Poverty is not in the name of tenderness

My youngest uncle, a poor man. A man in his thirties, he came to my house with his sick second wife. In the eyes of the younger members of the family, he has always been a shabby and unsupportable, a year-round working boy running around in various places.

After dinner there was only me and my little uncle and my little aunt, I made tea when the water boiled, he said to me with a smile, “You, this small cup for me to drink this rough man, is a cow chewing peony. When I used to work at the construction site, the big enamel tea jar is appropriate.” I smiled and did not say anything.

In my memory, there is a photo of the gentle sunlight spilling over the water, the little uncle in a red and white school uniform, sitting leisurely and freely on the stone handrail, holding a guitar on his side. The hair is black and shiny and soft, reflecting the sunlight leaping with a light glow, a young teenager’s face is clean and clean, the willow branches hanging down beside him twenty years of light past, still in the photo green to the heart soft. How to look, that first college teenager, will not be the mahjong machine repair and inspection master in front of you today. But the memory is always so deep, so deep that even if he had a disheveled face, drunk as mud sitting on the ground, I will always remember that clean and breezy teenage look.

This construction site, a large number of civilian workers master, once in the windy moonlit night, in front of the old dilapidated Soviet Union building playing erhu. There was a tall catalpa tree downstairs by the playground, and the soft pink and white flowers fell on the ground, so I wore it around my neck with a thread-shaped capsule that had also fallen on the ground, and ran to my little uncle to show off, and he taught me to recite ” Wisang and catalpa, must respectfully stop”. At that time, I had no idea what it meant, much less knew the words, but the pronunciation of the words was imprinted on my brain through constant repetition. The actual fact is that you can find a lot of people who are not able to get a good deal on this kind of things.

At that time, our family shared the meager salary of my parents, living in poverty, and I was the only child in the family. Little Uncle was the only one who turned all the inconveniences brought about by poverty into joy before my eyes. To this day, I still think I believe in lies like “Hanging noodles will taste better when rolled” and “The older you use a handkerchief, the prettier your face will be”.

I’ve been kicked out of college, divorced from my ex-wife because of childlessness, never lasted long in the job I found at home, worked outside for years without a penny in savings, and occasionally needed help from my brother and sister.

What a …… useless man.

The last time my mother mentioned my brother before she died, she didn’t complain about him dropping out of school, she didn’t say he was useless, she said, “When I first got together with your father, I took him with me to elementary school. At night he would sneak off to pour water in the basin, and then carry it to me, saying ‘Yao Fang, wash your feet’. He was so small and weak that most of the water was shaken on him.” .

The company has been working abroad for many years, and has been taking its forcibly divorced ex-wife with it, treating her almost all over the country. After finally confirming that his ex-wife was healthy enough to marry someone else, he came back with nothing. A man in his thirties, the money he had didn’t add up to as much as I had as a student.

Then later, with the help of the family, the matchmaker married a young aunt. Is really small, than I am still half a year younger.

The actual fact is that you can find a lot of people who are not able to get a lot of money from the internet. The little aunt is still left in the bowl when the chopsticks fall, naturally to the little uncle a push. The little aunt is sick with inflammation of the joints, changing clothes and walking have to help the little uncle, I thought this disease is very serious. When it comes time to drink tea, I saw my little uncle put the cup of tea to my little aunt’s mouth, my little aunt said “hot”, I realized that actually the disease is three, seven is dependent on the capricious pampering. This smaller than my aunt can because “afraid of the dark” and let the little uncle even more than ten hours in the car, and finally in the evening to return home.

A man, in the absence of money and career, can not bear the burden of life, society never look at him what else. Or rather, society stepped on him and could not see him.

I have heard his eyes averted when playing the flute flute; I also remember him telling me “tea, fragrant leaves, tender buds. I remember that he accompanied his grandmother who was seasick and did not want to take a car to walk a distance, from one county to another city; I remember that he once put his arm around the shoulder of a long-haired girl with a cheerful smile and said to me, “In the future she will be your aunt”; I remember that he would I remember he lifted me on his shoulders to watch the Miao duet …… and eventually the memory settled on the image of him playing the erhu and me crouching at his feet.

The last time I saw this erhu was four years ago, on the floor by the wooden staircase in my hometown, dusty from the fall of the second aunt’s young son, with only one handle left.

The world is never smooth, and poverty is never tender.