandma is not from Zhejiang. I heard that my grandmother's ancestors were from Danyang, Jiangsu, and I don't know when she moved to Deqing Luoshe. I also heard that Luoshe was called Luoshe because there was a Luoyang immigrant's house in the early years. From this perspective, it is also difficult to verify the ancestral home of grandparents. What is my hometown, the Jiangnan town I dream of?

Therefore, there is a faint separation and suspicion about Hangzhou, which gave birth to me and raised me. Naturally, I like the tenderness and indifference of the West Lake, the green grass and intoxicating smiling flowers in the botanical garden in spring, the bamboo forest and the lush camphor tree in winter ... but they are just ribbons and decorations on my cradle. I admire them and praise them, but they despise me.

Where the hell am I from?

More often, I will meditate on the distant ice and snow and think of the blue Xiaoxing 'an Mountains shrouded in mist. Stepping into the deep mountains in knee-deep snow, unfrozen mountain springs in the bushes tinkle all the way, singing and laughing, and occasionally warm spring water overflows along the slope, so the tower piers in low-lying areas are generally sealed by crystals, and you can see jasper-like grass under the ice.

On a windless day in the mountains, a little clear snow floats gently and slowly in the quiet oak forest, which falls on the headscarf and does not melt, and soon shines on your shoulder. This is a gift from the Snow Queen. If you close your eyes, you can hear the sound of snowflakes kissing leaves. It was the first time in my 2 1 year-old life that I found the sound of falling snow, such as silkworms sipping leaves and babies sucking milk.

At that time, I lived in a tent, and the coarse wood burned in the furnace barrel all night rumbled, like a forest train, like a tractor in a forest farm, and there was always the crack of ice coming from the foot of the mountain. ...

The morning in the mountains is quiet and charming. The forest top on the slope is rosy, and the smell of lavender smoke lingers. On the snow in front of the door, there are ribbon-like footprints of unknown animals that have come quietly at night. Careful identification, such as plum blossoms like willow tips, clearly and confusedly winding in the snowfield and disappearing into the depths of the jungle. ...

Those mysterious forest residents gave me great kindness, which once made me feel whether I should stay here from now on.

Small footprints rise and fall on the boundless snowfield, just like our turbulent youth.

/kloc-left his birthplace in Hangzhou at the age of 0/9 and went to the distant and cold Great Northern Wilderness.

At that time, I missed my West Lake day and night, and my hometown was in the warm south.

But now I know that I have no hometown. We are always walking, sowing seeds that can grow all over the world while walking. We are satisfied with the status quo and take root; It's decided when you come. Wherever you go, it's home. We are like a group of nomads in the new era, a group of homeless immigrants with no home to return to. Maybe I have been to too many places and have too many second homes.

However, in the sultry and suffocating summer days in the city, I will still think of Yuan Ye in the north, which has been integrated into the land of our youth. Everything there is rough and simple. Twenty years of sun and moon have honed me into a delicate Jiangnan woman, flexible and solid. In the future, I may continue to wander and find and create my own spiritual home in this extremely small world.

2. Hometown

In the fields of my hometown, there are children chasing each other, running freely with the wind, playing hide-and-seek in the vast golden sea of wheat, and catching chickens with eagles on the vast grassland; After harvesting, the farmer's uncle weaves a lovely scarecrow with yellow wheat and straw; Sparrows fly around in the fields looking for rice. Naughty children chase hungry sparrows and play in the fields of their hometown.

In the fields of my hometown, golden wheat waves, small insects flapping their wings wandering in the endless fields, birds hovering in the blue sky singing harvest songs and enjoying the golden autumn. In the harvest season, the farmer's uncle wears a straw hat and harvests silently in the scorching sun. Ruthless sunshine changed their skin from dark yellow to bronze, but it created their strong backbone.

The crowing of chickens broke the quiet morning light in my hometown, and the village was shrouded in layers of fog, which had a hazy beauty; Black chimneys are full of aura, and the smell of cooking smoke permeates the mountains and rivers of my hometown. I don't know which good woman makes a fire and cooks for my family at the dawn of victory. The crystal-clear dew in the morning shines brightly like a white mirror in the dim light of the sun, reflecting the faces of hardworking Iraqis.

The wind in my hometown gently caressed the branches, and osmanthus was scattered all over the floor. Sweet-scented osmanthus is floating in every corner of the village, lingering over the tile house of Zhibi.

