I have been on a business trip to Luoyang for a week.
In the afternoon, I decided to go back to my hometown. In the silhouette of the city buildings, the afterglow of the sunset is coming from the rigid streets. I don’t like the bustle in the city. It scares away the sunset. At home, the wind is light, the fields are quiet, and the sunset is shy.
The bus only goes to the town, ten miles from home. When I got off the train, I heard someone calling me, my father. My father took my luggage in one hand and talked on his mobile phone in the other: “Yes, we will come back when we receive it.” Just give me the phone. The mother asked me what I wanted to eat for dinner, and I said, “Mom, I want to eat the noodles you rolled.”
The small slope in front of the door seemed strange and restrained under the night, and seemed to regard me as a distant visitor. Knowing that I was coming back, I saw my mother walking quickly towards the door. She looked at me and laughed all the time and pulled me into the room.
“Sit down. Is it hard to ride a bus?” My mother was as excited as the child who got the toy, so I sat on the sofa.
“Go wash your hands and sweat a lot all the way.” I was just getting up, and my mother quickly motioned me to stay still and said to me, “I’ll bring it to you, you don’t get up.” Before I could answer, I turned to the yard.
Mother came to the water, gave me towels, turned and trotted to the kitchen. I knew my mother was making noodles for me. I remember that one morning in junior high school, because my mother was busy with farm work and cooked late, I got angry and prepared to go to school without eating. Mother also let me sit, turn around and trot to the kitchen to make noodles for me.
She has eaten countless times of her mother’s noodles, but never looked at her noodles. Think of this, I gently came to the yard, the kitchen door open, I stood a few meters away from the kitchen, just can see my mother.
The kitchen is equipped with the same kind of white weaving lamp as before, surrounded by night and vapor, the dim light emitted by the white weaving lamp seems to be somewhat inadequate. The mother was rolling under the lamp and rolling with a rolling pin. The rolling pin was very thick. It seemed that she needed a lot of effort. The dough rolled back and forth under the rolling pin from rough to smooth, and eventually spread like a piece of paper on the board. Just like the road I walked through from small to large, how many thorns and potholes were paved by my mother’s hands.
I think my mother used to roll noodles like this, the only change is her hands, once white and smooth, now rough and cocoon-covered. My mother suddenly looked up and saw me. She hurried out and asked if I was hungry.
I couldn’t say a complete sentence in my hurry. I shook my head at her and stopped looking at her. I went back to the house and sat down and waited.
Soon my mother came in with a big bowl of noodles, and I got up to pick it up. She shouted, “Don’t move, the bowl is very hot.” I sat down again. She put the bowl in front of me, handed me the chopsticks, hurried me to hurry to eat.
Mother always does this, always urge me to eat while hot. In the past, when she heard her hurry, she was always in a state of complaint. She was slow and slow, allowing her to nagging. Today, I picked up the chopsticks and put the noodles in my mouth.
“Don’t be so big and scald.”
“Yes, put some vinegar. It’s so tasty. I’ll fetch it.”
She turned to the kitchen and brought vinegar, and poured it into my bowl.
“How do you like it? Do you want some salt?”
I shook my head.
“Eat meat. That’s what I put in my noodles. Eat quickly!”
I picked up a piece of meat and ate it in my mouth. She was satisfied, standing aside and watching me eat. I didn’t persuade my mother to go to dinner, because I knew that she would not go after I had not finished eating.
After eating a bowl of noodles, sweat flowed down the cheeks. Half of the noodles tasted sweet and pure in the mouth, while the other half was sour in the heart. A small drop of liquid flowed into my mouth, astringent, salty, I don’t know whether it was sweat or tears from the corners of my eyes.