Once, now and now

To tell you the truth, I don’t treat my mother very well, not because of her increasingly irritable temper, but because of another thing.
In terms of their parents’temper, they are equally stubborn and grumpy. Often two days a little noise, three days a big noise. Every time the quarrel was over, Dad would stay at home all night and sleep in the construction site, while Mom would go back to her bedroom, slam the door, call someone to complain, or cry with her pillow, and my brother and I would go back to my grandma’s house for a meal. Over time, they get used to it.
On the way home one day, I passed by the shop. The aunt of the shop looked at me with a strange look in her eyes. I felt a little uneasy and had an inexplicable impulse to rush home, and I did the same. When I got home, my father and mother were at home. My brother and cousin were very happy to play. They could not feel the low pressure here at all. Sure enough, divorced.
This family is no longer like home, in fact, it has been fragmented, just for the sake of children and barely maintain. But it is no longer a real home.
“You asked for divorce first, not me.” Father sat on the chair and lit the smoke. The smoke burned like a memory, burned a little, and finally became ashes.
“Yes! My daughter is mine and my son is yours.” Mother said.
In a word, the separation of my brother and me is doomed. The marriage at the bedside became a silent irony. My heart was surrounded by a bitter cold.
I went over, took up my brother and kissed him on the forehead, but tears poured out irrepressibly. All this, no one’s right or wrong, no one’s win or lose. I can’t blame anyone, I can only bear it.
On the day of leaving, my younger brother still smiled vaguely and pulled at my sleeve. He smiled and asked me to hold him. His cousin was older and stood beside me silently. He had never been so silent. The road has not been repaired yet. The grass along the roadside is in full bloom, and there are still unfinished buildings. Several dragonflies were flying and playing, and a few children were beating butterflies. The wind blows in my ear, but it’s so strange.
Maybe I can come back later. They are still my family, but I came here not to go home, but to visit my relatives. My home, where are you?
Maybe all this is God’s joke, I lie in a strange room, listening to the noise of cars, think so. Is everything, after I wake up, will become a bubble and disappear? I am still in that little house, on the small bed.
Even though my mother was forced to divorce, I was increasingly estranged from her.
I no longer like to laugh, like loneliness, like rain, like to listen to the dripping sound of rain in the eaves of the window.
I think my mother loves me, but I can’t forgive her. She made it impossible for me to go home and feel the warmth of home again.
Her temper was getting worse and worse, and she became more and more irritable. Always scold me at every turn. Our relationship is becoming more and more rigid.
I finished my homework and went out to eat. It’s been half a year since we left home, two years since the day of divorce. As I walked out of the bedroom door and my mother was cooking, my memory suddenly coincided with that of two years ago.
At that time, you were tall, straight black hair, beautiful and energetic.
Now you have a fat body and a little mess of hair. You always need to build a thick foundation to cover the dark circles.
In fact, the mother is not old, but has become like this.
I suddenly felt relieved. Home is not there, but two people are also home.
Once, let it go with the memory, do not have to retain again and again.
Now is what we should cherish. Don’t wait for it to pass you before you look back.