When I left my hometown with longing, bid farewell to the hot land where I was born and raised, and came to the noisy neon city, looking forward to my shining starry sky. But I don't understand why every lonely night, I will think of my hometown life; Think about the people I love. When I miss them, will they miss me at the dim window?

Whenever I am alone in the dead of night, looking at my hometown at the end of the day, I will sing my hometown songs and think of my hometown people.

What I miss is the warmth of my hometown under the light, which is the greatest warmth in my life. I don't know whether it started from ignorance or when, but my grandmother has been with me. When I was a child, I fell asleep in comfort with grandma's lullaby. In the season of osmanthus, grandma will shake osmanthus with me and make me a sweet Osmanthus Jelly. That sweetness will stay in my mouth for life.

Grandma mended my torn clothes by candlelight. Through candlelight, the power of time has changed grandma's clothes. Deep sunken eyes, wrinkled face, bent and stumbled. I secretly counted the white hair on my grandmother's head by candlelight, and inadvertently dropped a puzzling tear.

Warm in the light, grandma in the candlelight; You are my concern, and you are the light on my way forward. No matter whether the road ahead is full of thorns or a mirage, I will take your love through bleak autumn, biting winter and unbeaten spring.

In the evening of my hometown, the red flaming clouds reflect the small village, and the afterglow of the sunset illuminates the fisherman's way home on the river.

Maybe you will still think of the floating clouds in your hometown in a daze, maybe you will sing the warm south mud bend in your hometown after being hurt by betrayal, or maybe you will want to return to your hometown after dusk. No matter how far we go, how brilliant we are, we are like a kite string tightly held in the heavy hands of our hometown, and we will never wander in a foreign land and escape from this world.

When our shoulders bear the unbearable weight of life, please don't be afraid of confusion, please don't put down your bags on your shoulders, look at the lights in front and move on. No matter how many turning points you have to pass in the future, please don't forget the way home.

I want to put everything in my hometown in my pocket so that I can feel the warmth of my hometown all the time.

I never care about the so-called happiness in the eyes of others. I just want to protect the brick houses in my hometown, which carry my memories. There are rainbows that I painted on the wall, kites that I flew as a child, paper airplanes that I folded on my desk, and phonographs that my grandmother listened to flowers, dreams, fairy tales and warmth.

Singing the songs of hometown, speaking the words of hometown, dreaming the dreams of hometown, embracing the sunny days of hometown, thinking of relatives in hometown, and crossing our hands to bless our hometown.

My hometown is a song that warms my chest. The songs in my hometown are pure as water, passionate as fire, brilliant as flowers, resounding through the sky and warming my dreams.

3. Looking back at my hometown

At midnight, I made a cup of fragrant coffee. Drinking coffee, my fingertips are beating fast on the keyboard, and I think of my beautiful hometown-a beautiful water town in He Lixia, northern Jiangsu.

Quiet Haichi River, antique splayed bridge, beautiful water forest park and charming old sand ditch make me want to cry all the time and fly to my hometown. Looking back on my childhood, I followed my mother to wash the sheets across the bridge, went for a spring outing in the beautiful crib yard with my classmates, and flew kites on foot in Wu Jinfang.

Living in a city for a long time will inevitably be assimilated by the language. I am an out-and-out northern Jiangsu native. Although I have been away for ten years, I still have a strong accent in my voice. My daughter has lived in Nanjing since childhood. When I was two years old, I was transferred to other places to work, so I entrusted my mother-in-law to look after me and didn't come back to me until I was five years old. When my daughter first came, her accent was gone. Now she speaks standard Nanpu dialect (Nanjing Mandarin). Occasionally I go back to my hometown to listen to the faster Subei dialect, but I still can't understand it. Learning to speak my hometown dialect is even stranger, which makes my heart ache.

When I take my daughter back to my hometown, I will take her around. Go where I used to live, study and work. I took my daughter to Xinhua Kindergarten (Senate House) where I stayed when I was a child. The famous Senate has been renovated. When I was a child, the two heavy doors of Xinhua Kindergarten were still there. bronze doors hasn't changed at all, but it was repainted with cinnabar paint after renovation. I pointed to the high threshold and told my daughter that my mother went to kindergarten there when she was very young. Once after school, her feet didn't lift and she tripped over the threshold. The whole forearm rubbed against the ground, and her tender arm was skinned and bloody, and there are still traces.

