One person, one basket, two mazars. A Mazar-e is relatively tall, with a basket for "food" (local dialect: snacks) spread out, and a Mazar-e is relatively low, with a "chair back" where you can sit down and rest.

I usually go shopping in the streets and markets. These things belong to my grandfather, and I carry them with both hands? Holding a basket in one hand and two mazes in the other.

I thought grandpa was great since I was a child. There were so many things in the basket that I shouted as I walked, "melon seeds seller, sugar balls-sesame seeds, twist-burnt peanuts ..." Someone bought them, so I stopped. Where there are many people, I simply set up a stall and stayed for a long time. Soon, grandpa's basket was surrounded by a group of adults and children.

Adults give children who buy "vegetables" and jump with a smile; If you don't buy it, you will pull the adult's skirt and pout and refuse to move; If adults are not around, you can only watch your mouth water.

On sundays when there is no school, or when autumn wheat is resting (there is no summer vacation in rural schools at that time), I will help my grandfather with Mazar and follow him around the street like a follower. Finally, you will always get a handful of melon seeds or some sugar balls as a reward.

I want to eat crispy dough twists most. Grandpa usually doesn't give it to me. Unless they are crushed, he will give me half to relieve my hunger.

Even so, I was the envy of my friends at that time. After school, there will always be a large group of "small followers" behind them, crowding around and hugging each other, which is impressive. Once I met a teacher who taught me math. Seeing my posture, I smiled and said, "You are a little emperor!" " Since then, I have been nicknamed "Little Emperor" in primary school.

2.

I don't know. When did Grandpa start? Walking in the street with a basket. Ask adults, they can't tell me the exact time, but tell me a story about my mother.

I was young at that time, more than one year old. Or overworked, or malnourished, my mother fell ill, red and swollen, with a high fever and groggy. At that time, my father was scared and at a loss. It was grandpa who dragged his mother to the county hospital with a flatbed. Unable to pay the hospitalization fee, he had to go home again. Finally, grandpa invited an earthwork doctor and cured him with ten doses of soup.

It was the early stage of reform and opening up. Farmers are still digging, never buying or selling, and there is no market in the village. When shopping for daily necessities, they have to walk three or four miles to the supply and marketing point of the store (the village where there are occasional parties).

Grandpa may have been moved by the fact that his mother had no money to see a doctor and began to think about making money. Later, I learned to sell needles and thread in the street, set up a basket of Mazar-i-Mazar, and began to sell "food" in the street.

Only melon seeds and peanuts were sold at first. Later, more and more candied meatballs, sesame cakes, twists and soft dates (a kind of little persimmon that looks like sheep excrement meatballs will turn black after weathering and frost) were sold, and most of them were "eaten" by children. Later, I switched to selling cigarettes.

No matter how far a person goes, he can't leave his distant childhood. Many people and things I met later can also be related to my childhood.

Speaking of cigarettes, I can't help thinking of some interesting things when I was a child.

Because I was curious about adults smoking, several friends followed, and there was no cigarette. They learn from the older children in the village, drag a lot of towel gourd seedlings from the dried towel gourd rack, then find the straight and thick part, take a piece with a knife or scissors, put it in their mouth, light it with a "match" and take a sip. The bitter and spicy taste went straight to the throat and nostrils and choked for a while. Later, we smoked a kind of tree root which is light in weight, made of silk pulp and has a hole in the middle, and the taste is also very choking.

Once, several people were discussing which kind of plant's rhizome was delicious. A friend who has smoked real cigarettes secretly told me that "Laifeng" cigarettes taste very sweet.

Seeing that the situation was not good, I stole a few "Laifeng" brand cigarettes from my grandfather's basket (at that time, cigarettes could be sold by roots), and then I hid them in the pit behind the village with my friends to make sure there was no one around, and then carefully distributed one to everyone. Look at the smoking buddy. First, he put the cigarette under his nose and smelled it, then licked it with his tongue. Then he closed his eyes, shook his head and said, "How sweet!"

Just as I was about to add something, suddenly there came a He Wen: "What are you doing? Hide here and steal cigarettes! " I turned my head and saw my grandfather standing on the edge of the pit, looking angry.

At home, every little friend is inevitably beaten and promises not to smoke again. Only I was punished for not eating for a week. Such a price completely broke my curiosity about smoking. Even in middle school and college, I had many tempting opportunities, but I didn't learn to smoke.

3.

If there is no assembly in the shop, grandpa will usually set up a stall in Sancha Street in the center of our village. It is also a gathering place where the old people in the village bask in the sun, chat and women braid their hair (a kind of wheat straw product in the northern countryside) and walk around.

