Full moon, the Mid-Autumn Festival. In the cycle of life, 26 years have unknowingly passed, with numerous large and small festivals, but the more holidays we cross, the more dull they become. Later, I even lost the memory of holidays. The first few days into the supermarket, I occasionally found shelves filled with dazzling, beautifully packaged mooncakes. Ignorantly, I asked my boyfriend: "Why are there so many mooncakes?" He shook his head and said, "The Mid-Autumn Festival is coming, don't you know?" Walking down the street, I watched people bustling about, conscientiously selecting beautifully packaged but slick mooncakes. My heart had no trace of festive joy. The Mid-Autumn Festival, a traditional day for the whole family, has been endowed with too many practical factors in modern times. Many people secretly use this Chinese festival to cast a secular veil under its banner. Perhaps I really grew up, always liking to see the nature of things on the surface, resulting in life becoming more worn and indifferent. Sometimes I think that growing up is actually a terrible thing, facing a lot but unable to escape from things I don't want to face.
I miss the days before when there was no work, no job, no money, and no staff to be straightforward about. During childhood, the most extravagant thing about the Mid-Autumn Festival was eating very cheap yet delicious mooncakes. A few tattered little girls would wear their best clothes together, dirty-looking hands carefully holding a golden mooncake, none able to bear to take the first bite. We would compete, showing off to each other, boasting as we chewed only a small mouthful. Even a cake crumb falling on the ground would be picked up to eat. Some children at home, truly in difficult situations, could only helplessly squat on the edge watching us eat. Parents would always call out from behind: "Girl, if you behave well, or if you come here, Aunt will give you cakes to eat..."
When slightly older in school, every family's economic situation improved, eating mooncakes was no longer a luxury. Every Mid-Autumn Festival, we would each contribute money to send gifts to our substitute teachers to express gratitude to the teachers. In this poor and backward land, teaching was a very hard job, and teachers naturally commanded respect. If someone’s child was not obedient, elders would say: "Send the child to the teacher for discipline." They would tell the child: "If you continue to be a troublemaker, I will tell your teacher," ensuring the child's obedience. This time, the teachers would always blame us for overspending because they understood how difficult it was for those who depended on the weather to deal with the yellow earth to make money. The relationship between teachers and students, and between teachers and parents, was always very simple and harmonious.
In university and during school, the Mid-Autumn Festival always issued grants to students. Though the amount was small, it was enough to buy a pound of the cheapest mooncakes. We would take the money, eat hotpot, and hang out with the dormitory sisters' syndicate. At this point, outdoor autumn was very hot, the full moon hung high, fireworks took off indoors steaming, smiling, floating subwoofer classic songs blanket dance show with unlimited youth. Sometimes I raised my eyes to the moon, bowed my head and thought of home, lamenting some things while praising others, talking about Chang E, the Moon, but not the Cowherd and Weaver. Missing studying in distant lands, friends and loved ones at home, after a few drinks, people always felt Chouchangbaijie myriad of thoughts.
During a senior year's Mid-Autumn Festival, it felt exceptionally bleak. Students were looking for jobs, some practicing, some engaging in part-time work, leaving the dorm room deserted. The topic always revolved around the upcoming departure, hearts sad like the falling leaves outside the window, layer by layer, folding the folded stack, 1000 back to turns. Someone asked: "Motherhood, why doesn't the Northwest attract?" Answer: "The Northwest lacks tall buildings, clouds gather, only the Southeastern."
After graduating from college, the first Mid-Autumn Festival, I was busy looking for work, as I was the only one who returned to the northwest after graduation. The second Mid-Autumn Festival came, and I had to work in a public institution in my home county, easily feeding myself with my salary, but exciting no ripples in my heart during the festival. I didn't know whether life moved me, or I was too committed to life. Looking out the window at the passing full moon, most often I thought: "Wish all lovers in the world get married, every family reunites, and everyone enjoys well-being!"