The old man picking up garbage
564 Words
One winter, I went to Beijing Daxing District to do some work.
The winter in Beijing was extremely cold, with dripping water turning into ice, and the suburban counties were even poorer. I was wearing a thick coat, but I still felt like I was in an ice cellar, my feet were cold, and I was walking on the road with my neck hunched.
At this time, an old couple came in front of me, supporting each other, hobbling over.
The old man walked around a corner, where there was a garbage can.
The trash can was filled to the brim with bags, cinders, rotten brooms, and at the top was a paper bag. There were some broken pastries in the paper bag, dripping and leaking out.
The old man looked at the trash can and then looked again. He stood still, looked around, saw me, and hesitated a little.
I had some idea what he was going to do and hurriedly avoided it, watching him from a distance.
The old man hesitated for a while and finally made up his mind. He took out a crumpled handkerchief and began to pick up the pastries in the paper bag, piece by piece, piece by piece, carefully wrapping them in the handkerchief.
The old lady stood behind him, watching him.
The old man finally picked up the pastries and walked quickly to the old lady, holding the handkerchief up, and he laughed, his face scrunched together.
He gave it to the old lady to eat. The old lady picked up a piece of pastry, put it to her mouth, and then stopped, insisting that the old man take the first bite.
The two fed each other and stood in the cold wind, laughing.
I stood in the wind for a long time. I thought long and hard about giving them some money, about buying them something to eat, but finally I didn't.
I knew that it was the last dignity of an old man.
Does anyone know what the old man was like when he was young?
Was he a man of steel, a man of honor who said no, an authority to be admired?
The old man picked up the pastry with his handkerchief, put it in his arms, and started walking again.
The old man's back was bowed like a shrimp, but he still tried to hold his head up, and made an effort to talk to the old lady about something.
The old lady held the old man's arm, the ground was frozen a layer of ice, very slippery, afraid that the old man fell, one side of the old man's emotions, and kept nodding his head.
I think, when the old man was young, he must have been well respected. He spoke on stage, there must be many people nodding desperately, applauding desperately, there must also be many girls looking at him with affection.
Now that he is old, no one listens to him anymore. He was lonely. So in such a cold day, he had to come out to walk, look, talk.
The old man is not lonely, because there are people willing to stay with him all the time.
At that moment, I suddenly envied the old man.
The great righteousness of life is not to be generous to the righteousness, and for some people, some things, humble living.
- Writer