Grandpa's home is not far from our village primary school, but he has never set up a stall to sell goods at the school gate. I couldn't figure it out at the time. Now I understand that children who go to school have no money in their pockets and cannot sell it at the door.

I remember that the melon seeds at that time were a handful of five cents. The concept of "a handful" is a handful that my grandfather grasped with his hands. This is a convention and a childlike innocence.

I clearly remember that grandpa took five cents, put it in the cloth pocket hanging on the edge of the basket, put his hand into the plastic bag containing melon seeds, and caught a big one with melon seeds between his fingers, which immediately reminded me of a sentence-bared his teeth!

At this time, people who buy melon seeds will "hold" their hands together, or tear the pockets on their clothes wide for fear that the melon seeds will fall. Even so, a few melon seeds will be lost in the process of catching.

Whenever this happens, grandpa will always pinch a pinch of melon seeds with three fingers and put it in his hand or pocket, and the buyer of melon seeds will be happy and leave happily.

When grandpa is not at home, grandma helps to sell goods and catch melon seeds. But her "one hand" is too small, and she always shakes a few times in the process of grasping. So people who bought melon seeds later saw that only grandma was at home, turned around and left, and bought them while grandpa was at home.

In recent years, when I went home for the New Year, the village was "small". From time to time, I talked about these old things, and there were beautiful memories inside and outside.

4.

Most of the things in grandpa's basket are imported from the city. Our village is not too far from the county seat, but it also has 18 miles of land.

At that time, the traffic was underdeveloped, and it was all riding or walking. Grandpa can't ride a bike, and because he wants to buy goods, he chooses to pull a cart. Pull the only flatbed car in the family, we call it a platoon car. Grandpa said that it was the property divided by the team when it was produced to the household.

Once, grandpa happened to buy goods for me on holiday. I've been clamoring for it since the first day. Grandpa may think that I am ten years old and can help him pull the cart, so I agreed.

I was so excited that I fell asleep very late. My grandfather yelled at me before I made it clear. Grandpa took some bags, put a "barrier" in front of the car and a pot of water to drink on the road, and set off.

Seeing that I was still awake, Grandpa asked me to put a bag on my head in the car to sleep. At that time, it was still a dirt road, and the queues were bumpy all the way. I fell asleep soon after I left the village.

From our village, we have to go through nine villages to get to the south gate. When I woke up, I asked my grandfather where he was. Grandpa said that he had walked through five villages. Look at the east again, and the darkness is already red.

I felt a little cold, so I asked to come down and help grandpa pull the cart. Grandpa said he would ask me for help when he got the goods back. I insisted on experiencing it, but my grandfather had to stop and teach me to put on the harness, hold the handlebar with both hands and bend forward.

The car is moving! I played harder and gave grandpa a ride. Grandpa just sat for a little while and said, "My legs are numb. I want to come down and walk. " I was a little tired, so I replaced the rickshaw driver with my grandfather.

I don't know how long it took. In the city, it is already dawn, and businesses on both sides of the road have opened their doors to welcome guests. The breakfast shop is already steaming, and diners sit around the table in twos and threes, eating steamed buns and drinking hot soup.

This is my first time in town, and everything I see is rare. Grandpa introduced me all the way. This sells cloth and that plays with foreign iron. What we are going to is a shop that wholesales melon seeds and sugar balls, and makes sesame cakes and twists. Those business grandfathers have been dealing with each other for many years, and they are old friends. The accounts are settled once a quarter.

Grandpa looked at me and stared at the breakfast shop, speechless. Knowing that I was hungry, he said, "Good! Eat your stomach first. " Say that finish, he parked the platoon car directly in front of a burning hot porridge shop.

At that breakfast, I ate as much as my grandfather, a bowl of rice porridge and a plate of free pickles. It was the first time I had breakfast in a breakfast shop, and it was also the first time I ate fire, drank rice porridge with meat and burped. It smells like rice and meat all day.

Throughout the morning, my grandfather and I pulled a row of trolleys and shuttled back and forth between wholesale stores until we bought all the goods we wanted.

Maybe breakfast gave me strength. Everywhere I went, I rushed to help grandpa move the goods to the car. Those bosses praised me for being sensible and capable after knowing that I was grandpa's great-grandson. He also said that grandpa would cook good food for me at noon. I worked harder.

At noon, grandpa took me to eat the famous roast chicken and red sesame seed cake in Nanguan. Grandpa didn't eat roast chicken. He just tore off a big chicken leg for me and said to take the rest home.

