Those hometowns hidden in songs
Last fall, Lao Chen next door came back from his hometown and brought a big bag of persimmons.
He met me in the corridor, forcefully stuffed a few into my arms, and declared with a smile: "The persimmon tree in my hometown has produced quite a lot of fruit this year. Take it back and distribute it." The persimmons were bright red and shiny. Holding them in my hands, I suddenly remembered that when I was a child, there was such a persimmon tree in my grandmother's yard.
This kind of warm friendship that is not pre-arranged and encountered by chance is like a well-known melody, which can lead people to a place hidden deep in the memory inadvertently.
Lao Chen has been in this city for almost thirty years.
He said that when he first arrived, the most difficult thing was not being tired from the work, but missing home.
Once, when the radio was playing at the construction site, a song suddenly came out with the lyrics "I sincerely thank you for your care and affection..." He was stunned when he heard it and stood on the scaffolding without moving for a long time.
Later I found out that the song was called "You and Me" and the lyrics were from a Japanese song.
But he didn't care about this. He only felt that there was longing in the melody that he couldn't explain .
What’s interesting is that this song takes on different forms in different places.
In Taiwan, the song called "Under the Banyan Tree" sings about the youth in the shade of the banyan tree, exuding a hint of youth; in Hong Kong, it is called "Rain in Hometown", and amid the continuous sound of rain, it is filled with the inner concerns of wanderers; however, in mainland my country, it has always retained the name "Spring of the North" and sings about the spring outside the birch forest and the wooden house.
The same melody contains the nostalgia of different people , but it is still so appropriate.
Sister Zhang, who runs the snack bar downstairs, is from Chaoshan.
She loved singing "Rain in Hometown" very much. Although she was not good at expressing it in Cantonese, as long as the tune played leisurely, she claimed that she could remember her grandmother busy working in front of the stove when it rained when she was a child.
When she said this, she was still wrapping wontons in her hands, moving skillfully and with a quiet smile on her face. There was drizzle outside, which wet the window sill. At that time, her family was poor, but she felt at ease.
These moments in ordinary life are the truest form of happiness .
Last winter, the community held a small party.
Then Lao Chen went on stage to sing "Spring in the North Country". When he sang, his pronunciation was inaccurate, and his tune was also out of tune in several places. However, when he reached the last part, many people in the audience started humming along.
Grandma Li, who was sitting next to me, said softly, "My wife liked to sing this the most when he was young." Her eyes were slightly red, but the corners of her mouth were smiling.
At that moment, I suddenly understood that the reason why a song has been spread for such a long time is not because of the beautiful nature of its melody, but because of its ability to accommodate the shared memories of a large number of people.
Only later did I learn about this case: when the author of this song wrote it, he was thinking about the young people who left their hometowns and went to the cities to work hard.
After traveling across the ocean and arriving in China, it has been rewritten again and again. The reason is that people who leave their hometowns exist in every era, and every person who leaves their hometown has a piece of their own "Spring in the North" in their heart.
Last weekend, I went to Lao Chen’s house for a visit.
His grandson was learning the piano, stumbling and playing the melody of "You and Me".
Lao Chen sat next to him, squinting his eyes and listening, tapping his fingers lightly on his knees.
High-rise buildings stand on the side of the city, appearing outside the window, and warm lights are emitted in the house. Although the sound of the piano is unskilled, it is expressed in a subtle way. It is very consistent with the inherent appearance of life, that is, although it is not perfect, it is full of expectations.
In fact, everyone has a song "Spring in the North Country" in their hearts.
Maybe it’s the old banyan tree at the entrance of the village, the drizzle falling from under the eaves, the letters home from my mother, or the fruity fragrance wafting from my hometown.
These shining fragments in ordinary life , put together, are our deepest attachment .
The song is still the same song, it’s just the people who sing it, generation after generation.
And those hometowns hidden in the songs will always be there.
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