Colorful years

The golden osmanthus tree on the west side of the courtyard, which has witnessed a century of vicissitudes, seemed to be touched by a magical spell overnight, and suddenly it was covered with dense, layered golden osmanthus flowers, like twinkling stars, dazzling and eye-catching.

These small, delicate, and lovely flowers cluster together tightly, like strings of exquisite golden bells, swaying gently in the breeze and making a soft, crisp sound, like heavenly music.

At the same time, a rich and refreshing fragrance of osmanthus wafted over, dancing in the air like a fairy, quickly filling the entire courtyard, and then quietly slipping into the house through the cracks in the doors and windows, permeating every corner.

With just a deep breath, the refreshing fragrance will flow from your nose into your heart, making you feel relaxed and happy, as if you are in a fairyland, so intoxicated that you can't help but be captivated.

Time flies, and another Mid-Autumn Festival is just around the corner. According to ancient customs, people gather with their families at this time of reunion to admire the bright moon, taste delicious mooncakes, and enjoy the rare warmth and sweetness.

For Congcong's family, this year's Mid-Autumn Festival seems to be more anticipated and looked forward to than ever before.

On the thirteenth day of the eighth lunar month, school let out early. Congcong, like a cheerful little bird, carried a heavy schoolbag and walked home along the familiar and warm path with light and cheerful steps.

Before he even reached his doorstep, a rich and fragrant aroma of osmanthus wafted over him like a tide, instantly enveloping him. Congcong couldn't help but stop and take a few deep breaths of the fresh and pleasant fragrance. He immediately felt relaxed, all his fatigue vanished, and he seemed to have regained his vitality.

"Cong'er, come inside quickly, Mom has cooked longevity noodles for you!" Just as Congcong was immersed in the fragrance of osmanthus, Shi Daya's gentle and affectionate voice came from inside the house. After hearing her son's footsteps entering the yard, she hurriedly poked her head out of the kitchen, calling out to the door with a smile on her face, her eyes full of love and expectation.

"Hey, Mom, I'm here!" Congcong replied, quickening his pace as he ran into the house. As soon as he entered, he saw his mother standing by the dining table, holding a steaming bowl of fragrant noodles, smiling at him with eyes full of love and care.

The mother carefully handed the full bowl of noodles to Congcong and said gently, "My dear child, are you starving? Eat it while it's hot." As she spoke, she reached out to help Congcong take off his schoolbag and gently placed it on the chair next to him.

Congcong happily took the bowl of noodles. The white noodles were rolling around in the clear broth, like lively little fish swimming happily.

The bright green scallions dotted the dish, emitting an enticing aroma that made one's mouth water. He couldn't wait to pick up his chopsticks and stir the bowl a few times. Suddenly, he was pleasantly surprised to find two round, golden poached eggs hidden at the bottom of the bowl, like two dazzling pearls, shimmering with an alluring light.

Eating noodles is nothing out of the ordinary for Congcong these days. After all, the wheat harvest from their family's plot of land this year was bountiful, and his parents worked tirelessly together to make dozens of bundles of handmade noodles. These noodles are not only smooth and chewy, but also filled with the warmth of family love. Every time Congcong eats noodles cooked by his mother, his heart is warmed, and he feels incredibly happy and content.

Speaking of eggs, they were quite precious! The hens we raised at home worked hard every day to lay eggs, and these eggs were carefully accumulated. Only when we had collected ten to twenty eggs would we take them to the supply and marketing cooperative to sell, and then exchange them for a bag or two of salt to support our household.

Looking at the poached egg in the bowl, Congcong asked his mother in astonishment, "Mom, is today a special day? Why did you cook an egg for me?"

Looking at Congcong with a loving smile, his mother softly replied, "Silly child, today is your birthday!"

Upon hearing this, Congcong was taken aback at first, then showed a touch of emotion and murmured to himself, "Birthday... I had almost forgotten that this day still existed, after all, it has been several years since I celebrated my birthday."

After hearing this, Mom sighed softly, a hint of guilt and helplessness flashing in her eyes, but it quickly turned into determination and hope. She said to Congcong, "I didn't celebrate your birthday those years because things were really tough for the family. But things are slowly getting better now, and from now on, Mom will celebrate your birthday properly every year, okay?"

Congcong's eyes lit up with joy, as if he could see hope and a bright future. He quickly replied, "Okay, thank you, Mom!" At that moment, the small room was filled with warmth, happiness, and sweetness, as if even the air had become soft and sweet.

Congcong happily ate heartily, as if every bite was filled with happiness and satisfaction...