Swallows are the most popular birds among villagers. They love them even more than Magpies. Every autumn, the swallows left silently without seeing those figures. People always say in their hearts, when will the swallows come back? It seemed that the Swallow who built the nest on the roof beam was already a member of this family. There was always some reluctance and more kindness between words. When spring came and the willow green flowers were red, the swallows came back with joy and twittering, circling over the roof, looking for their old nest, and with a sound of whoosh, they got in from the door, falling on the Roof Beam, I couldn’t help ringing a few times, as if saying, I’m back, I’m back. In fact, people here have long been looking forward to the early return of swallows. When the swallows come back, they will bring a lot of spring scenery. The spring in the mountain village will be truly clear and colorful. I don’t know who cut the fine leaves. The spring wind in February is like scissors. This swallow, with a pair of scissors, flies thousands of miles and cuts all the way, with various patterns, sends the thriving spring to thousands of households, what’s more, they hummed a spring ballad with joyful whispers, touching their hearts. After the firecrackers of the new year rang, I obviously felt that when I slept at night, there would be fine sweat. The land under my feet was not as cold as that in lunar December, and there was a faint sound of rolling and surging. When I was young, I felt that I couldn’t express it. I didn’t know how to use appropriate words to express it. Sitting at the door of the house, looking up, you can see the mountains far and near, high and low, connected into a piece, surrounded by small mountain villages one after another. A piece of sky surrounded by mountains and mountains gradually became clear. It was no longer as heavy and depressing as winter, but gradually added some pleasant colors. A large area of intoxicating blue was just like washing water, it is particularly exciting; Even those big and small clouds are more elegant, dexterous and beautiful than those in winter. In her spare time, mother would sit at the gate of the yard and do some needlework. She would raise her face from time to time, looking at the mountains in the distance and the sky above her head. The mountains are still those mountains, the ridges are still those ridges, the sky is still the day when the palm is big, and the pedestrians on the mountain road are also those villagers who are not familiar with each other, which seems to be nothing different, but from my mother’s eyes, there was clearly something waiting for. That eyes were no different from those of my elder brothers and sisters who were waiting to come back from school. Spring is getting closer and closer, and the fragrance of flowers is getting stronger and stronger. Finally one day, a pair of small black spots flew over from the opposite hill and fell on the osmanthus tree in front of the door, shouting incessantly. My mother said happily that it was the swallow. The Swallow in our family came back, so let it go quickly, standing three or five steps away from the door, he said to the swallow on the tree, “come in as soon as you come back, and forget the house, don’t you? The swallow seemed to be hesitant and unwilling to move. His mother raised her voice and said it again. This time, the swallow understood his mother’s words, nodded to his mother, chirped twice, went through the wall of the yard and went straight to the main room, their nests were built on the roof beams. Although they hadn’t lived for a long time and had a defect, they were their homes, and their smell remained in the nests. I believe that in a few days, the diligent swallows will bring new mud and repair their homes neatly. In their hometown, villagers all believed that the families that swallows were willing to come must be good families. This good family was not necessarily rich and rich, including many aspects. Some rich and powerful families, swallows just refused to go. Therefore, every spring, there are many people looking forward to the swallows flying away from their home in the first year, which is no less than the relatives waiting for their return. If the swallows do not come back for a long time, they can’t help chanting, I don’t know whether the flying swallow will still be there, whether it is lost, and I can no longer find the direction to go home. The boys were very naughty when they were young, so they did everything to dig out birds and tear down their nests. Only the Swallow’s nests could not move, nor did they dare to move. Otherwise, my mother would have a good beating, which made her skin suffer. When I was three or two years old, I stayed in my mother’s arms and didn’t want to leave. At home, without anyone else, my mother taught me to sing children’s songs. In spring, this Swallow, she became the object of her mother’s singing over and over again. Little Swallow, wearing flower clothes, come here every spring. My mother sang one sentence, and I followed one sentence. I always didn’t learn it, which made my mother laugh and continue to sing while laughing. I followed behind, learning to sing one word after another, again and again, the immature voice finally finished this children’s song, not to mention how happy my mother was. In my memory, my mother was very good at singing, not worse than the young aunts and sisters-in-law, but she seldom sang and hardly spoke in public to teach us children’s songs, perhaps it is the natural outpouring of maternity, and it is also a mother’s devotion to her children. In the eyes of all mothers, their own children are not worse than others. Their own children are precious knots that cannot be changed. I grew up day by day in my mother’s songs. One day, I carried my schoolbag and went to school. I stopped singing children’s songs with my mother and even began to dislike these songs that accompanied me to grow up. First of all, I was afraid that someone would laugh at me. At this time, I followed the teacher to sing those songs. After primary school, it was junior high school, followed by senior high school. These songs taught by my mother almost never sang any more, as if they were all removed from my heart. I grew up and my mother was old. No one would mention these songs belonging to my mother any more. Until one day, when I had my own child, the child grew up day by day, and the longer it grew, the more lovely it was. When I was talking, I unconsciously taught her to sing Little Swallow and wear flower clothes. I sang, after another, my wife said, “children are so happy that the whole family is happy and unhappy. Although the life is not so comfortable, the warmth of the family will make people forget many unpleasant things. One day, my mother held the child in her arms and sang with the child in no hurry. The Little Swallow, dressed in floral clothes, came here every spring. The songs hidden in her heart also highlighted the rare charm, the child learned from her, one long sentence and one short sentence, although the tune was gone, such happiness could not be picked up casually by ordinary people. The songs she was familiar with were sung by a generation of people and ushered in the next generation. Sometimes, in my mother’s ballad, recalling my childhood, it was a pity that I always passed by without a good aftertaste. Now I think of these again. It is a pity that my mother has not been here for a long time, but I still remember the country folk songs with scales and claws, which make people have endless charm in their hearts. What was a little regretful was that now living in the city, I could never see those swallows who came back in pairs, which had become a kind of complex. However, such songs became clearer in my heart.

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