Childhood Memories Under the Locust Tree
I first met Ya Huan in the spring when I was six years old.
That day, I was squatting under the old locust tree in the yard, engrossed in a newly bought comic book. A gust of wind blew, the locust leaves rustling softly, and dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves, falling onto the pages and making my eyes water. Suddenly, a little girl with pigtails ran over, holding a bright green grasshopper, and approached me: "Who are you? I've never seen you before?"
Her voice was as sweet as freshly peeled candy, and her trousers were covered in dirt, clearly from running around outside. I shrank back and whispered, "My name is Lin Zhao, and I just moved here yesterday."
"My name is Ya Huan!" She immediately squatted down next to me and handed me the grasshopper. "Here you go! I made it, it's so pretty!" The grasshopper was so lifelike, its antennae could even move. I couldn't help but reach out and touch it. The rough texture of the grass blades reached my fingertips, but I felt inexplicably warm inside.
From that day on, Ya Huan became my first friend in this old alley. Every morning, I could always hear her calling out from outside the courtyard gate, "Lin Zhao! Come out and play!" Then we would run wildly together in the alley, chasing butterflies across the bluestone path, blowing dandelions all over the sky, until the sun was about to set, when our mothers would call us home for dinner.
Not long after, I met Consort Rong—at that time, she was still called Rongrong, and she was the older sister who lived in the next courtyard. Rongrong was two years older than me and Ya Huan. She was always quiet, always holding a piece of cloth and an embroidery needle, sitting on her porch embroidering. Once, Ya Huan dragged me to her house to play, and I saw her embroidering a forsythia flower. The tender yellow petals slowly took shape at her fingertips, so beautiful that I couldn't take my eyes off her.
"Sister Rongrong, your embroidery is so beautiful!" Ya Huan leaned closer, her eyes sparkling. Rongrong's face flushed instantly, and she whispered, "No... it's nothing, I just embroidered casually." She paused, then picked up a pink embroidery thread, "If you like, I... I can embroider a little pouch for you."
That afternoon, we sat on Rongrong's porch, watching her embroider. Sunlight fell on her hair, gilding it with a pale gold. Her fingers were nimble, her movements quick and steady as she threaded the needle. Ya Huan would ask, "Sister, what color is this thread?" and then, "Sister, I want a rabbit-shaped purse." Rongrong answered patiently, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Later, Rongrong really did embroider sachets for us. The one for me was light blue with a small butterfly embroidered on it; the one for Ya Huan was pink with the rabbit she wanted embroidered on it. I hung the sachet on my clothes, reluctant to take it down, and even put it next to my pillow when I slept, afraid of damaging it.
Aunt Su is our neighbor at the end of the alley. Her husband works in another city, and her son studies there, so she's often home alone. Aunt Su is very good at making desserts, especially osmanthus cake. She always brings us some whenever she makes it. Her osmanthus cake is made with osmanthus flowers grown in her own yard. It's sweet but not cloying, and has a delicate floral fragrance. Ya Huan and I both love it.
One weekend, Aunt Su invited us to her house to make some desserts. We arrived early and helped her wash the osmanthus flowers and sift the flour. Aunt Su was wearing a floral apron and her hair was tied in a bun. She smiled and taught us how to knead the dough: "Zhao Zhao, you're not strong, so knead it gently, or the dough will be hard." "Ya Huan, don't spill the flour on the floor, we'll have to clean it up later."
Ya Huan kneaded the dough frantically, her face covered in flour, looking like a little kitten. I wasn't much better off; I couldn't seem to get the dough evenly mixed. Aunt Su patiently taught me, her hands warm, which made me feel incredibly safe. Rong Rong arrived too, sitting beside us peeling melon seeds to add to the osmanthus cake. Occasionally, she'd glance up at us and laugh, saying, "You two look like little mud monkeys."
