【Children's hands are not clean】1982.11.25 (rainy)

Yesterday I wanted to write about what happened in the morning, on the way to school.

The light rain was like countless fine flour fluttering and swaying, and another lovely child, the fourth boy of Brother Yuedong (the funny thing is that I still don't know his name, and he wouldn't have known that I was his cousin at the age of fifteen), entered my diary.

He was seven or eight years younger than me, and when I met him, he was always on his way to and from school.

Yesterday, the road was slippery, and he trotted after me with an umbrella, so I slowed down my usual pace in order to take care of him.

He ran very happily, and the boy who usually didn't get much attention from people was delighted.

When I usually meet him, I always like to tease him: "Siwa, come, I'll give you something." He would run up to me expectantly, stretching out his small, black and dirty hands, and I would often have to smile hypocritically and put the little stationery back in my bag.

"Wash your hands tomorrow and I'll give it to you. But every time we met, his hands were so dirty.

I teased him countless times, but he never got anything from me. Of course, I don't have anything I can give.

Why did he trust me so much when I teased him so many times and didn't give him a single thing, and he came running happily whenever I called?

Is it that in his immaculate heart, he has not yet developed a feeling of distrust? Or does he also know that it is not good for him to have dirty hands, and he will not be dissatisfied with me in the slightest?

I know why I love to tease him, his body is dirty, but his temperament is so innocent, innocent as well water. His eyes are so clear, there is not a trace of doubt, and his sincerity shows his innocent nature.

He wasn't as smart as my other niece, and he wasn't as active, and he rarely communicated with others. He often walks alone and is not very associated with others.

After coming into contact with him, I know that he is not complicated, and even more simple than the children next to him.

He can open his hands to me every time, he really wants it all the time, he doesn't have the slightest evil thoughts. He didn't really know what he wanted, and he couldn't express it at the age of seven or eight.

After a lot of experience, I finally understood that what he wanted was not anything, even if I gave him a random stone on the side of the road, he would be very happy.

What he really wants is the care of an adult, and the recognition of his existence outside the family.

On my way home from school the night before yesterday, I gave him seven abacus beads strung with a few yarns of different colors. It also taught him how to disassemble and how to connect in series.

The bead string is a favorite toy for children of his age, mostly used to play the game of 'repairing the house', and can also be used to make games such as 'stacking', 'rolling marbles' and 'guessing the number'. It is also a very proud accessory to wear on the hand.

When he received the gift, he was happy, he was interested, and he made new requests. At the same time, he held out his hands and asked me to draw a watch with him.

I'm also very happy, because he has further recognized me, so he will be willing to be closer to me.

But I have been a person who is more rational than emotional since I was a child, so I didn't paint him, but took the opportunity to say to him: "Go back and wash your hands, and I'll paint with you tomorrow!"

When it came to 'tomorrow', that is, yesterday morning, I had just caught up with him under the overpass, and I asked, "Fourth, have you washed your hands?"

He was a little embarrassed, "Wash." "I don't have the confidence to say it, but I still stretch out my hands to show me.

Where is this considered washing? Only the 'floating dust' and 'blowing sand' have been washed away. To be honest, the hands are like the 'shovels' that have been killed.

I turned my face and deliberately scared him: "Come, I'll draw two crabs with you, and forget about these hands!"

I just want him to know that even if I spoil him a little, he can still make me unhappy.

Later, I understood that this is the difference between love and doting, and the moderate expression of joy and anger by adults. It is the shortcut that can make children understand right and wrong.

He hurriedly retracted his hand: "I'll wash it up at noon." ”

He made a promise, and I softened my expression appropriately, but I still had to blame him: "Why don't you wash it in the morning?"

He hurriedly said, "It's six o'clock when I get up, I hurriedly wash my hands and face and eat, I'm afraid that I won't be able to go to school with you, so I ran out after eating, so I didn't wash my hands." ”

There are very few students who like to run to school, and I usually run there in the morning when the sky is not too bright to save time. As long as the sky is bright enough, and it doesn't rain, or the wind blows too much, I will read a book as I walk, and I don't care much about anyone, I am such a very unsociable person.

Occasionally, I have a little companion, and I don't care too much. It's a luxury to be able to walk all the way with his speed a few times.

As I trotted, I asked, "Will you bring a red scarf?" ”

"Why didn't I have you this time?" "The teacher also said that I don't pay attention to hygiene and don't like cleanliness. "That is, if you want to keep the red scarf clean, you must wash your hands cleanly, and you must be clean, so that the teacher can safely rate you as a red scarf." ”

"Are your grades good?" "It's not very good, the teacher wants me to learn from my second brother." "Can you get a certificate like the second brother?" ......

The three teams of fields in the morning were full of clear winter water. The sky is getting brighter, the mist is rising on the water, and I can already tell from this field that it is a cloudy day again.

I took Chen Siwa to the edge of the ridge and squatted on the big stone to wash his hands.

Autumn is gone, winter is coming, and the water is a little cold, like the care he can enjoy.

He has four brothers, three of whom are in school, and the burden is very large, the eldest brother is mentally retarded and has epilepsy, which is a big burden, his father works in the Iron Society, earns money to support the family, and rarely rests at home for the night, and there is an old grandmother, who also has to take care of the washing.

Housework and more than 10 acres of production land for seven people are mostly counting on his mother alone. His mother is also known for her slow hands and feet in the team. It's good that their four brothers and cubs can be fed and clothed, and how much care can they expect adults to take care of?

In rural areas, children have unclean hands and feet, and they can't just blame them, most of them are not because the adults in the family can't take care of them so much.

Wash Chen Siwa's hands, there is no soap, and I have washed my hands in the field for a long time, but I still can't wash them in vain. His hands were not dry-cleaned, and his clothes were dirty. It was late in the morning, so we had to go to school. There is very little I can do.

Washing your hands is a small thing, but there are many, many people who can't do it well.

There are some details that adults can't notice, such as me, even have only one pair of underwear, and every time I wash it at night and wear it in the morning, my family is already very wealthy, and I will not lack food and wear. Just because adults tend to pay more attention to the physical needs of girls, they will not think that boys also have a little bit of needs. It's also my fault, since I was fooled by my mother before I went to elementary school, I just gritted my teeth and didn't want to ask adults for things.

Compared with me, Chen Siwa and the love they received were even worse than 108,000 miles.

Thinking of this, my eyes were thirsty, and I didn't have tears in it for a long time.

Although I am only separated from him by a ditch, our home is diagonally opposite, and you can see it from the door, but my fate with him is so shallow, he only in this diary, and the one after my high school post-high school "Sorrow Valley, it is a good place, and there are many ......" (this volume, No. 012, Sorrowful Valley, a good place) - in that note, I was laughed at by the first beauty of my hometown, and that's it.

But decades later, I can still think of him occasionally, the day I ran with him and the slippery slope. Why? Is it because there has never been that kind of rain as fine as flour in all these years?