I hurried home and the living room was empty. I ran to the bedroom again, only to find that they squatted on the stool and looked out of the window like a child.
I quickly shouted: "Hey, mother, what are you doing?"
He twisted his face to see me and embarrassedly smiled. "Oh, you're back. It's late. See that you haven't come back yet. We'll just take a look here. Look, your mother is still there." Like shirking responsibility, he quickly turned his aim to my mother.
The voice of the mother's ears can't hear anything at all. All the exchanges rely on gestures, just like babbling. I stepped forward and pulled my mother's hand.
The mother turned to see me and laughed: "Having seen for a long time, did you not see you?"
I said, "I ride a motorcycle, wear a helmet, and run fast." I do not know she did not hear, she sighed, and pulled her back, and a little bit down the stool, squatting, step by step Back to the living room.
I followed them back to the living room and opened the television with a sour feeling in my eyes.
This is the first time I have taken my parents to live with me for 16 years. At the beginning, there was no house. Then there was no place for children to live. Then they were older and they were unwilling to move. Now, under my persuasion, they finally reluctantly promised to live for half a month.
After coming to the city, they were extremely awkward. The room was originally small, suddenly increased by two people, the space is even more forceful. We are nervous. They are more constrained. They do not know how to put them. In addition to sleeping, you can only watch TV in the living room.
He has already “returned to old age” and basically lived a life of “opening his mouth with his mouth and clothing to reach out”. This can't blame him. He is 81 years old this year. The cerebral embolism almost paralyzed him. His joints in the spine were misaligned, and he had to bend his waist down. He walked like a baby, staggering and shaking.
The mother's hearing is not good, but her eyes and hands and feet are still good, and she wants to help us with some chores. Cooking can be done with liquefied gas, induction cookers, microwave ovens, washing clothes, washing machines, she has accumulated more than half a century of experience in the countryside, where almost no use. We have also warned them over and over again: Don't tamper with electricity, don't churn, don't go out. As a result, they were "trapped" in a 56-square-metre hut.
The taste of sitting is not good. Fortunately, he said that he reads books during the day, watching TV at night, but also smoking. The mother does not know what to do, so she drags the floor, chooses dishes, and does something that does not require the slightest technical content, dragging it over and over, washing the dishes again and again. Ke Niang is 78 years old and has a bad eyes. Dragged on the ground, it is not always clean; dishes are chosen, there is always mud. Privately, my wife said to me, "Don't let your mother do it. She did it. I'll do it again." I said, "You don't let her go, she'll get sick."
As a result, the mother is doing relish, and his wife does not hesitate to rework.
One Sunday afternoon, the sun is fine. We stayed with the aunts on the lawn downstairs. For a while, friends have come to us. Before I left, I told my mother: "In a while, you will go back by yourself, and upstairs and downstairs are not far away." When a friend's business is over, it is almost evening. When he goes back, he sees that her aunt has not returned yet. I quickly went downstairs to find.
Just downstairs, I saw her mother looking up at the entrance of another unit and looking around. I quickly greeted and said, "It's so late, why don't you go back?"
"I said it was the floor hole. You don't say this." Niang was still shy at him.
I didn't get angry, but I just smiled and followed me up and down the stairs.
Since then, they have never gone downstairs.
One day at work, downstairs and downstairs, I inadvertently looked up and suddenly saw my mother. They crowded at the window of the road and waved at me. I waved at them and they waved at me again, so repeated several times. Returning from work, I consciously looked up at the window and saw that they were leaning forward and looking towards the direction I came back from work. When they saw me, they began waving at me excitedly.
From then on, the parents standing at the window became a scene in this building. The two old people were tied together like a pair of old birds, and I waved my hand downstairs.
Perhaps they knew that their own hands could no longer be opened like wings and could no longer protect their children under the armpits, sheltering them from the rain, and using their eyes and waved gestures to weave a net and still wrap their children. In the thick of care.
(Wen / Xin)