Walking into the courtyard is like walking into a country that forgets worries. This small world carries more of my beautiful childhood, which is always full of laughter and laughter, without sorrow, and I don't know what sorrow is.

I can clearly remember what kind of tree used to be in the yard, where there was a well, where there was my desk, and I sat under the big tree, sat on a small bench, lay on the table, and with the help of my mother, I learned to write my name. And so on and so forth, all the past events were played out in front of my eyes like movie shots, scene by scene. Even I could clearly hear a lot of things my mom and dad say to me again, "Xiaolan, it's time to eat." "Xiaolan, you must study hard, go outside and take a look, don't be like many children in our village, you can only stay at home and continue to guard a farmland, with your back to the loess and facing the sky. "Xiaolan, you see that your mother bought you a new dress today, you can try it." "Hahaha, look at your face, where are you running, crazy like this? It's all mud. ”

These words are like a small sun, shining warmly on the tip of my heart. I opened my arms, closed my eyes and raised my head, letting the sun shine on my face, arms and even my whole body in the sky at the corners of the courtyard, as if I was soaking in a hot spring with a comfortable temperature, allowing the warm spring water to envelop my body and nourish my soul through the vicissitudes of life. Yes, after all the vicissitudes of life, this word was so foreign to me before, and after experiencing so many things, it has left a mark on my heart.

Home is a place where I can heal my wounds, and I have just returned, and the wounds that had been wounded and bleeding have begun to heal slowly, and I seem to feel the tingling and itching of the wounds growing new flesh, which is very comfortable.

While I was immersed in my own world and feeling my own feelings, my parents had already helped me put my luggage and took my daughter in the kitchen to start cooking.

The kitchen is still in its original location, but the difference is that the old rough stone house has been replaced by a new brick house, and the former one has been replaced by two rooms, one for storing grain and other farm tools used for farm work, and one for cooking.

The kitchen is also completely different from the original structure, it used to be two pot for the fire, but now it has become one, and there is a small bench behind the fire table, which is specially made for the fire, because it has been deformed because of age, but it has not been abandoned.

Behind the small bench there are a lot of small branches, as well as corn stalks and wheat straw, which we often use to make fires. I remember when I was a child, every time my father was burning the fire, I would also move a small bench to sit next to him, watch him break the small wooden sticks one by one and put them into the stove, and watch these small wooden sticks be slowly burned by the fire, from little by little small flames to high flames, and when these yellow flames lick the bottom of the pot greedily, a trace of white smoke will begin to rise from the side of the pot stove erected above.

As time goes on, the flames get bigger and bigger, and the whole stove will be shrouded in smoke, and then the kitchen will be filled with steamed bread, corn, sweet potato, greens, meat, all kinds of aromas are magically brewed to seduce my taste buds, often the rice is not completely ready, I can't help but want to secretly taste a few bites.

If you get the permission of your parents, the feeling of happiness is like winning the jackpot, more like getting a special reward and enjoying some kind of privilege, full of infinite superiority and satisfaction.

I was always very curious when I saw my dad burning the fire, and sometimes I couldn't help but be eager to try it, and I had to ask my dad to let me try it too. At first, my father always didn't allow it, because I was worried that I would burn myself if I didn't get it right, but after being pestered by me for a long time, my father lost his temper. I tried to follow my father's example and break the little sticks one by one, and then stuffed them into the stove, but for some reason, I followed the same method, but I couldn't get the same effect that my father burned. At this time, I realized that burning fire is also a science, and whether or not it can be burned and burned vigorously is a seemingly simple technical job that requires patience and methods.

When I returned to my seat and saw my father's relaxed appearance, I couldn't help but feel respect.

Lighting the fire seems to be Dad's patent, and every time he cooks, as long as Dad is at home, that small bench will always be his place. Mom was busy on the pot, kneading and kneading on the board, cutting and chopping, and the two of them also cooperated quite tacitly.