I still remember that big bowl of red sesame seed cake clearly. The white of the braise in soy sauce cake is a little brown, white bean sprouts with green peppers, a bowl full of oil flowers, and even a top. After eating a big chicken leg, I can only finish the top part, and the rest is in grandpa's stomach.

Later, I watched the costume martial arts drama many times, and the protagonist always called the mid-way accommodation and eating "topping". At this time, I will think of the top of the bowl of red sesame seeds cake.

I stopped taking the bus on the way back. Although grandpa said it several times, I said I was too full to digest. Grandpa looked at me and smiled, but I didn't insist.

On the way back, when I passed the seventh village, there was a big slope. Grandpa pulled the car, and I pushed it hard behind, but I still didn't get up. Grandpa had a rest, took out a hemp rope from the bag in the car, tied one end to the iron ring on one side of the handlebar, and put the other end in a larger ring on my body, pulling the button in the middle.

I pulled the hemp rope beside me, bent forward like my grandfather, alternately pushed my feet backwards, exhausted all my strength, and finally pulled the car up the big slope with the help of my father. After going back for a long time, grandpa always told people that I was in charge of the uphill.

5.

I don't know how much money grandpa can earn from his "eating" basket. Besides, rural families were not rich at that time, so it is estimated that they would earn some pocket money. However, I usually need to buy a notebook pencil and ask my grandfather for money. He always gives it to me without saying anything. You know, my uncle's family has two brothers about my age.

From that time when I went to the city with my grandfather to buy goods, my grandfather and I have been there twice, including going to a neighboring village four miles away. That was grandpa's new discovery. Twist is delicious and the purchase price is cheap.

Several purchases have brought me closer to my grandfather. Grandpa asked me to sleep in the bullpen with him at night. Cattle have just been bought, so we should watch them at night and add forage in the middle of the night.

In the evening, after finishing my homework, I ran to the north house where cattle were raised, got into the warm bed, opened my grandfather's newly bought "play box", and listened to the storytelling-the romance of Sui and Tang Dynasties, while smelling the smell of cow dung and forage. I still remember the story of Wagangzhai, which was the best time I spent with my grandfather.

Soon, something happened. Let my young heart be deeply hurt.

Just in time for the busy farming season, grandpa? Take the basket out and walk the streets. Grandma often helps in the fields. At this time, the yard is often empty. Coincidentally, during that time, grandma accidentally put away the money in the cloth pocket hanging on the basket. As a result, one day the money disappeared.

At first, grandma thought she was wrong. Who knows that I lost money again in a few days, even the money my grandmother hid in the rice jar was gone.

Finally, my grandmother, who couldn't find the reason, actually suspected me. He not only called me to the front for interrogation, but also ran to my class in the village primary school. In front of classmates and teachers, he said that I stole money, and that I had been hurting me all these years, and that I was a baiwenhang.

I was a ten-year-old child, so after this scene. I can't refute it, nor can I prove myself. I can only hide all my grievances in my heart. During that time, I was in a trance in class, and my teachers and classmates looked at me differently.

When my grandfather asked me, I told all the things that I secretly crushed because I wanted to eat twist, including stealing cigarettes. I have said many times that I am greedy and steal "vegetables", but I will never steal money from my grandparents.

Even so, if I don't find out the truth for one day, I will take the blame for one more day.

It's been almost a month since it happened. One morning, at the end of school, grandma suddenly appeared in my classroom. Seeing her coming straight to me, I began to be afraid and called grandma with tears in my voice. The teacher in that class happened to be my aunt. She saw it and quickly stepped forward to stop it. I only heard grandma shout, "boy!" " I wronged you-"I shed tears first. Only then did I see grandma holding a big bag of "food" in her hand.

Eating the "rice" my grandmother gave me, on the way home with my grandmother, I realized that this is the famous "hardworking baby" in the village-cauldron. It's him. Every time his grandparents are not at home, he jumps into the yard, and then gets into the house from the narrow gap above the door where only the child's body can fit, rummaging through the closet and stealing the money.

At home, after listening to grandma's speech, I cried with a loud "wow-"and spit out all the grievances I have suffered these days. Grandma shed tears while hugging me tightly, and one hand kept touching and comforting me on my back.

6.

After the big country was exposed for stealing money, it was beaten by its mother with a belt. At that time, he had dropped out of school. When this happened, his mother sent him to his father who worked in the city. He took some more money to his grandfather, who said he wanted nothing, only that he was afraid of ruining the child.

A big country is a famous "struggling baby" in the village, and everyone in this village knows it. The father of a big country is an able person in the village. He has worked in the city for a long time and gives him pocket money every time he comes back. I grew up with a bad temper and pocket money in my hand. Every day, he brings a group of "hard-working babies". Fight with Dongtou today and steal melons from Xitou tomorrow. His mother can't control him at all.

