House prices are bamboo on the mountain, firmly grasping the soil, absorbing nutrition, and rising steadily. At first, it was a house price per year: more than 800, more than 900, 1 100. House prices in the next few months: 1300, 1500, 1800. ...
People in small towns are like ants on hot bricks: some regret not buying when it is cheap, some hesitate to buy now, and some say that they will buy again after the house price falls a year.
A year later, bamboo had more than 2,300 knots, 2,600 knots and 2,800 knots. ...
If you don't eat or drink a month's salary, you can't afford a square in spring.
Then I remembered the bird singing in the vast night sky and endless darkness.
Ten years ago, I was away from my parents and taught in a very remote township primary school. I live in 12 square meter room and office. The room is next to the classroom, and the students' noisy chasing sounds hit my ears and eyes without hindrance. I envy snails. Wherever you go, the house goes and the home is there. My home is in a village 0/70 miles away from me/kloc-. I can only choose to let go.
My kitchen is in the corridor, facing a screen of green hills and a field at the foot of green hills. There is a row of buttonwood trees in front of the corridor. Happy-go-lucky, Shan Lan twilight, birds and flowers, four monsoon rains pot cooking, learn to find poetic romance in ordinary life.
Birds often come here to peck at the meat on the chopping block and the vegetables in the basket. Bow your head and peck a few times quickly, then raise your head warily and look in all directions.
When I think of the spring when I lived in a low-rent house, I always think of the bird that year and the red azaleas bought from the street in the living room. It breathes the air in the room, can't touch the spring rain floating out of the window, can't feel the boundless sunshine, and even the wind can't patronize it. Because there is no security window, I dare not open the window in spring.
One night, at home in spring, there was a strange knock at the door, which made the air tremble.
Who are you? What is the relationship with the head of the household?
I am a relative of the head of the household. She has been traveling these days. I'm here to show her the house. Spring looked at the staff of the real estate bureau who broke in and said in a panic.
Spring is actually looking at the house. The low-rent house where she lives belongs to her high school classmate. Her classmate's family of three lives in a house somewhere in the city center 120 square meters. She told Spring that there was a 60-square-meter two-bedroom apartment in the low-rent housing area of Wuliuli Road in the county. As long as she is willing to pay an annual salary of more than 1000 yuan in the spring, she can live there temporarily.
Spring told me with joy that pies fell from the sky, golden, delicious and delicious. She bought a water heater, washing machine, refrigerator, kitchen utensils, a simple sofa, a new bed and new bedding, and invited a group of our friends to dinner to celebrate.
Before leaving, the staff copied her ID number and telephone number and said, "If it's not true, I'll clear you out. We will also take back this house. "
Seeing people coming, the bird flew to the plane tree opposite, twittering, as if dissatisfied with my interrupting its wonderful meal time. In the thick night, I often hear one or two birds singing from the hillside or under the buttonwood tree. I often wonder if it is the one I saw during the day.
Five years later, I left that remote town and came to this city. A family of five lives in two rooms near the school boiler room. Like a sparrow from the country, hiding under the eaves of other people's houses.
We cleaned, changed screens, moved in furniture, hung curtains, made beds, set bowls and lights. Happiness is like watercolor on rice paper, which spreads out and draws beautiful pictures.
The first night, at three or four o'clock in the morning, I heard the boiler room buzzing and couldn't sleep. I woke up in the morning and found a dark bed. I panicked. Turn on the light and look carefully. It turned out to be coal ash floating in from the window. No matter how dense the screen window is, it can't resist the invasion of coal ash. No matter how hot it is, I dare not open that window again.
Our kitchen is still located in the corridor, facing four or five stout poplar trees. This reminds me of the previous row of buttonwood trees: after spring and summer, in autumn, they will burn to the extreme like flaming flames. In dark days, I often think of their glorious lives.
The poplars in front of the house spit out reddish-brown buds, spread out green leaves, and gradually covered the branches and covered the sky. Endless sunshine, through the poplar trees, becomes fine spots, drifting with the wind, like sparkling waves on the lake. We sparrows from the countryside have spent a year under this roof in a blink of an eye.
In a year, what we fear most is rainy days. The rain all over the sky hits the poplar, sometimes like a pearl jade pendant, crisp and cheerful; Sometimes, it is like the condensation, silence and sadness of orchestral music. They will also visit my home along the cracks in the roof. The ground is full of all the appliances that can satisfy it: washbasins, buckets and bowls. Dadada, this is the rain dripping in the bowl; Dangdang, this is the rain falling on the enamel washbasin; Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock. Crisp, heroic, and dull voices come and go, regardless of the hustle and bustle without permission. I hold my sleeping little daughter, and feel that I am in a forest with a banana leaf on my head, which may be lifted by a gust of wind at any time.
I curled up in the rain. In my sleep, there was a poplar leaf on the vast water, and there was an ant on it, running around in panic and anxiety.
