It’s been an amazing day.
Early in the morning, Lao Zhang sent me a message: “I have a blog on Sina that cannot be opened. Sina no longer helps us keep these memories. In the past, the memories of articles were only blogs and mailboxes, but now, this I don’t remember either of those two things. It hurts to think about it, no one saves our memories for us, only ourselves.”
Lao Zhang is a writer, with a strong appearance and a delicate and gentle heart. Lao Zhang had a youthful period of fresh clothes and angry horses, handsome and handsome, whistling to and fro. After graduation, I worked in a photo studio, catering, and went out to work… Now I run a lottery shop with my new wife. The pain in his heart, his dreams, his reluctance, no hand can touch it tenderly. Just persuaded him: “No one knows what kind of plot life will arrange for him at the next intersection. Maybe one day, you will write again.” My comfort is far-fetched, and the answer is irrelevant – what is lost is lost, whoever Can you find it back?
In the evening, I had a small gathering with Fengzi, Lao Hu, and Lao Yang. They are all my classmates. Fengzi is rational, Lao Hu is perceptive, and Lao Yang is straightforward. During the banquet, I asked Fengzi: “Why did you reject Xiaolu?” Fengzi was surprised and asked in surprise, “Why do you remember? I forgot all about it.” I asked Lao Hu: “I remember you in 1995 in Jiangsu” A novel was published in “Youth Literature and Art”, but why didn’t you write it later?” Lao Hu was also surprised, patted his head, and said, “If you don’t say it, I will forget it.” I asked Lao Yang, do you still remember when we were in school? Drunk and crying? Lao Yang thought for a while and laughed. We talked a lot about the past. Our memories complement each other, cross each other, and gradually put together a self-consistent circle, in which we can find explanations for our respective encounters today. It’s amazing that what we don’t remember, someone remembers it for us. The reason may be that everyone has different impressions on the same thing because of their own experience and temperament.
I suddenly remembered the message that Brother Chunguang sent me two days ago: “On the day before the 1992 winter solstice holiday, I didn’t intend to go home, so I was playing at your rented house. You said ‘it’s better to go home’, and the two rushed to the last shift. The ferry back to Jiangbei. Before the Beigeng Gate, you went all the way to the north, and I went all the way to the west. The night was cold and windy, the long road was muddy, and when I got home, I was paralyzed all over. Is that the time you remembered in the text?” The memory is like The frozen clothes under the hot fan are instantly wet and soft. The scene of that evening, the north wind, the cold, the lonely and cold ship about to set sail by the river, the few huddled passengers, the lonely deck, the gray sky, the gray Jiangzhou, and the young us. I remembered that hut, the landlord’s skinny and tall eldest son, and the long alley with moss growing all the year round. The wilderness of memory is like the flat land after the spring breeze blows, and the grass buds and buds are arched out one after another.
I suddenly remembered that a few days ago, the reporter Ruozi asked me: “Is Teacher Zhang still writing?” I told the situation, and she said, “It’s a pity, such a talented person.” I also remembered that Teacher Mao asked me one day: ” How is Teacher Zhang’s lottery shop now? Is he doing well?” I remembered that once in the group, a friend of the text mentioned an article “No Unforgivable Mistakes”, saying that it was so well written, someone asked Why can’t I find the article written by this author now. I was happy for him, but I was afraid that he would be sad, so I didn’t tell him.
Suddenly I thought of Ming Xiaoxi’s book “An Angel Will Love You For Me”, it was a warm wish. And no one is an island, no one walks alone, no one is a lonely tree in the wilderness. There must be someone’s memory to corroborate you with each other, proving that you have loved, been, and existed. Someone must remember your long-term kindness, your momentary beauty, your hard work, your tears of sadness – you may have forgotten all of these, or you have chosen to avoid them. Angels will remember for you, you are not alone, you are not the only star in the sky. You are someone else’s angel, and someone else is your angel.