For a while, his father didn't come back for several months because of busy projects, and all his pocket money was spent. Because I often go to grandpa to buy "food", I have a bad idea. However, because he knew that stealing money was better than stealing vegetables, he didn't tell anyone that he did it alone. Some * * * stole it three times, and my grandmother caught it red-handed for the third time.

His head just got out of the door and his back was still hanging on the door. His grandmother said, "Who? What are you doing? " I was so scared that I plunged into it on the spot. Later, I kowtowed to my grandmother and begged her to forgive him and not tell his mother. Grandma wouldn't listen to him, so she grabbed him by the ear and sent him to his mother.

To tell the truth, when I was nine years old, I also struggled with big countries for a while. At that time, there was no homework at night and no TV at home. In the evening, we play games in groups by moonlight.

Daguo is several years older than me. He doesn't play games like play house and hide-and-seek. He organized us younger people and gave each of us a bamboo pole. Of course, bamboo poles are also pulled from other people's fences.

He told us to stand in a row with bamboo poles. He stood in front like a general and said that he would imitate the ancient army to fight. The target of the attack was children playing games at the eastern end of the village.

So, in the east of the village, in the village, with the "official pit" as the boundary, we had a "stone-throwing" war with the children until both sides were smashed, and the adults found out. Finally, those injured children, led by their parents, ran to his house to complain to his mother. He was beaten again, apologizing and adding medical expenses.

Besides fighting with people, he also led us to catch sparrows and roast them. That night, he took a flashlight and led us to the power distribution room in the west of the village to catch sparrows. At night, when the sparrow is illuminated by a flashlight, it stays there and doesn't know how to fly. You can catch it with one hand. That night, a * * * caught three sparrows, made a fire nearby, put on the cleaned sparrows with wire, and baked them slowly.

Of course, we will not and dare not do something about sparrows. He did it himself, pulled out his hair by hand, took out his internal organs with a knife and baked them on the fire. Listening to the sparrows sizzling and smelling the burnt meat, I feel a little sick. At dinner, he asked me to eat, but I didn't eat. A few others vomited after eating, saying it smelled. He is the only one who eats black.

I haven't seen him since the money stealing incident.

7.

Grandpa is a kind, gentle and enthusiastic person. Grandma's personality is more urgent, but she is also a knife mouth and a tofu heart.

Grandparents because? The income of the vegetable basket has always been good, and it can subsidize the grandchildren to buy school equipment from time to time. But it was such a life, and grandma didn't enjoy it for long before she had a heart attack and died.

When grandma left, we had moved to a new home. That night, I had gone to bed. I vaguely heard hurried footsteps outside the house, and then I heard that grandma was dying, which was an emergency. Mom and dad left in a hurry and never came home that night. I fell asleep crying. Although I don't quite understand what it feels like to die, the emotion determined by blood relationship is uncontrollable.

After grandma left, grandpa moved to my uncle's house, which was also decided when we separated. Also assigned to the uncle's house are two aunts, a relative. My elder sister-in-law gave it to my family and the bus driver.

At that time, I didn't know why the family should be divided. The property in the family should be divided, and the old people should be divided, even the relatives should be divided. I have established a good family relationship.

It never rains but it pours. Not long after grandma died, something happened to grandpa.

It happened when grandpa set up a stall in Sancha Street in the village. Several people sitting with him (chatting) said that if they sit well, they will fall to the ground, the basket will be overturned, and melon seeds and peanuts will be scattered all over the floor.

Sent to the township health center, said it was a stroke, let go home and rest.

From then on, grandpa never stood up and lay in bed for several months.

Because I have to take turns serving food, I can sleep in a room with my grandfather. However, grandpa's stroke affected his brain, especially his language nerve. Later, I couldn't speak, and my mouth was always uluuluulu, so I couldn't explain it clearly. Grandpa's basket was placed in the corner of the room, and then it was covered with dust.

Grandpa lay at home for three months and left, which happened to be a year after grandma died. Now think about it, at that time, I was still poor and didn't know how to go to a big hospital. Maybe I can stand up and continue? Walking in the street with a basket.

After grandpa died, a family offered to use grandpa's basket. He also said that everyone in the village missed it. There is no "food" stall in Sancha Street, and adults and children feel a little "out of the office" (local dialect: I feel panic because something is missing).

Later, grandpa's basket was handed down from street to street for several years. Later, there was an agency in the village. Besides eating, there are all kinds of daily necessities. ? The business of walking around the streets with baskets has also withdrawn from the market.

That basket full of my childhood stories, I still don't know where it went.