All the way north

All the way north

Six classes of giant culverts

The world of rearview mirrors, far and farewell farewell. The position of your station is separated from me by tears. The mountain road has been retreating, and my tears are shattered outside the window. Stop the wolverine and let the mistakes be pure. --Inscription

Head north, north, and north again. Until the northernmost part, a small mountain village, where there are pure folk songs, endless mountains and pure mountain springs, there is a beautiful, pure friendship.

Before 2008, I didn't know what TV is, what is a computer, or even what friendship is. In this year, two major events happened. One was that my grandmother died, and the other was that my father brought me back to the county town that year. At first, I was indifferent to life and death for my emotionally close paralysis. I bit my lip and said to him, "I won't go." He said to me in his imperative tone: "Listen, I want to give you a complete home, you must go back with me."

For my father, I have a very mysterious feeling. Every time he comes to see me, I always throw a big bag to eat, toys. High on the top, watching me stare on the steps. At most, I said a few words to my grandmother, and I took the shuttle bus home.

Finally, my father left with anger. I walked to the far north, and I saw him sitting on the steps. He just loved me as quietly as a friend who was on the steps. No, he just has depression. The illness made him look at the blue sky every day, and he made his parents lose confidence in healing and let him know. So we got to know each other, and we liked to stare at the sky together and stare at everything. All the sundries are not with us, and all the troubles and sorrows are gone with the wind. It feels like being integrated with the heavens and the earth, and interacting with all kinds of things. We agreed that each person would write a hundred stories, write a hundred stories, and then exchange notes. The privilege of feeling the nature seems to belong to us alone. Only belong to that precious friendship. And we don't know that we are about to be separated, and we are still farewell.

A few days later, my father came back. In order to make the village people affordable, Dad rented a car. I took it back with a bright light. I cried, I was noisy, even kicking my father’s famous brand suit. Dad started from scratch. The tail was indifferent, just watching me quietly. When I was tired, I leaned against the window and looked at the rows of backward mountain views. Looking at the figure that he gradually shrunk in the rearview mirror.

I returned here a few years later, but this time I came back as an outsider. I searched the whole village but I didn't have him. I only found a pile of ruins in front of his house that had not been transported. I asked after I realized that the earthquake of 5.12 occurred a few months after I left. Because his house was still an old earth house, only his house collapsed in the epicenter, and then went with it. There are also three people in his family...

I returned home with full grief. At this time, Grandpa seemed to think of something. He took out a parcel from the box and said, "This is the child who played with you and asked me to give it to you." I quickly took it. Opening it, it is his handwriting "Don't forget our agreement - a hundred things" and the following is exactly what he wrote, one hundred, one. And my ninety-nine is one, I look at his hundred stories one by one, which records our story. Also with illustrations, very funny, but I can't laugh. On the last page, "I know that we may not meet, but I will always remember you, even forever." At this moment, I can't help anymore, tears falling like a downpour.

All the way to the north, with my grief, all the way north, leaving your season. All the way to the north, this is my last hundred things, and finally record our friendship.

Sixth grade of Xiaoren, Zhaoren Center, Changwu County, Xianyang, Shaanxi: Juzihan