Take my daughter through the mossy Confucian Street and Qingshi Road, all the way through Shangyuan Lane, and come to the most prosperous Paifang Road in my hometown, where there is the county middle school, the highest institution of learning in our hometown. I told my daughter that my mother was only two points away from this campus when she graduated from primary school. However, my mother took the exam there in junior high school and junior high school. This is the campus that my mother yearns for and the goal that my mother strives for. Unfortunately, due to the urban planning and relocation of the county seat, only some traces of the past have been left. I walked around the old trees left after the demolition of the old county seat and looked up at the branches with thick leaves. I don't know if the trees still remember that there was a fair-skinned girl on the boulevard in the county town, who was in a hurry on the way to catch the exam.

Ten years ago, in the evening, there was often a long-haired shawl by the beautiful Haichi River. Women in plain skirts in plain clothes are sitting by the river, reading books or staring at the water, watching the ripples on the river, watching the sunset gradually setting, and watching wild ducks splashing in the river. That girl is the old me. After experiencing a wave of mood swings, I will walk around Haichi River every morning or evening. Only when I see the gurgling river and watch the gurgling river lapping against the river bank can I get a moment of peace, have no other thoughts and enjoy the beautiful scenery of nature. Sunset and dusk accompanied me through year after year until I left my hometown and moved away from home.

Although the beautiful scenery of my hometown makes me linger, there are too many memories haunting me in those years when I lived in my hometown. When I live there, I always expect myself to leave there as soon as possible, hoping to leave all the clutter and triviality. I used to wander between several cities. On the day when firecrackers are ringing and families are reunited, I would rather eat instant noodles far away from home and endure loneliness and cold. I don't want to go back to my hometown I hate it there. I'm afraid I'll be moved by the sight there. But time is the best healing medicine. After many years, those tangled memories have faded away. My homesickness complex is getting stronger and stronger. The tranquility and comfort of the town make me want to stop and have a rest. Every time I go home on holiday, I always feel that time is too short. Sitting on the bus home, I always feel that the road is too long. When I return to my parents, I always feel that I have endless words.

My 70-year-old parents, hearing the news of my coming home, are counting down every day. When I set foot in my hometown and call them, my father will go downstairs and wait for me, and my clumsy mother will keep looking for the door frame. When my daughter sees grandpa from a distance, she will definitely give him a big hug. The family entered the door talking and laughing, and my elder sister and sister-in-law had prepared a sumptuous dinner to greet me. But every holiday comes, when I go back to Nanjing to say goodbye to my parents, my mother will always burst into tears, and I will hold back my tears and comfort my mother with a smile. I often go home to watch it. This is the sentence that my father said the most when he sent me.

In spring, I think mostly of weeping willows in my hometown; In summer, people in Beishuiguanqiao are the ones who think the most, holding cattail leaf fans to enjoy the cool. In autumn, I think most of the plane leaves fall on the archway; In winter, I think mostly of frozen nails hanging under the eaves. My beautiful hometown, I sincerely wish you high grain yield and rapid economic development. May my hometown become more and more beautiful!

4. Hometown daydream

In the north, when you see the falling leaves, you will think of your hometown. My hometown is a city in southern Sichuan, surrounded by mountains and waters. There are green mountains and clear water, which often makes me dream. Whether it is a big river or a small river, it is a small town. As soon as I got there, I felt relieved. The appearance of water slowly flows into my heart with the rings and grows into a dream. This kind of scenery makes me look forward to my hometown, expecting it to be more moist and clear, just like the modernity in the mountains or the countryside in the city. In recent years, due to long-term work in the field, I returned to my hometown after a period of time, and the changes there made me feel more and more cordial. In the past, this feeling was not there. I had a holiday, and when I left, I didn't have much sadness and thinking. Whenever I see the change of seasons, the cold breath in the wind, the yellow leaves falling all over the ground, the vines in my hometown gradually bloom like flowers, which makes me feel a lot of melancholy and reflects my nostalgia for life. Missing is like growing wings and returning to your hometown instantly;

In the south, in my hometown, there are many mountains covered with green clothes. The river at the foot of the mountain, like a gentle daughter, guards the lights on the shore. Like goddess peak's insistence, it continues the ancient dream. The winding river and the flowing water, in the narrow strip between the two rivers, nurtured the children of one side of the water and soil, and grew a lot of turquoise, which permeated between the blue sky and white clouds and the vast fields; There are fragrant rice in farmland, the fragrance of melons and fruits, the golden color of rape flowers, the beauty of silk and the history and culture reflected between the modern avenue and the old city of that city. When the night is deep, the lights on the river and the shore breed endless charm and comfort in the south;