The osmanthus cake tasted especially sweet that day. We sat in Aunt Su's courtyard, eating the cake while listening to her tell stories of her youth. The sun was warm, and the osmanthus blossoms in the yard filled the air with fragrance. As I ate the sweet osmanthus cake, I felt that this was probably the happiest day of my life.
Grandma Xian was the oldest person in the alley, living diagonally opposite my house. Her hair was already gray, and she always wore reading glasses, sitting in her wicker chair reading the newspaper or telling us stories. Grandma Xian was particularly kind, always speaking slowly, and she would patiently answer any question we asked.
Once, I hid under a locust tree and cried because I didn't do well on a test. Grandma Xian saw me, came over, sat down beside me, and gently patted my back: "Good child, don't cry. It's okay to not do well on one test, just try harder next time." She took a piece of fruit candy out of her pocket and handed it to me, "Have a piece of candy, it's sweet, it'll make you feel better."
I took the candy, unwrapped it, and put it in my mouth. The sweet taste spread in my mouth, and the grievances in my heart seemed to lessen a little. Grandma Xian then told me stories from her youth, saying that she had also encountered many difficulties, but as long as you persevere, you will definitely get through them. That afternoon, I sat next to Grandma Xian, listening to her stories all afternoon, until my mother came to call me home. The sadness in my heart had vanished without a trace.
Aunt Sun is Rongrong's neighbor who lives next door. She has a rather eccentric temper and is always complaining. For example, if we play too noisily in the alley, she will open the window and shout, "It's so noisy! Can't you be quiet!"; or if we get the kite string tangled in her clothesline, she will angrily cut the kite string and say, "Children have no manners."
At first, Ya Huan and I were both a little afraid of her, and we would avoid her whenever we saw her. Until one time, when Ya Huan was running in the alley, she accidentally tripped and fell, scraping her knee and crying very hard. Aunt Sun happened to come out of her house and saw her. Although she said, "How could you be so careless? You don't even watch where you're going," she still went home to get iodine and bandages, and squatted down to treat Ya Huan's wound.
Her movements were a little clumsy, but very earnest. As she applied iodine to Ya Huan, she whispered, "Bear with it, it hurts a little." Ya Huan gradually stopped crying, looked at Aunt Sun, and whispered, "Thank you, Aunt Sun." Aunt Sun's face flushed instantly. She stood up and said, "No need to thank me, hurry home, don't stay here," and then hurriedly went home.
After that, Ya Huan and I weren't so afraid of Aunt Sun anymore. We knew that Aunt Sun was actually a person who was tough on the outside but soft on the inside. Once, she saw us weaving grass insects under the locust tree, and she stood by and watched for a while, then said, "What are you weaving? It's all crooked and twisted." But the next day, she put a grass rabbit she had woven at the entrance of my yard. The grass rabbit was woven very delicately, much prettier than the one we made.
In the summer, the alley was especially lively. In the evenings, the adults would bring out chairs and sit at their doorways to chat, while we children would play games in the alley. Sometimes we would play hide-and-seek, and I would hide behind the old locust tree, holding my breath and listening to Ya Huan and the other children's footsteps; sometimes we would play hopscotch, and Rong Rong would stand by as the referee, teaching us how to jump farther; Aunt Su would cook mung bean soup for us, putting it in big bowls so we could drink it from them. The mung bean soup was cool and sweet, and it felt so comforting to drink.
One time, it rained heavily and the alley was flooded, so we couldn't go out to play. We all ran to Grandma Xian's house. Grandma Xian told us stories, Rongrong embroidered sachets for us, Ya Huan made grass worms for us, and Aunt Su even braved the rain to go home and get ingredients to make us hot noodles at Grandma Xian's house. We sat around the table, eating the hot noodles and listening to the rain outside, feeling especially warm inside.
