When I was twelve years old, one morning during the summer vacation, I woke up and didn’t want to be alone at home. I begged my mother to take me to where she worked. She couldn’t resist me and agreed.
She put on a wear-resistant long-sleeved gray-blue polyester cardigan, and I put on a vest, shorts, and sandals, and set off facing the rising sun. The morning breeze blew through clinics, bookstores, credit unions, and workers' clubs along the way, blowing away the steam from the breakfast carts selling wonton buns.
When we arrived at the place, my mother started to work - carrying coal, carrying woven bags filled with coal one after another to the mine entrance. People waiting on the roadside loaded the whole bags into trucks, counted them in pieces, and gave them to my mother three times. Yuan. Generally, it is settled on a daily basis, and the person who pays is the one who loads the truck.
The coal in the mine is densely packed and scattered all over the place, almost covering the rails of the mine car, and stretches darkly into the distance. The mines were mined day and night, and the trains were hauled day and night. It was not easy to transport all the coal. It would take many years for my mother to carry the coal bag by bag. At that time, my father had lost all the family's savings by running an iron factory and was bedridden every day. The money my mother earned from carrying coal every day was the family's only source of income.
Each bag of coal weighed fifty kilograms. The coals hurt my back through the woven bag. It was too heavy to carry on my back. I squatted and helped my mother pick up the coal into the bag. My mother is very pleased. This is a time-saving job. With my little helper, she can earn an extra twenty or thirty yuan. My mother's face was soon smeared black, and the areas where sweat had flowed were streaked with white streaks. I felt particularly distressed. She walked very fast, as if a tiger or a wolf were chasing her, almost in a panic. I felt sour in my heart and suddenly felt a surge of regret: Every time she came to the boarding school to bring me food and clothes, I always treated her badly. Wear this long-sleeved gray-blue coat. She explained that she didn't have time to change, so after carrying the coal, she hurried back to cook the meal, and then rushed to deliver the meal to school, because she was afraid that I wouldn't be able to eat the big pot of rice at school. Her arrival always made me feel embarrassed when I was young and sensitive. Other mothers always have a leisurely look, as if they are here to go shopping and visit their children; other mothers are always colorful and pretentious, and their movements are elegant and elegant. And my mother is always anxious, dressed in overalls, and unkempt. I just can't understand that no matter how busy I am, I don't even have time to wash my face and change clothes. Only then did I understand that she was trying to save time to carry two or three more bags of coal and earn a few more yuan.
The sun is rising very high. My mother is getting stronger and faster as she carries it. When she came back, I had not yet filled a new bag. Of course, I deliberately took it slow, hoping that she could take a break. She squatted down and filled the bags with me, looking up and around from time to time. As we were pretending, a loud scolding suddenly sounded in the distance. Before I could react, my mother pulled me up and ran away. The road was filled with small lumps of coal, which made the soles of my feet hurt. My mother ran forward regardless, and she unconsciously left me far behind. The man was chasing behind him. My mother looked back and saw that I was about to be kicked out. She was anxious and panicked, and it was too late to rush back to pull me back. Suddenly, she knelt down in front of me with a plop, and shouted: "Don't fight! Don't fight." I then noticed that the strong man who had caught up with me had grabbed my back, and his other hand was in the air. He swung it high at me and was about to hit me in the face. My mother became more and more anxious. She knelt down and waved her hand towards me: "Don't hit! Brother, don't hit. Uncle, don't hit. Don't hit me." The big hand was about to hit me down several times, but after a few hesitations, it finally stopped. . I was stunned for a moment, then ran towards my mother like flying. My mother was anxious and crying and said: "This is the first and only time for the child to come."
I have never forgotten the faces of these two people. They are clearly carved in my mind, but I have never forgotten them. I have never hated or complained about them. When I was young, I felt that my father was something to blame. Every time my mother went to carry coal, he would always lie on the bed. After carrying coal, my mother had to cook for him. If he was willing to stand up again as soon as possible, my mother and our lives might have a different look. It was not until many years later, when my children grew up to my age, that I realized that it was not easy to stand up again.
For several summers, I always thought of that year inadvertently. (Zhang Xiaofei)
