Scores on the door frame

The crooked pendant prints on the door frame of the old house are still clearly visible. The height line engraved at the age of twelve is like a horned squid that year, firmly sitting in the depth of memory. At this moment, I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of the strange country, and my fingers unconsciously over the ice-cold glass, and in a trance I touched the cracks of the wood on the door frame.

When the locust flowers rustled, the bluestone slabs at the entrance of the alley were soaked in the sweet fragrance. The bamboo dustpan next door was filled with newly harvested glutinous rice, and the white flowers filled the alley. My little sister and I squatted beside the stone, stringed locust petals into circles, and dyed the nails green with the flower juice. The wind passed through the hall and blew the blue shirt hanging on the bamboo pole into a flying sail, and the bitter breath of soap beads floated in the air.

On summer nights, the fog is so thick that it can be scooped into a bowl. My father raised the bamboo bed under the grape trellis, and the mat was soaked in the moonlight. The kerosene light swayed in the gauze cover, and the mother held the palm-leaf fan and muttered \”The mind is calm and natural\”. We counted the popsicles until the dew moistened our eyelashes. The moonlight dripping from the tiles gathered into a pool of silver water on the brick ground.

I remember the iron pot in the stove. In the morning light of winter, just licking the window, and the flames in the coal stove woke up. My mother buried the red potato in the stove ashes. I wrapped my cotton trunk and squatted in front of the stove, watching the fire trunk dancing like a fire trunk. When the sweet fragrance spreads, the smoke in the morning fog is climbing into the blue sky, like a straw book written by whom.

When I returned to my country the year before yesterday, the lintel of the old house had been replaced with electronic locks. The locust tree had long been removed, and a stainless steel announcement column was erected on the spot. In the twilight, I touched the faded scale on the door frame, and suddenly I heard myself stepping on the wooden ladder and shouting: \”Mom! I\’m tall again!\” The sound hit the porcelain brick wall, breaking into a blank reply.

At this moment, the cold current swept across the city\’s skyline, and I rubbed my stubborn hands and snorted towards my palms. I was stunned and saw the firelight waving in the stove, reflecting the white frost on the horns of my mother\’s wife, making my nose so sore.