The roar of thunder, I awakened sleeping.Driving rain, crackling hit the ground.Roaring wind, the roar was rustling curtains.Dazzling lightning, pierce the dark night sky.Open the phone, only Beijing time 4:28.Out the window, the cry is thunder, rain, wind, coupled with lightning, struck a chord with me.Gently push the time window in the dusty depths of the soul scenes of the past, I could not help but emerge in my mind. According to mother, the hometown of rice, can only be harvested once a year.Two acres of ancestors, two uncles among groups, will no longer be responsible for grandma and grandpa’s livelihood, and give to the father of six points field, every spring season, barrels of rice was gone, the family go hungry wait for the harvest, and me, and even worse.Mother cooked polenta, carefully fed into my mouth, I was less than two years old, a spit a feed.Sucking the nipple of the mother has no milk, piercing crying.Mother wiping away tears with ragged sleeves, and his father said: “The father of her child, daughter eat polenta, Zaikuzailei adults, you can not be hungry girl?”Sitting on the threshold of his father, sucked down clattered Calumet, his face buried in the palm, I came to listen to the cries hoarse, anxious as ants on a hot pan.Repeatedly pondering father, he decided to no water near two kilometers away from the two acres of wasteland reclamation Narita. Slopes covered with weeds, thorns everywhere.The sky is still bright, father squatted next to the grindstone yard, holding a long knife, rattling and grinding.Father under the hot sun, waving a long knife, touched the wasp nest of thousands of wasp, toward the father, the father can only squat on the ground, covered his head and face with a straw hat, curled into a ball, after wasp flew away, his father covered sting marks.Weed trees cut down to the ground, after being dried hot sun, his father lit a fire, the fire goes out, naked in front of his father is a rock and a hard.Young father waving hammer hoe, Alice and open soil closely linked stone.A pole, two mud Kei pick rocks, and assembled together became hard ridge.Labor day and night, father, hands up blood soaked ground, bruising on pole run over the shoulder, bruised from the beginning turned brown, stone stabbed feet, after risking infection pus.Looking at the reclaimed molding field, the father seemed to see the rice harvest, rice to eat a good day. When I had just turned five years old, my brother came to this poor family.June is a busy season, it is necessary to get water harrowing but also busy busy sowing songs.In my memory, the ridge and upland slopes nearby, frantically brush covered weeds, mice-infested home here, the rice crunch bars.Father and cursed those nasty side pulled the mice suffered plague of rats is not mature rice by hand, to the harvest season, leaving only a few bags of rice by mice Kenshi was leaving the shell.Mother persuade his father next year do not grow rice in upland.The next year, however, his father plowed fields all over the head, before the rainy season harrowing sowing songs, father sharp long knife cut off all nearby upland shrub with weeds, he is convinced that nasty rat will consciously leave.In the fall, we will harvest a few sacks of rice.However, in June of that year, not under a rain.Dry under the sun, a large-sized cracks open.To the end of July, a dark night sky suddenly began pouring rain.Father immediately chlamydia sky, mother dissuade his father “now harrowing too late, missed the season of sowing songs.”My father and mother smiled and said,” can be planted planted, cultivated fields finally, sterilize pity.”Jiefang Xie put on, put on hats, put on rain clothes, Kangshang iron rake, flashlight, catch the old cattle headed to dry land. In the evening, looking at the home of his father, we siblings directed at the house shouted in unison: “Mother, my father came back.”My father put down the iron rake, pick up my right hand, left hand up her brother smiled and said:” This year, my baby have good food to eat rice.”Mother smiled Yingchu house, his eyes fell limp pace father, angrily rebuked:” told you how many times, harrowing to wear shoes, do not always listen.Stepped on a bamboo stick, you have to do this foot?”My father smiled and said:” I am a cat with nine lives.Out of the way, get some hot under the wound like tung oil.You had better buy a pair of shoes cost two dollars, I can not bear to wear shoes harrowing, keep my baby money to buy meat.”I heard a young meat, he grabbed his father’s neck and said:” Dad, nice.”My father will smile more bearings. Autumn, fields of rice stem, not covered with golden particles, there are only green seedlings.Father of sweat, so wasted.Even so, the father or continue to keep busy in dry years over. Although his father can not read, but he has been dedicated to that “reading is the only way out of the mountains.”.With a hoe owned by the father of their own in the busy farm work, not idle, try to take time out to wealthy people do farm work to earn money to study for our siblings.Father, busy over many years suffering from severe hypertension, often in the field collapsed.I again and again to persuade his father to take care not to dry land, his father will be very angry to say “Farmers lifetime, left the land means no life, I planted my field, you read your book, do not bother me.”In the first two months of my college entrance examination, breathless my cousin shouted classroom, said:” Mei, an accident at home, you and your teacher a week’s vacation..”Cousin looked alarmed expression, and my heart has inexplicable panic. Opened the door yard fence, mother choked voice floated into my ears: “child his father, you’re gone, leaving two baby and how we live?”Batui ran up the stairs, cross the threshold, only to see the village elders, is the father of bone thin as firewood carried into the coffin.Brother dressed in white, tied vaginal discharge, burning incense sobbing Mingbi.Can not believe that I could see is true, slapping the coffin in an attempt to wake up his father.Church learned from the mouth of the man, his father always fell on the dry land where sun exposure, that moment, left hand holding half the vine, his right hand tightly pinch Flanagan no seedlings planted into the fields, and then breathe, eyes still stare round.Blame the tears fall into my mouth was hard, was hard.His father is gone, and thus exhausted their busy schedules farm work, this catastrophe destined to run away, because the barren land, the father can not do without such a hard-working person. Mother is disabled, was born from the womb only his left arm, no finger.Pillar of the family down, I do not have the opportunity to continue my studies.The mother said that my father left to dry our family business, can not sterilize, then planted corn.Suddenly, I was wandering in the mountain for almost six years, Taoguang all their savings, bought a set of small three-bedroom, when the house slaves.In my mother persuaded reluctantly left the old house, follow me to the mountain. One day, at the dinner table, my mother’s persuasion, all the family land planted fir, ten years later there is a lot of money, there is no need for those barren waste land mind.Mother bowl, slammed at the dinner table, said angrily, “when it was sold fir, all of the land has become a wasteland, you are the evil woman, your father worked hard to dry land reclamation, it is to let you hungry?Your body to keep your father’s blood, the blood of farmers keep, keep blood dry, and ultimately, you still have to return to that piece of barren land.”That night, my mother dropped just eat a few bites of jobs, it does not wash into the room, locked the door.Closed doors, but I heard his mother’s cries, and since then, the annual spring harvest, I will leave to return to the old house. After work, take a few minutes at home, eat delicious food on the table, happiness is so simple.Accustomed to older mothers compared sunset, hateful fear of the night, when I accidentally put my mother took.The skin allergic to alcohol as a reason, the company turned down all the entertainment, not drink at all over the years, leading to now, really can not drink wine.After dinner, holding his mother’s hand, stepping on the sunset stroll on the embankment of the mountain, I was from the mother’s eyes, read the loneliness and solitude.At this point my heart will pain, pain.If the father was still alive, his mother would never reveal this helpless expression.﹑ Simple hard-working father, no chance to live a day a good day, just hope he abandoned the suffering, to another world, is no longer so tired.Only wish in the long storms of life on the road, become a man like his father. Out the window, thunder stopped, the wind stopped, the rain stopped, the lightning has stopped.I truly heard the frog in his throat open, long-lost first TV drama a cappella songs, but I clearly remember, no rice fields nearby.