There are vows, but they have been kept together. Pen fun Pavilion www.biquge.info even if there are thousands of mountains and rivers, that kind of beautiful feelings, but also happy.

I don't make vows that last forever, and I know that all vows are flowers that bloom on the tip of the tongue, and they don't have any actual value and meaning. The real affection is the dedication in action. Oaths, many times, are just a kind of emotional belonging in the heart, and ultimately are used to comprehend and reincarnate, rather than letting some vows become white stripes on the mouth and become inner constraints, it is better to be down-to-earth and cherish every encounter.

Encounter, is a kind of beauty, is just right. If the souls can be compatible, it is a rare relationship, which is so rare. However, the reason why many people make a vow is not to believe that there are really three lives and three lives, and that there are really mountains and boundless heaven and earth, but to give themselves a reason to be willing to wait for this relationship, and promise themselves a deadline, so that this relationship, in waiting, becomes more firm. If we like someone, we will spend time waiting and giving, all the giving, is just a person's story, and it doesn't matter whether the other party knows it or not. If you understand, if you don't say it, you will understand, and if you don't understand, you won't understand it.

This waiting, if you really wait to respond, it is to let the giving have a loving belonging, even if this belonging, it is short-lived, it is also happy.

Rolling red dust, all the way. There are always some past events, and there is a fresh vein in the old time. On the road of life, whether you are standing alone, or having someone to accompany you through thick and thin, don't lose yourself. The red dust is bustling, the years are agarwood, don't blindly fall deeper and deeper in the chaos. Jumping out of the ravine is flat, and when you break through the clouds, it is a sunny day. Don't think about life too complicated, it's nothing more than a cup of tea and a meal. We should desire a quiet and simple attitude to life from the bottom of our hearts, and cut through the complicated and simplified.

As long as your heart is quiet and simple, you will find that there are poetic flowers blooming everywhere in your life, and even the pots and pans in your hand can touch the graceful melody of life. The so-called quiet simplicity is not a stagnant pool of life for you. It is to let you not dwell on the past, or things that have nothing to do with you, but use the extra time to quietly enjoy your hour. Rodin once said, "It is not the lack of beauty in life, but the lack of eyes to find it". Many people always complain that they are unhappy in life. What is happiness? It is hidden in our lives, and it needs to be discovered and interpreted. Tranquility and simplicity are also a kind of happiness.

In fact, I would like to say that all happiness does not fall from the sky, and we need to work hard to strive for it. When happiness comes, please don't turn it away, if happiness doesn't come, you run over and knock on the door. If you don't even want to knock on the door of happiness, what reason do you have to complain that you are unhappy! In marriage, happiness is a matter for two people. We must understand and tolerate each other, support each other, and be honest. Affection needs to be run-in, and family needs love. In life, there will always be a lot of stumbles, but don't lose love and poetry.

Shakespeare said, "Love can work miracles." Destroyed love, once rebuilt, is grander, more beautiful, and more tenacious than the original. Life can't always be smooth sailing, and that's not life. Every day, instead of struggling and complaining, it is better to let yourself learn to discover the beauty around you with your eyes, so that the boring life is more poetic, because the poetry of life is hidden in clear eyes.

Looking up, the afternoon sun is spreading the golden yellow on the horizon, and the slight wind, with the softness of summer, blows the fragrance of May flowers. The sunshine, the cool wind, and the roses blooming in their eyes once again filled my heart with unsatisfactory poetry.

In spring, the elm tree in front of the door will sprout small green buds, the locust tree will bloom a large bunch of white flowers, and the bamboo behind the house will also sprout new bamboo shoots. I would find a long bamboo pole and tie a sharp scythe to the end to cut locust flowers and elm leaves. Sophora flowers can be fried or cold, and my mother said that during the Revolution, they all ate this to satisfy hunger. Next to the rocks by the creek is a concentration camp for tadpoles. The younger brother always squatted there with a bottle, saying that if he caught a tadpole, he could turn into a frog. All kinds of grass and flowers began to emerge from the roadside in the countryside, and when the flowers of one grass were chewed in the mouth, the saliva would turn blood red. We always walked and played on the way out of school, until the sun set and we didn't come home until halfway home.

In the summer, the cornfields block the view and the wind, and standing in the front yard always feels extra stuffy. My younger brother took a bamboo pole and a tree full of sets, and I took a hoe and searched for herbs all over the village, dried them and took them to the town to sell them for money. At night, I slept under the locust tree, the moonlight was bright, the stars were scattered, and I fell asleep with the cries of insects and frogs.

In autumn, when harvesting corn, there are always a lot of big and black caterpillars, as long as you touch it slightly, the place will be red and itchy for several days, so my father and mother wear long sleeves to break corn. My brother and I went into the cornfield to catch crickets, and when we were tired, we sat on the edge of the field and gnawed on the cornstalks. The sweet juice is enough to satisfy the carefree of youth.

In winter, when the door is opened in the morning, it is silent. In the vast expanse of white, with a small river and endless wheat fields, the whole village was dressed in plain silver. The bare branches of the trees were piled with crystal snow, and when the wind blew, they fell in a torrent, and the earth embraced gently. I wore a hat, a scarf, and a bulky coat, and walked in the snow. Rows of footprints are like traces of our presence in this world, and when they melt, no one knows that you have been there.

During the Chinese New Year, my mother would fry some fish and meatballs, and my father would sit at the back of the pot to light the fire, and I would stand on the edge of the pot and wait for the meatballs to come out of the pot. My mother would always yell at me and say, "Stay away from the frying pan, go outside, don't stand in the kitchen." "When making dumplings on Chinese New Year's Eve, my father liked to wrap a coin in one of the dumplings, saying that if he could eat this dumpling, he would have good luck in the coming year. In order to eat this dumpling with a coin in it, I ate it until my belly was round, and my father would laugh and say, "I can eat it in one more bowl." Every now and then, my mother would say, "If you let her eat, it's going to break." "At night, I would shoot cannons in the yard in front of the door with my younger brother, and my younger brother saw that I was cowardly, and always lied to me to set off a very loud cannon, and after scaring me, I chased him and ran all over the village.

Later, I packed my bags and went to a distant place for this or that dream, leaving this place where I had so many laughs and laughter, and looking for the paradise I wanted in the crowded city. The hustle and bustle of traffic and the staggering of drunken gold fans made me gradually unable to see the direction of life. In the dark night when no one was around, I began to miss the old days more and more, and I missed my hometown, which had changed a little.

If life can be divided into two periods, one is the later tribulations and the rush for life, then the other is the hometown of youth. The blood and loneliness of wandering the world are exhausted in the drift of the north and south in the future, and in all the rest of my life as scheduled, as long as I think of this pure and immaculate half of my life, I will have tears in my eyes.