The wine in my hometown is scattered in the pubs in the mean streets. There are simple benches, red and black square tables, and the smell of jars. It is pure and exudes the softness and lingering fragrance of grain. People in pubs, or farmers in villages, or vendors in small streets, have anecdotes, birds, insects, fish, and so on in slang in southern Sichuan, occasionally joking with the proprietress. In the afternoon, in the sunshine, it slowly moves towards dusk, and the oblique sunshine shines with dust. Time seems to have solidified and everything becomes so quiet.

Time is a magical thing. In the ordinary world of my hometown, there are some perfect human nature and people's kindness. There is too much tenderness there, and I respond to a little history and culture with words or laughter.

To the south is Chishui River, where there are wine cities such as Luzhou and Yibin. Perhaps it is in this environment that the drunkenness in my hometown makes me a little coquettish, with the clangor and tear of Sichuan opera, which is touching. I often travel through all kinds of alleys in my hometown town, thinking about how many touching stories and legends about wine are hidden in this humble restaurant. Although in the concept of modern metropolis, alleys are dying, I may look for the taste of my hometown in the cold wind. This kind of wine has been brewing in my heart for a long time, waiting for a certain moment to respond to those early mornings and evenings, where there are memories of my childhood and endless nostalgia for my hometown;

Calligraphy in my hometown shuttles between modern and ancient times, especially Pengxi. I saw the culture of Pengxi, the hometown of calligraphy, rising. A pavilion, a pavilion, a small bridge and a cloister are all so fragrant and endless. They are black art, wild and unrestrained between black and white, or the burning flame of human nature and intertwined images. Let the space of imagination be released, which is the expression of the flow of motion and static, black and white, space and time. Where there is your shadow, where there is my voice, where there is his future, where there is the agility of music, where there is the sadness and joy of poetry, and where there is the leap of mountains and rivers. Is a person traveling around the world;

The ethereal landscape breeds lofty humanity. People who walk on the road of calligraphy have maintained a consistent posture for thousands of years. Every time I see calligraphy works from all over the world, what flashes in my heart is the ink overflowing from my hometown, which is an unforgettable memory. It is the land of my hometown and the baptism of my growth.

In spring, whether it is sunny or sunny, the scenery on the dam stretches between the ridges, and the rape blossoms are yellow and contiguous, running towards the sun. This is an expectant smile. It is golden yellow and green, growing in farmers' tobacco bags, flowing in the cries of buffaloes and chickens and dogs all over the country, conveying the cries of harvest through the foggy morning, from the farmhouses with blue bricks and black tiles.

In any case, the river in my hometown is an unavoidable memory for me. In the 1970s, an artificial river named Canal River was built in the west of the city, which ran down Qujiang River. When we get to our hometown, we will burst our banks and encircle the dam. At the foot of Chuanshan Mountain, the alternation of green grass is my long-term memory of it. This is my childhood paradise, my first perception of this river, and the testimony of the concept of swimming, my childhood and my life. On this day, it became beautiful, but I found it old, like a quiet middle-aged woman, flowing quietly. I think it must miss the past youth and prosperous season. On this day, it was decorated with modern lights, became fashionable and beautiful, but lost the noise of the past. Its quietness is a loss or gain. Let the ring give it an answer.

When people reach middle age, they always think of the past. Enthusiasm for hometown began in recent years. Every time they see a change in their hometown, their feelings will always fluctuate. Shallow regrets in their joy always flow inadvertently. Things in the past are not necessarily good, but they are not necessarily bad. They saw the winding traffic and bright lights in binjiang road, the banks of Fujiang River, weeping willows, tourists and the connected central island. I think the beauty of hometown must be in people's hearts, in every bright smile, and even in the thick honey juice when family members get together. People's happiness should have a dull look in their hometown dreams, which is the warmth that everyone needs.

There is my home deep in the winding alley.

The green grass wall surrounds the moss courtyard, and the atrium is faded with banana rolls. Butterflies fly up the stairs, and the curtains hang freely. Jade hook bilingual swallow, wrapped roll. A few winnowing sound, Chun Lv window light sleep. -inscription

Every evening, I always put away my fatigue in a hurry and rush back to my warm home with the afterglow of the sunset.

