Grandma’s songs at the bridge warm the river of time
In the evening, I passed by the garden of the community and heard a few children playing games, "Tuk-tuk-tuk, selling sugar porridge, three pounds of rose apples and four pounds of shells," the crisp children's voice, like a key, instantly opened the warm door deep in my memory. It turns out that some melodies are really engraved in my bones. No matter where I go, just hum a little, and I am back in front of the Shikumen in the alley of my childhood. I am indeed back.
The summers in my memory were particularly long. My grandmother sat on the chair made of bamboo and shook the cattail leaf fan to drive away mosquitoes for me. She also taught me to say: "My mistress, pull the cart and pull it to Lujiazui." At that time, there were not so many high-rise buildings in Lujiazui. As I thought about it, I asked my grandmother, why did my mistress go to the Huangpu River to clean her pants? Grandma immediately smiled, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes contained endless tenderness. Looking back now, these seemingly clueless nursery rhymes are actually full of the most vivid atmosphere of life in old Shanghai, the most vivid characteristics of old Shanghai that are closely connected with life, and the most vivid spiritual feeling of life in old Shanghai.
At that time, how could we have as many toys as we have now? There was a rubber band that could jump from one end of the alley to the other, and he was still muttering: "Little rubber ball, little basket, fall to the ground and bloom twenty-one." I was sweating all over my head while dancing, but I felt that it was the happiest thing in the world. Sometimes when they get tired from dancing, they will gather together and play "wooden man", holding their breath and trying their best to hold back their laughter. Whoever moves first loses. That kind of extremely simple happiness, when I think about it now, my heart is still full of warmth.
My mother said that what she was most afraid of when she was a child was that the nursery rhyme "Lai Xuejing, Bai Xiangjing" was sung to her by children, "Lai Xuejing, Bai Xiangjing, the school bag is used to the roof." If a naughty boy chased her and sang it, she would run home with red eyes and complain. But now, those past events that meant "embarrassment" have become "glittering" "treasures" in her memory. It turns out that time is really a magical sieve, leaving only "beautiful things".
What makes me nostalgic the most is the song "Shake, shake, shake to Grandma's Bridge". When I was a child, I would take a nap at my grandma's house. She would always pat my back gently and hum in soft Shanghainese. Later, my grandma got old and was lying in bed. One day I went to visit her. She suddenly took my hand and hummed "Shake, shake" vaguely. At that moment, I couldn't hold it back anymore and tears burst into my eyes. Those songs that once lulled us to sleep eventually became the warm comfort we spent with her in her last years.
Now that I have become a mother, when I put my daughter to sleep at night, I will subconsciously hum the nursery rhymes my grandmother once taught me. Humming "Little stars are shining brightly, Ila blinks at me", my daughter opened her big eyes and asked me: "Mom, who is 'Ila'?" I said, "Ila" is them, the stars in the sky. Looking at her sweetly sleeping face, I suddenly understood that these nursery rhymes were like an invisible thread, densely sewing the emotions of four generations together.
A few days ago, I took my daughter to the Chenghuang Temple and saw an old man teaching his grandson to recite "Master Chenghuang Hahaha". The little grandson stuttered while reading, but his face was full of seriousness. The tourists nearby stopped and took videos with smiles on their faces. This is probably the most charming part of our city - those ancient songs have not disappeared. They are hidden in the corner of a certain alley, hidden in the corners of the smiling lips of our ancestors, waiting to be awakened again by the next innocent child's voice.
Time is like a song, and what is sung is the warmth conveyed in the fireworks of this world. No matter where we are, as long as we hum those familiar tunes, we can hear the echoes of childhood and see grandma standing on the bridge, smiling at us.
Comments NOTHING