Looking Back at That Bright Moon Over Home
Today, I worked with my eldest son, who is currently in the first year of high school, to complete a special school assignment—namely, accepting his interview. In this conversation, he asked me questions from multiple angles, focusing mainly on my original family circumstances, the cultural traditions of my hometown, and my early years of schooling.
Taking this opportunity, I told him, bit by bit, about a few unforgettable things from my childhood.
What I remember most vividly was when I was five years old. To fill my hunger, I ran up a steep mountainside to pick wild vegetables. During the process, I accidentally slipped and rolled all the way down to the bottom of the hill, ending up covered in bruises and wounds. When I reached primary school, the holiday I looked forward to most throughout the year was Dragon Boat Festival and the Spring Festival. Because only on this small number of special days did we have the chance to taste the deliciousness of eggs and pork. In contrast, the Mid-Autumn Festival in my childhood left me with very little impression. The reason was that rural life was extremely poor at the time, and the villagers simply couldn’t afford to buy mooncakes.
In addition, the old Spring Festival customs in my hometown were also quite distinctive. Most people would spend ten days to half a month specifically for visiting relatives and friends. And the cultural event that made people in my hometown most yearn for it was the springtime community play. Whenever that happened, the school would give students a break. Everyone could not only enjoy local performances like Henan opera—so full of charm—but also gather together to play cards or rent and read comic books, spending countless happy hours that way.
Near the end of the interview, with a hint of emotion, I told my son that with the development of the times, many old traditions have long since faded away. Now, they exist only as precious memories, sealed in the minds of our generation.
Today, I worked with my eldest son, who is currently in the first year of high school, to complete a special school assignment—namely, accepting his interview. In this conversation, he asked me questions from multiple angles, focusing mainly on my original family circumstances, the cultural traditions of my hometown, and my early years of schooling.
Taking this opportunity, I told him, bit by bit, about a few unforgettable things from my childhood.
What I remember most vividly was when I was five years old. To fill my hunger, I ran up a steep mountainside to pick wild vegetables. During the process, I accidentally slipped and rolled all the way down to the bottom of the hill, ending up covered in bruises and wounds. When I reached primary school, the holiday I looked forward to most throughout the year was Dragon Boat Festival and the Spring Festival. Because only on this small number of special days did we have the chance to taste the deliciousness of eggs and pork. In contrast, the Mid-Autumn Festival in my childhood left me with very little impression. The reason was that rural life was extremely poor at the time, and the villagers simply couldn’t afford to buy mooncakes.
In addition, the old Spring Festival customs in my hometown were also quite distinctive. Most people would spend ten days to half a month specifically for visiting relatives and friends. And the cultural event that made people in my hometown most yearn for it was the springtime community play. Whenever that happened, the school would give students a break. Everyone could not only enjoy local performances like Henan opera—so full of charm—but also gather together to play cards or rent and read comic books, spending countless happy hours that way.
Near the end of the interview, with a hint of emotion, I told my son that with the development of the times, many old traditions have long since faded away. Now, they exist only as precious memories, sealed in the minds of our generation.