In 1988, I was born into a relatively wealthy rural family in Shandong, or a small family. The village is not big, and it is basically a cluster of villages with the same surname. It is full of precious childhood memories.
In the past 28 years, from childhood to the inevitable adult posture, from the semi-peach blossom countryside where chickens and dogs are heard to the smoggy city of steel and concrete, from the north with distinct four seasons to the green south, everything I walked and smelled has become an indelible trace in life, recording those unique and unrepeatable years. With every step that follows, it either becomes motivation or resistance.
I often mention interesting childhood stories to my friends, and my friends will joke about it. It's really not easy for you to live such a long life. Just think about it, I accidentally ate rat poison, got rickets, got electrocuted by a transformer, etc. Looking back, I am indeed a little scared, but it is also ridiculous. This is probably how rural children in the 1980s came to be. There are only a few scars on the body, the hands have never squeezed mud, and the feet have never waded in the water of streams and rivers. Who has the nerve to say that he was born in a rural area?
I want to record every bit of my life in the form of essays, especially the little stories from my childhood. I am afraid that the longer it goes on, the fainter and more blurry my memory will become, and I am also afraid that I will forget the original innocence.
People inevitably move towards society and reality, and they just want not to forget their original intentions.