A person who has no house in the city is a leaf without branches and a tree without soil. I am eager to take root firmly. I am worried that the roots will be exposed for a long time, afraid of breaking, afraid of drying, and afraid that the green leaves will fall. We should buy a suite before the school demolishes the building and before sesame blossoms and bears fruit. I don't want to send people under the eaves like sparrows. I want to be a swallow and build a nest with mud in my mouth.
I think of my father, and I finally have to face the most difficult moment in my life independently like my father. When I am eight years old, my family will build a house. On the one hand, my father began to chop firewood in the mountains during the winter and summer vacations and carried it home one by one; On the one hand, I asked my uncle to choose a good yard, and then I asked people to concentrate on cleaning the yard: tractors pulled stones from the mountains one by one and gravel from the river to hit the foundation.
Father asked a carpenter to make a roof truss. Picked a good day and built a new house. Next, we need a piece of wood to enclose a room and create a warm home.
Father went to the mountain to cut wood, and let the sawworkers go to the mountain to saw the wood into pieces. Every day after school, he goes to the mountains a few miles away to move a board.
This whole process is like a swallow nesting in mud, but it is more difficult than a swallow. In the 1980s, my father's salary was only a few tens of dollars. Father first borrowed money to pay off all kinds of expenses, and then earned money to save money to pay off debts. I have been entangled in the word "debt" for a long time.
Now it's my turn.
I'm like a flying swallow shuttling through the newly-built residential area, calculating the square and the house payment, but I can't make up my mind. Faced with this unprecedented housing price, we are helpless and at a loss. Our salary of more than 700 yuan can't afford a square building! I think of my father's sufferings in those days, and I have a piercing feeling. How did my father get through such a huge project of building a new house by himself? In the vast mountains, on the road where a person walks, does the burden on his shoulders make him cry with pain? It took me more than twenty years to understand the truth of life.
All we need is a sheltered solid space, a space that belongs to us, a space that can accommodate my grandfather, grandmother, daughter, husband and me, but we find it hidden in a fog and can't see clearly.
I was told that a master was eager to sell his old house in exchange for a wider and bigger new house. His old house: the first floor, 80 square meters, three bedrooms, two halls, one kitchen and one bathroom, with balcony; There are bauhinia trees, peach trees, camphor trees and willow trees outside the balcony; On cloudy days, the light will be a little dim. The solid four walls, freely closed windows and independent space deeply touched me. This is the house we want.
We painted the walls, painted the floor, added furniture and moved in happily. Our head is no longer a banana leaf that can keep out the rain, but a strong prefabricated roof that will not leak rain. There is a beautiful gypsum ceiling with a lily-like lamp hanging in the middle. Every lamp is its golden core. It illuminates every corner and shines on the happy and satisfied faces of the whole family. We are so radiant that even the sun can't cover that light.
Transplanted trees have soil, and swallows with mud have nests. Among thousands of lamps, one is lit by us; Thousands of windows, one of which was opened by us; One of the complicated roads takes us home. I am like a general, with a good pony and a sword, adding a little rainbow-like heroism and full of confidence in life.
In the following days, I feel at ease: save money to pay off debts; Pay off debts and save money; Save money, pay off debts ... I finally want to tie a period of time with the word "debt" like my father. However, this is a cyclic decimal, and its cyclic segment is a bit long, but it will end one day, just for a longer time. It doesn't matter if the time is long. I have plenty of time. Every penny of mine has its place, and I can't spend it casually. But my time has no shape, no paragraph, no plan, and I can spend freely: I can let it walk a lot, get a lot of rain and sunshine, get wet by a lot of cold wind, accompany me to run to work in the morning, and go home when I am tired at night, and let it hang quietly in the thick night.
Time, for me, is extremely huge, but it is illusory. Its only value is that on a fixed day every month, my paycheck is printed with extremely unstable numbers about two centimeters long.
Spring says that only time can be spent indefinitely. She spends her time at the card table, drinking and eating, and buying clothes, shoes and socks. She said, I can afford a house without buying clothes, playing cards and eating?
In the spring, she was kicked out of the low-rent house after a month of rounds in the real estate bureau, and her classmates took back the house. This classmate said that if you still live there, the real estate bureau will take back the house.
In spring, for this society, she is an illegal resident of low-rent housing. She often wondered why a divorced woman, who lost her house and family and had no property, could not apply for low-rent housing. Just because she has a job with a monthly salary of $2465.34?
Since then, she has moved twice, first renting in a residential area and then moving to a private house with remote terrain. Her footsteps can't keep up with the rhythm of a castor tree blooming. I always think of that sad bird song many years ago in the long night.
In the face of the house that has grown up, I often have this fantasy: tear down the wall between the bedroom and the balcony and replace it with a whole piece of glass, cover it with that light in the sunshine of the room, spread my arms and dance, or fly to the endless blue sky like a bird with open wings.
On the glass window, a large, simple and elegant gauze with a blue and white cloth curtain printed inside should be hung. The breeze is blowing, flying high, like a graceful Jiangnan woman wearing a blue and white cheongsam.
Make a beige tatami on the balcony and put a blue and white porcelain tea set on it. In my spare time, my name is Spring, and I sit there making tea, reading books and listening to music. Out of the window, bauhinia blooms and birds sing.