In autumn, the leaves on the old locust tree turned yellow and fell one by one, carpeting the ground like a golden carpet. We would pick up some pretty leaves to use as bookmarks or make handicrafts with them. Aunt Su would make osmanthus wine with osmanthus flowers, and after it was brewed, she would give each of us a little to taste. The wine was sweet and fragrant with osmanthus flowers, and it was very delicious.
Aunt Sun grows roses in her yard, and they bloom especially vibrantly in autumn. Once, she saw Ya Huan and me looking at her roses and said, "If you want to see them, come in. Don't sneak around outside." After we went in, she picked two of the largest roses, giving one to each of us, saying, "Take these, don't let them wilt." I put the roses in a vase on the table, and looking at the bright flowers, I felt incredibly happy.
In winter, it snows in the alley. Snowflakes drift down, landing on the old locust tree, on the rooftops, and on the bluestone path of the alley, turning the whole alley white. We would build snowmen and have snowball fights in the snow. Rongrong would lend me her scarf so I wouldn't get cold; Aunt Su would make ginger tea for us to warm us up; Grandma Xian would sit by the window, watching us play in the snow with a kind smile on her face.
Once, Ya Huan and I were building a snowman. We were halfway through when we realized we didn't have a carrot for its nose. Just as we were getting worried, Aunt Sun came out of her house with a carrot in her hand. She tossed it to us, saying, "Here, don't get cold." We used the carrot to make a nose for the snowman, and it suddenly became much cuter. We invited Aunt Sun to take a picture with the snowman. At first, she was reluctant, saying, "I'm so old, why should I join you guys in this crazy fun?" But in the end, she stood next to the snowman with a rare smile on her face.
Those days seemed filled with sunshine and laughter every single day. We grew up together under the old locust tree, sharing joy and sorrow, leaving our childhood memories in that little alley.
Later, because my father was transferred for work, I had to move to another city. When I heard the news, I cried for a long time. I was reluctant to leave Ya Huan, Rong Rong, Aunt Su, Grandma Xian, and even the somewhat eccentric Aunt Sun.
The day before I moved, everyone in the alley came to see me off. Ya Huan wove a big straw rabbit for me, her eyes red, and said, "Lin Zhao, remember to think of me when you get to your new place." Rong Rong embroidered a new sachet for me with a blooming peach blossom on it, and whispered, "Take this sachet with you, it'll be like I'm by your side." Aunt Su packed a bag full of osmanthus cakes for me, saying, "Eat these on the way. If you want osmanthus cakes when you get to your new place, just call Auntie and she'll send them to you." Grandma Xian gave me a jade pendant, saying, "This jade pendant will keep you safe. Take it with you, and be brave no matter what difficulties you encounter in the future." Aunt Sun also came, carrying a cloth bag with a few pieces of fruit candy in it, saying, "Take this, eat it on the way, don't be a little crybaby," but I saw that her eyes were red too.
That afternoon, we sat under the old locust tree and talked for a long, long time, until the sun went down. Holding the things they gave me, I felt a heavy weight in my heart; it was filled with love and concern.
When I moved, they all came to see me off. As the car started moving, I looked out the window and saw Ya Huan crying, Rong Rong waving, and Aunt Su, Grandma Xian, and Aunt Sun standing by the roadside, watching our car slowly disappear into the distance. I cried too, thinking to myself, I will definitely come back, back to this alley, back to the old locust tree, back to their side.
Later, I really did go back a few times. The alley was still the same alley, and the old locust tree was still there, but we had all grown up. Ya Huan got into a university in another city, Rong Rong became an embroiderer, Aunt Su's husband and son came back, Grandma Xian was still very healthy, and Aunt Sun was much gentler than before. We would still sit under the old locust tree, just like when we were children, talking about our childhood and our current lives, as if those warm times had never gone away.
Looking back now, those days under the old locust tree are my most precious childhood memories. Those who were by my side gave me the warmest love and the most steadfast courage, letting me know that no matter how far I go or what difficulties I encounter, there is always warmth waiting for me, and there are always people who care about me.
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