When I was a child, in the winter, because of the lack of materials, the house was not tightly closed, and the wind leaked everywhere, so it seemed to be extremely cold. When it was cold and frozen, I preferred to sit next to my dad and stand guard at the door of the stove, because it would roast my frozen little hands. The residual heat emitted by the fire made my whole body warm, as if I was in a heated condition.

At that time, heating was a very luxurious term for families like us, and it was a very distant legend. We often hear from the adults in the village that only the very wealthy families in the city can enjoy this kind of special treatment in winter, which used to be my distant yearning.

And although I was just sitting in front of a stove, I felt the unique sense of superiority countless times, and at that moment I seemed to have transformed into a princess in the distant yearning, enjoying the best treatment in the world in a humble place.

So, I would happily hold my father's arm, raise my head, and innocently and happily say, "Dad, we have heating in our house!"

My dad would pinch my nose and pat me on the head and say, "Haha, yes, we have heating too!"

When my busy mother hears our conversation, she often says, "Yes, this is our heating, and it's a natural card." With that, she put down what she was holding, walked over to her father, stretched out a pair of hands that were stiff from washing dishes and vegetables, and flipped up and down against the flames in the stove. Soon, I saw a layer of white mist rising from each of her fingers and palms.

It was then that I took a closer look at my mother's hands, and found that her hands had become rough and stiff over the years, covered with deep lines, and various small scars, and there was a yellow callus at the base of each finger. I can't help but touch it with my own hands and ask, "Mom, why are your hands like this??Does it hurt?"

My mother lowered her head according to my eyes, looked at it herself a few times, and replied with a smile: "It doesn't hurt, the hands of the croppers are like this, with calluses, grab the hoe, and other tools, it won't hurt." ”

As time went by, my mother's words and the calluses on her hands were deeply remembered in my heart.

The kitchen is different from the original is the addition of a special stove for gas and a variety of cooking pots and steamers, and also set up indoor water pipes and pools, no longer washing a dish or brushing a pot and pan as before, you have to carry the basin to the well in the yard, and cook every day like a rush to run back and forth in the yard many times, which saves a lot of time.

I stood outside the door, the sound of stir-frying in the kitchen, like a little song, humming in the pot, and the unique aroma of chili mixed with pork belly had penetrated into my nostrils. I quickly retracted my thoughts, walked in, and as soon as I reached the door, I saw my daughter pinching her nose, bending over and coughing violently because of the smell of chili peppers.

"Don't come in, hurry up and take Chenchen out, the peppers are too choking!" said to my mother, who was turning vegetables in the pot with a spatula, with sweat on her head and coughing twice.

"Chenchen, you go out first, mom will help grandma cook." I walked up to my daughter and said.

As soon as the words came out, the father who was helping to chop vegetables in front of the board immediately said: "When you get home, with me and your mother, you just have to wait to eat, so you don't need to do it." You take Chenchen out, the chili smell is too strong, adults are choking, let alone children. ”

At the insistence of my parents, I took Chenchen out of the kitchen and stood at the door watching them busy in full swing, as if the outside world had nothing to do with us at this moment, and only the meal in front of me was the most important thing.

My mother didn't mean to walk away when she saw me, and while wiping the sweat on her head, she kept asking, "Look at what else you and Chenchen want to eat, and ask your dad to buy it quickly." ”

As soon as my mother's words fell, I didn't speak, and my father continued: "I know that Chenchen likes to eat pork ribs, I will go to the market early tomorrow morning, find Lao Zhang to buy fresh ones, and make up for you, you see how thin you are." ”

"Dad, where did I lose weight? Chenchen is okay. ”

"Also, there is a supply of fresh mutton in the supermarket every day, and I will come back tomorrow morning to buy a leg of mutton, girls should eat more mutton to replenish their qi, you see that your face is yellow, many things in the big city are not as fresh as our countryside. ”

"Dad, where am I yellow? No. ”

"By the way, Lao Shen, Xiaolan likes to eat Jufeng grapes, you go to the supermarket to buy more. And that apple, cantaloupe or something, and buy some snacks, they all love to eat. ”

"Dad, Mom, you're going to raise me like a pig. ”

"Hahaha!" the daughter couldn't help but laugh as she listened to it.