The city in winter has a cold and strange feeling. Crowds of people ran wildly in the street against the north wind. I don't know them and they don't know me. I walked in this monochrome background, as if I had been walking in a silent movie in the 1930s. With the cutting and transformation of the road, I slowly merged into the overlapping night view of the city.

I walked wearily but firmly, as if a voice was pulling me slowly, and I walked involuntarily in that familiar direction. The old house is deep in a quiet alley, where there is my warm home.

My home is an old two-story villa, located in the depths of an old alley. This old German-style house has two courtyards, and the street in front of the house has been changed into a shopping pedestrian street. After the door of the backyard hall was opened, it was a winding alley street. Every time I go home, I don't want to pass Qianmen Street. I'd rather make a detour than always turn into this old alley. Walking in the long alley of the old alley, the walls made of tall gray bricks are covered with ivy vines. Seasons let these dense branches and vines fall and rot, leaving thin roots in the air and deeply penetrating into mottled walls to complete a grid composed of vines.

The road in the alley is paved with bluestone slabs, extending from the corner of the alley to the door of my backyard. Under the disturbance of the rainy season for many years, a lot of moss is deposited on the gap of the path paved with stone slabs, which looks like a green road. On both sides of the stone road, near the courtyard wall, there are locust trees. The thick trunk of Sophora japonica is often covered with light brown tits, which fly in and out between branches and leaves.

All this makes the whole old alley full of a different kind of vitality, hidden in a city with many high-rise buildings and numerous noises. It looks so elegant and simple, and it has the artistic conception that "his lonely lane is closed by a dense grove". Every spring, the huge crown of the locust tree in the alley will be covered with white flowers. A gust of wind blew and a broken white petal fell to the ground. When I was a child, whenever I walked in the alley, I often picked up the fallen flowers when I saw them. When you sleep at night, fold your clothes and put them next to your pillow. The fresh fragrance of Sophora japonica will float all night.

At the end of the stone road is the courtyard gate of my old house. In front of the courtyard are stone steps made of bluestone. The wide and short steps are slightly cool in front of the door, bearing in mind the steps that several generations have passed. On one side of the steps, there is a pear tree with lush foliage. This pear tree, which is decades old, grows proudly.

Leaning out from the branches and leaves of the courtyard wall of the old house, the window frames in the shade of the tree exude an orange fragrance, which is in harmony with the street lamps in the streets. In the overlapping urban night scenes, it is like a leisurely oil painting. I like this old tree very much. I like hiding in the shade in summer, lying on an old rattan chair, holding a yellowed thread-bound book and listening to cicadas.

When the moon is full, I like to make a cup of tea and watch the moon emerge from the cracks in the trees. The cold light and shadow are mottled and alienated, as if full thoughts were spilled on the ground. Looking at the noon of the bright moon, the thoughts in the moonlight have been with me like this old tree, but I am gradually sinking in the tangled branches and leaves of this old tree. I like this old tree, and I like its youthful bloom even more.

Life is such a stroll here, reliving all the growing memories in my heart. Although some past events have been fragmented by the silkworms of the years, the journey of life is still vivid.

I am waiting for this ordinary and satisfied mood, and these past events seem to bring me back to the past. Time is a blank drawing, only to see many previous plots and past events being carried on the speeding time train, drifting away from me. Only the steps and this old tree accompany me, accompany me to grow up, nurture my temperament, personality and dignity, and inspire my pursuit and efforts.

"Life is actually a painful tragedy, and only the details have the meaning of comedy." Happy and painful memories can be chosen by yourself. I have always thought that the sudden life is like a song, which can declare my strength. However, I have never found that warmth is around me.

When the sun sets and the street lights are on one by one, the warmth of home and the lights revealed outside the window will lead me step by step to the road home. I walk in this background and put all my feelings on my shoulders. Find your dreams in the floating sea of lights in Hui Jin. Different things happen every day. The only constant is that we all have a happy family.

Extended data

With the help of the author's understanding of several hometown emotions, the prose describing hometown expresses his understanding and deeper exploration of "hometown". The "hometown" described by the author refers not only to a simple region, but also to a spiritual home. A place to place your feelings. Compared with other types of prose, hometown series prose can arouse readers' admiration.

References:

Baidu Encyclopedia-"My hometown is far away"

Prose describing hometown Mei Wen. com