Come back home

The three brothers are all in their fifties. This time they put all the things at hand and took their mother back to home during the Ching Ming Festival. In the hall of Hung Hom Railway Station, crowds are crowded. Most of them are carrying backpacks, carrying bags, pushing huge suitcases with rollers, and supporting young people. They are preparing to take the Kowloon-Canton Railway to the north. In this rolling red dust, my mother suddenly stopped.

She frowned and said, "What is this?"

My brother used to hold her hand all the way. At this time, I had to stop and say, "This is Hong Kong. We are going to take the train."

Mother showed a confused look, "I don't recognize it," she said. "I want to go home."

I whispered to my brother, "Go fast, the train is going to open, and I have to go through customs."

The younger brother who was a doctor had walked behind with both hands like an attending physician. He didn’t wear a white robe. When he stepped forward, he said to his mother, "This is the way to take you home. No. Wrong. Let's go, or you can't go home." When you talk, your face doesn't have an expression, you don't see any emotions or emotions, but your tone is habitually with authority. Thirty years of professional training made him deeply hidden in front of his father's dying bed.

Mother did not look at him, eyes staring at the grindstone floor, half-compromising, semi-threately replied: "Okay, then take me home immediately." She stepped away. Looking at her from behind, her body was so thin, her back was a little camel, her hand was held by both sons on both sides, her steps were shattered, and a small step followed by a small step.

While walking with her in the countryside, she saw her stepping on her feet and walking. I said, "Mom, don't walk like a mouse. Come, the road is very flat. I will hold your hand and won't fall. Try it. Open, you see - "I put my feet in front and made a stupid soldier kicking the posture. "Look, the feet are greatly out, the road is flat, don't be afraid." She really put her feet out, But did not take a few steps, but bowed his head and walked.

Seen from her eyes, is the ground uneven? From her eyes, can every step be empty? The younger brother explained on the phone: "The shrinking of the brain, or medication, will cause uncertainty in space. sense."

After the walk, the sun fell to the back of the Dawu Mountain, and the pink Yunxia rushed into the sky. In the oil painting-like dusk glory, we returned to her bedroom. She looked around in the bedroom and said, "Where is this?" I pointed to the entire row of bachelor's and doctor's photos on the wall and said, "It's all photos of your children, of course it is your family." ”

She walked close to the wall, looked up at the photo, and looked at it from left to right. For a long while, looking back at me, I couldn’t say whether it was sad or empty. I felt as if there was a small cockroach in the window, and the sinking sun touched the ridgeline of Dawu Mountain and spewed the sky. At that moment, did the small animals in the forest also have sounds?

Still not turning on the light, she stood on the side of the white wall, like a black shadow, said faintly: "...not recognized." The last shimmer on the Dawu Mountain, crossed the curtain and shot in the curtain. Just reflected her gray hair.

The train slipped open, and the world outside the window swiftly retreated. As if someone had not said hello, they pressed the film film "Fast Rewind". I don't know if it was a quick turn to the past or a quick turn to the future. I saw it disappear from the scene.

Because it was a late bus, the majority of the travellers sat down on their heads and fell into a quiet place, letting the train rushing forward to decide everything. Mother grabbed the back of the front seat and stood up in trembling. She looked at the front and a column of seats stretched out into the blurred distance. She turned and looked to the rear, the door of the train was tightly closed, and the depth behind the door could not be seen. She looked out the window on both sides of the carriage, and the curtains were pulled. Only the turbulent light was suddenly and suddenly, and the time was strong and weak. As the speed of the train was like lightning, it came in. She clutched the back of the chair to maintain her balance, and then she began to move forward. I followed suit step by step, one hand on her shoulder, preventing her from falling, but she saw her forcefully open my hand and turned and said, "You let me go, I want to go home, it’s dark, I want to go back. Home!" Her eyes were filled with tears and her voice was awkward.

I took her into my arms, pressed her head to my chest, and hugged her tightly. Maybe my body's warmth would give her a little peace of mind. I said in her ear: "This train is going to take you home, but it hasn't arrived yet, it will be home soon, really."

The younger brother came over and we looked at each other silently. Yes, we all know: the "home" that my mother wants to return is not a home that has a postal code or a postman. The "home" she wants to return is not a space, but a period of time. In the envelope of that time, the young children are chasing laughter, the kitchen is conveying the aroma of fried fish, the husband is holding her eyes behind her and asking her to guess who is outside, someone shouting outside the door. Time-limited delivery, take the seal to "...

Mom is the traveler who came here with the "Time Machine" but can no longer find a return trip.