From the vegetable market to the kitchen, I like to choose vegetables and wash them with my wife. In the sizzling of the frying pan, I chatted with each other.
Nothing makes me feel warmer and happier than the fumes and fishy smell rising from the kitchen.
Immersed in this life of fireworks, I feel at ease.
Rene Liu once sang that no matter how busy a day is, I want someone to accompany me to have breakfast. Although this idea is obviously too simple, I just want to be with someone, no matter where I am tomorrow.
Washing vegetables and cooking together, laughing and eating together, the days are simple and warm.
No matter how tired you are, in the face of this earthly fireworks life, in the face of a smiling lover sitting opposite the dining table, nothing in life is unbearable.
Grandpa began to learn to cook at the age of seventy.
The male chauvinist grandfather never cooked for most of his life. Unexpectedly, he clumsily learned to cook after his grandmother was seriously ill.
Grandma has recovered, and Grandpa is still cooking for her, making pancakes, making handmade noodles, and jiaozi, doing it in a good way.
When grandma went out, grandpa carried water in the garden and took care of the vegetable garden. When it was time to eat, he put down his work and hurried to cook.
When I was young, I thought love was romantic, rose, diamond ring, chocolate, blue sea and blue sky, vows of eternal love, sweet words and affairs. Now I understand that all the deep feelings of love are hidden in a meal and a dish, which is plain but precious.
There are many things worth millions in this world, but nothing can compare with this love. I am willing to give up my freedom of mind for one person, and I am willing to fall into the kitchen all my life, just for the warmth of this life.
For the first half of my life, you washed my hands and made soup for me. At the end of my life, I gave you warmth. Maybe this is a love story that my grandfather wanted to tell but didn't.
A female friend came to visit and didn't go out for dinner, so she made some snacks at home.
After two glasses of wine, she was a little drunk. When it comes to my marriage, my eyes get wet.
When my lover was eating, she whispered that she envied me and a lover who was willing to fall into the kitchen fireworks.
And she, divorced, husband and wife are like roommates, who don't contact during the day and have nothing to say at night.
Cold pots and stoves all day, take-out at ordinary times, weekends. Life is like a dusty stove, sad, lonely and tasteless.
You can tell at a glance whether you are happy or not and whether you have smokeless anger. In the life of fireworks, there is love.
Grandpa's stove has also become sad. The once lively vegetable garden and the once delicious kitchen came to an end with grandma's tragic death.
Grandma cooked good tea and rice for grandpa all his life, and grandpa was happy in this delicious food and rice all his life.
Grandma died unexpectedly, and grandpa in his 80 s was like frosted autumn leaves, swaying in the branches and trying to leave.
He insisted on living alone, cooking alone and eating alone.
On the phone, grandpa whispered to me, "It's your grandmother who cooks delicious food ..."
Grandpa's taste buds are full of the happiness of the past, three fresh bags, leek boxes, noodles ... never again. ....
No one called him back by the river, and grandma's long and short cries would not ring again.
No one knows that he is cold and hungry, and it will never happen again if grandma tells him to be careful when blowing soup bowls.
Grandma left, connected to the kitchen, and the old house was razed.
Without the kitchen, there is no longer the familiar smell of fried peppers, and there is no longer the three fresh buns and leek boxes that grandpa likes to eat. ...
Grandma left, grandpa's eyes gradually dim and empty, and he could see the shadow of death.
Taste buds have memories. After eating a person's meal all his life, he became flesh and blood and bones, but he was taken away in this life. How can it not hurt?
There are many kinds of happiness in the world, accompanied by people who love each other and surrounded by fireworks. It seems that ordinary happiness is so heavy in life that I don't miss it even if I lose it.
If you fall in love with the taste of a man or a woman's food, you lose the battle of love.
But what's wrong with failure?
In this life, at least I have been happy.
The most important thing is to see the truth with a dish and a meal. Rich or poor, a person who is willing to wash his hands and make soup and enjoy it must be a sentient person.
Jiang Yang was once regarded by Qian Zhongshu as the most talented woman and virtuous wife.
When the most virtuous wife is immersed in happiness, she always mentions her lover who couldn't even strike a match. Come home from the hospital after giving birth, cook chicken soup for her and put peeled green beans in the bowl.
This clumsy wit is always doing something wrong, knocking over the ink bottle, soiling the tablecloth, breaking the door handle, and cooking breakfast all his life in order to love his wife and daughter.
Xia Zhen described it like this in The Romance of the Republic of China: As a husband, he has rare carefulness. From love to old age, I cooked breakfast for my wife all my life-milk, black tea, toast and fried eggs. It must be cooked well and brought to his wife's bed until she wakes up to eat. "
Happiness is insipid after all, insipid but most popular, and finally, it has become a lifelong obsession.
I don't want much, a porridge and a meal, a lifetime, three meals, four seasons, from black hair to white hair.
This kind of happiness is the simplest and most extravagant.
In fact, it is not only the smell of rice and vegetables, but also any fireworks in life should not be ignored.
After the death of his beloved wife, Mr Rao Ruping began to learn painting at the age of 87. He spent 18 photo albums, detailing the ups and downs of his 60 years with his beloved wife Mei Tang.
In As Flat as a Beautiful Pond, life is full of triviality, but it is simple and touching, without exaggeration.
Mei Tang and Mei Tang's first quarrel, her odd job in cement, her illness and her last tear. ...
The warmth of a lifetime, all melted in the drip, soaked in the bones, even if the Iraqis have passed away, deep love remains.
If love, all trivial things and all fireworks, life is not a burden, but a kind of warmth, a kind of loveliness and a kind of concern.
If you don't love it, even if your home is like a fairyland, people are like fairies, and it is extremely extravagant, it is disgusting at first glance.
Fireworks are lucky, probably because they are with that person.
Eating and dressing, crying together, laughing together, quarreling together, making hot pot, burping and farting, those seemingly trivial things and details often become the warmth that we remember that person, and we can't let go and forget it.
And these are real and trivial. When we have them, we don't necessarily care, but after we lose them, we feel precious.
The taste of life lies not in what we eat and wear, but in the trivial details, and whether you treat them sincerely or not.
Eating and dressing, talking heart to heart, chasing drama, walking hand in hand, quarreling and coquetry, those trivial lives have poked the softest place in people's hearts, not the best and most perfect, but they are warm and reassuring. No matter how many storms there are in the world, it's good to have you.
Trivial, ordinary, there is nothing wrong, that is the real life, that is the real love.
As long as you love me, in this life, all fireworks, trivial and ordinary can't cover a steaming heart. Even if you live a smoky life, even if you are unhappy, life is warm and lovely.
Let's make life prosperous together, shall we?
The world is hard. May you have someone to love, a lingering smell of fireworks, joy in this world and peace of mind.