Chapter 15 Rubbings of Christmas

Christmas has an indescribable romantic feeling, because the beauty of Christmas has escaped the routine of life, so the Christmas in your memory is not always very real-and, the wait for Christmas to come again, you always think It is the first time, it seems that the Admiralty Bell chimes for the first time, and the stars shine for the first time... There have been many Christmases that I was eager to make into rubbings, and those fragments often reappeared silently when I was sitting dry. One year, two days before Christmas, I went to class. After class, I was very tired. As usual, I leaned on the back of the traffic car to refresh myself. An old professor sat behind me. He seemed more tired than me. In fact, his face itself is a tired image. Even if he has not attended four classes, it is obvious that the vicissitudes of life are carved in every wrinkle.Work, probably a tiring one, his face was almost distorted with fatigue.

However, what is unbelievable is that after the car drove, I heard a slight singing sound. When I looked back, it was him!The old professor, with his eyes closed, quietly hummed the intoxicating French Christmas song "Little Bethlehem, a beautiful little town". His tiredness seemed to disappear instantly, and in his old face and raised collar, there was a very serene and carefree look. I was shocked that he had such a beautiful voice. Where did he learn this song?Peking?Exotic chapel?Or from a girl's piano rhyme - when I was young, I didn't dare to ask him, I just listened to him humming the crystal clear music like a row of ice falling all the way.

One Christmas, a friend asked me: "Can you meet a certain pastor? I have a sum of money that I want to donate to the poor at Christmas. Can you bring it to him for me? Christmas is here, and I still don't have time to take it." I actually never met the pastor, the pastor lived in the suburbs, but I still agreed to take him "by the way". At that time, my bicycle hadn’t fallen off yet, so I stepped on the bicycle and sent the money for him. As we walked further and further away, I saw only rice fields on both sides. Straw piles damp in the rain. I still have a long way to go, but the pile of straw suddenly stopped me. Back then, when Christ came to the world, wasn’t that bundle of hay the bed of choice for him?

I bent down to touch the stalk full of earth, Christ once gave Himself to poor human beings, in a magical starry night, sleeping humbly on the hay of the manger, then, in the dusk of light rain, I will replace What is it to send a sum of money to the poor? When I came home that day, my whole body was wet, but my heart was full of warmth. Another year, I went to Fuda University to give a speech. After the lecture, it was already dark. I was anxious to make a phone call, so I transferred to the School of Science to find a phone number. The Faculty of Science did not turn on the lights, and the whole was immersed in the vastness between heaven and earth. There was only a huge rotating Christmas tree standing at the entrance, and the footlights cast the shadow of the tree on the extremely high roof. For a moment, I thought I had walked into a fairy tale .

The fine and lovely music gives people a kind of joy in this world, and I can't leave for a long time. I have been to that university many times since then, and I still don’t want to see the front hall of the Faculty of Science during the day, I don’t want it to be downgraded to a “place” for me, I want it to always be the “realm” of my dreams ". I have a friend who is of mixed race, and his mother is a dainty southern German girl with brown hair and brown eyes.When he was ten years old, his grandmother fell ill, and his mother returned to Europe. Then, in 1940, when the European War began, his mother could not come back.

She fled, riding a broken bicycle, lost all her belongings, but still stubbornly and hopelessly kept the documents of her two sons, the years of turmoil extended, her marriage finally had to end, and she wandered to In the United States, I found a job in a hospital and got married. In 1954, the boy was twenty-five years old, and was sent to the United States to receive jet training. That winter, the base had a Christmas holiday. He took a plane from the southern United States, transferred to a bus, and then took a taxi to Russia, thousands of miles away. Gang looked for his mother fifteen years ago.

Fifteen years have passed, the ongoing war is over, the marriage is over, and on Christmas Eve in a foreign country, like a myth, mother and son are still mother and son, and when the door opens, the family love fifteen years ago is still family love, and the mother dresses him in white pullover sweater. It has been two years since that story, but the strange thing is that neither the speaker nor the listener can forget the course of that night. Since I decided to act during Christmas that year, I haven't arranged a Christmas tree or bought Christmas lights at home for a long time. Acting is a kind of exhaustion and exhaustion.I didn't even have the strength to return a Christmas card, a play was supposed to be the biggest Christmas present in a box with everything my friends and I could give.

That Christmas, the child was asleep, and I was arranging an actor's clothes. The door was not closed properly for some reason, and three girls walked in. "We're fine," one of them said "Just wanted to see you on Christmas Eve," said another. Another one didn't seem to even say a word. I froze for a moment, not knowing what to say. But in the quiet night, heavy hands stretched out to surround us. No one explained, but there were many things explained.I understand their kindness, and I think they understand mine. Then, almost like a story, they went off again.I am very happy, but also very melancholy, every time I think about them, I feel both close and far away, like an old song.

I was very excited to receive the card from Ma. The card was homemade, and there were one or two rubbings of maple leaves on it. The maple leaves were taken from their honeymoon eight years ago. The beautiful veins are still clearly visible on the rubbings. Seal stone. In fact, I didn’t have a few words with him. He gave us the card because he saw the “Description of the Other Half” written by us. He said: “May all family members in the world have love like this.” I love that card, I love Hongfeng's Tuo Ying, the family who gave the card, and all the "sentient beings" in the world.

I am also eager to hammer the Christmas in my memory into rubbings, so that the fibers of those stories can be displayed in the fragrance of pines and cypresses at the end of the year.