Once upon a time, moss

At that time, the countryside was still very poor, all year round the villagers sold their faces to the land and their backs to heaven. The tea hedges are not partitions, the red silk rope is full of tangerine like the love of the village. The common path is a dirt road full of flowers and plants, sharing a well. The well is always full of fresh, green water, watering the plants more green, the love for the homeland is closer, the children’s dreams are also growing bigger.
At that time, the countryside was still very poor, all year round the villagers sold their faces to the land and their backs to heaven. The tea hedges are not partitions, and the vines are full of tangerines like village love. The common path is a dirt road full of flowers and plants, sharing a well. The well is always full of fresh, green water, watering the plants more green, the love for the homeland is closer, the children’s dreams are also growing bigger.

Old village well… On hot sunny days, when it is hot, the well is only a little less, the sudden showers fill the well. The well surface is paved with fired bricks. The afternoon was full of laughter and laughter from the women, mothers, sisters, brothers and sisters carrying the laundry. The yard of the well is always wet, with moss on the edge of the yard. One day, my aunt went to the well to fetch water, avoiding her mother who was washing clothes, so she went close to the edge of the yard when she was pounced by a frog in the innocent laughter of her friends. I fell a few times, peeling off a large patch of moss, it was very painful, but I still tried because I was afraid that my mother would worry, tomorrow my feet will be scratched and swollen. However, only a few days of moss covered as if not wanting to leave the well. So on rainy days, my father wouldn’t let me and my sister go to the well, just afraid that the moss would hurt the kids. On a clear sunny morning, the friends gathered together to the well to pick moss to make fighting chickens. Crisp, carefree laughter from time to time. The soft, cool moss has made many children slip and fall, their foreheads are swollen, their clothes are covered with moss. One day, he was scolded again because he did not obey, escaped from napping to go out to the well to play with his friends, chased around the well and then stepped on the moss lying on the ground, his face was smeared but still forced a smile to cover the problem. pain. Growing up, we left the village to study, and then got married in a faraway place. Haven’t visited the village well for a long time. The smooth paved road replaces the old dirt road. Tap water, pump wells in every house should have a sad well. There was also a time when the power went out, the house was not ready yet, so I went to the well to draw a few buckets of water for temporary use. How do children now feel the cool water when bathing in the well? Then go away from the village well! Well, no one does laundry anymore. The moss died a lot, each patch was curled on the ground. When I return to my hometown, I often go to the well to draw water to wash my face, drop the bucket down, there are no dark green mosses mixed in the clear blue water. The way back is no longer the path of the grass. I don’t understand why in the past they liked to go back and forth so that the grass was filled with nostalgia, a reminder, a silly love when standing blankly looking at each other, meeting those eyes as clear as well water but the grass without pinning more wishes… There are afternoons when we sit down to remove the grass and let it go with the wind… Now the old neighborhood has changed. The road no longer has a place for grass to grow. The children of the past are now like birds flying everywhere. Someone flew to the western sky. Everyone is busy with life. I don’t know if they think like me. I owe this land a lot, a place that is always full of laughter, a place where I always receive the fullest love, a peaceful place where anyone who goes far will return. This afternoon it was very windy, roaming with a bicycle to the dyke to receive the fresh and peaceful air of the homeland. Missing the grass flowers sewn by the roadside, remembering the moss-stoned chickens, remembering the innocent laughter of friends, remembering someone else’s eyes… Roundabout and then back. Go to the well to borrow a bucket to wash your face, slowly feel the water seep into the cool skin. Looking down at the well, well, there was still a beautiful little moss trying to cling to the strong ferns. I was dumbfounded… Well, the moss still exists there. Glittering smile, look at yourself to see the moss at that time, why remember it strangely.