My neighbor asked me maliciously, "Linlin, where did your mother go?" I answered in two words: dead.
I like painting, and the world is presented to me, full of joy and hostility.
Dad is so drunk that he goes out to work, plays cards and drinks every day, and occasionally scolds her and me.
Gradually, I began to turn a blind eye to him. My attitude angered him. If he became angry from embarrassment, he would slap me. He said, "I owed you in my last life. You are like your mother. "
I stood in front of the mirror with red fingerprints on my face, and I said to myself, who wants to be like her?
I sat on the street corner all night. The stars are very high and far away, and the last faint light has dimmed.
I found myself crying. I didn't cry when she left, as if this person had never existed in my life.
But she's here. She is always here. I clearly remember her smiling face when she woke me up, and I still remember the smell of three fresh stuffing jiaozi in her bag.
I know I shouldn't hold a grudge against her. If I am defeated, poor and depressed, I will run away.
However, I still hate her and hate that she betrayed this family.
2
14 birthday, I didn't expect her to appear at the school gate.
Her messy curly hair straightened and hung over her shoulders; She is wearing a narrow skirt, a white gauze shirt and a floral shirt, as bright as the autumn sunshine.
I heard that she married a widowed teacher. No wonder she dresses like a virtuous woman. Her happiness stung me.
I walked past her with a straight face, and she chased me and cried my voice. She grabbed me: "Linlin, I know you hate me ... but today is your birthday, and I want to take you home for dinner."
Go home? I looked her straight in the eye with a sneer: "You can enjoy your happiness and stay away from me!" "
I walked quickly to the shade. I don't want to be vulnerable.
I started to have a high fever that night, and I really wanted to hold her hand when I was confused. When I was sick when I was a child, she sat by my bed, my hand was in her palm, and she slept soundly. Nightmare after nightmare, I refused to wake up. Lilacs bloom into a purple ocean, and I move forward endlessly. Suddenly, dark clouds were gathering. She ran under an umbrella, and I jumped over the shiny blisters on the road with her. ...
Dad stood in front of my bed. I saw the calm sadness on his face for the first time. He said, "She's coming to pick you up. Go with her. The house is locked, and I will pick you up when I earn money. "
I asked, "Where are you going?"
Dad took a puff at his cigarette and said, "Korea."
three
She didn't pick me up. I go to school alone and live alone.
She came to the house. There are more vases and daisies in the room. There are three kinds of stuffing in the kitchen, jiaozi. I boiled the water and drove them into the boiling water. Steaming hot, tears blurred my vision.
She became the snail girl in the family. Home is really like home, the windows are bright and clean, there is a good smell of washing powder, and there is her smell.
I have the underwear she bought at my bedside, light pink with lace. If she hadn't left, or I would have been shy and walked into an underwear store holding her hand to choose underwear? Joy stayed on my face for 5 seconds, and I began to write her a note. I said, "I have a good life alone. I will not degenerate or get worse. Please don't bother me again. "
I was very upset all morning after leaving a note. Would I be happier if she really didn't come after reading the note?
At noon, I ran home, the note was still there, and there was no change at home. I am relieved that she didn't come.
I tore up the note and put a new painting of mine on the table with her on it; On second thought, the meaning was too obvious. I opened the drawer and put the painting in.
I study painting in the extracurricular group of school. That teacher can draw a sand painting, draw a picture with three times five divided by two with fine sand on a piece of glass, and then it becomes another picture in the blink of an eye.
I pointed to the picture that disappeared in the blink of an eye and said, "I want to learn this."
Strangely, she didn't see the note, but she didn't come for a long time.
four
It is difficult to sprinkle sand into a painting, but it is easy to erase it. Fine sand overflows from your fingers, often in a mess. I sometimes get in a daze. I don't know if she was sad to read my note or what happened.
The teacher who taught sand painting reprimanded me. He said: "A person has a picture in his heart and a picture in his hand. Your heart is full of hatred and complaints. If you don't love the world, you will never draw well. "
When I walked into the street with a big schoolbag on my back, I saw her feet wrapped in thick gauze. She is much older and her eyes are red and swollen.
She took out a piece of paper with Seoul printed on it. My heart vibrated.
Something happened to dad. He was smuggled to Seoul, was discovered by the police, and had an accident during his escape.
My eyes went black and I didn't know anything.
When I woke up, my hand was in hers. I didn't open my eyes, and tears trickled out.
She said, "Linlin, you still have me."
She didn't come in those days. She didn't serve me soup, and hot soup spilled on her feet. ...
That day, I cooked porridge and mixed small pickles. She ate slowly and intently. I am stubborn. I won't go to her house, and I won't meet her later husband. But I can talk to her.
She said, "I heard that you studied sand painting and you are very talented."
My eyes fell on her face: "Who said that?"
Her face was a little red: "I went to school, your teacher said."
When I went to learn painting again, the teacher who could draw sand paintings called me aside. He said, "Linlin, I think I need to introduce myself ..."
He is her husband now. My hostile eyes melted into his smile. I know he is a good man.
He said, "Why should two people who could have been happy torture each other? We can give her a surprise if you like. "
I hesitated, and the cicada in the tree kept barking. All right!
That day, he and I made a picture in that small living room: winding paths, small wooden houses, small fences in front of the house, and small flowers. ...
I saw her turn to wipe her tears.
In fact, many things can be erased in the heart like sand paintings, such as resentment, such as sadness, such as the noise and rebellion in youth. ...
The greatest charm of sand painting is that you can erase it and paint it again.
In fact, you can live if you want to. We can erase the haze in our hearts and welcome the sunshine again. Wen/Feng is the best.