It's been a week's business trip to Luoyang.
After I was busy in the afternoon, I decided to go back to my hometown. The sunset glow wanders in the outline of the city buildings, and people come and go on stiff 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 town, ten miles from home. When I got out of the car, I heard someone calling me, 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. On the phone, my mother asked me what I wanted for dinner, and I said, "Mom, I want to eat your raked noodles."
The small dirt slope in front of the door looked strange and restrained in the night, and seemed to regard me as a distant guest. 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, it's hard to ride?" Mother was as excited as a child after she got a beloved toy and 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 brought me water, handed me a towel, turned around and trotted to the kitchen. I know my mother is 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. So did my mother, who sat me down, turned around and trotted to the kitchen to make noodles for me.
She had eaten noodles made by her mother countless times, but never carefully watched the way she rolled 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. Mother was under the lamp, rolling her face with a rolling pin. The rolling pin was very thick, and she seemed to have to exert a lot of strength. 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. It's like the road I've traveled from childhood to adulthood. How many thorns and pits have been paved by my mother with both 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. Suddenly my mother looked up and saw me. She came out in a hurry and asked me if I could not stand hunger.
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 chopsticks and urged me to eat it.
Mother always does. She always urges me to eat while it's hot. Hearing her urge before, my heart was always full of resentment, slow and slow, let her nag. Today I picked up my chopsticks, picked up the noodles and put them into my mouth.
"Don't take that big mouth. Carefully burn it."
I nodded.
"Yes, put some vinegar on it. It's delicious. I'll get it."
She turned to the kitchen to get vinegar and pour it into my bowl.
"How about a little more salt?
I shook my head.
"Eat meat, that's what I put in my noodles. Eat fast!"
I picked up a piece of meat and ate it in my mouth. She was satisfied and stood watching me eat it. I didn't advise my mother to go to dinner because I knew she would not go until I had finished.
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.