从早期的采集型社会到现代社会，寄宿身体或灵魂的寓所，就是家。对我来说，家是生命的根基，是心中最安心舒服的存在。每个人的一生中，或多或少的都搬过家。无论身在世界哪个角落，对自己认定为家的地方总有绵延的牵挂。中国人对家的感情更是深刻。特别是上了年纪的人，对家的眷恋更深刻。落叶归根这个说法，便是描述人到暮年甚至离世之后的骨灰也要回到生养自己的地方。美国人虽然相对来说活得更像浮萍，但心中也会很挂念家。我有个美国朋友把自己记忆中孩童时的家画了出来，挂在自己寓所墙上，搬去哪儿都会带着。

因为各种各样的原因，比如从初中就开始寄宿在学校，之后离家越来越远，继而在国外生活了十多年，我一直觉得自己是没那么恋家的人。关于家最早的记忆是幼时住奶奶家隔壁时候的楼房，黑瓦白墙，典型的江南小屋。我记得村名叫潘家塘，乍听可能觉得是因为村上大多数人家都姓潘才这么叫，但我们还真不是。想了想周围邻居和儿时玩伴，大伙儿都姓得七零八落。我家和奶奶家是邻居。我爸是长子，结婚后就在隔壁盖了房子，也就是我家。大叔家在我们前面，小叔和爷爷奶奶住一起。那时候的家庭大都如此。家里有好几个兄弟的成家后基本都安家在一块儿。父母大都和大儿子住，或者几个兄弟轮流住。老实说，我关于这个家的记忆很少，因为在那度过的大多是幼儿园时光，还没有记太多事。但我清楚记得我爸要对我抡棒的时候，我会拼命跑到奶奶跟前求救，运气好能免掉一顿，不好的话我爸会把我拉回自己家，该揍还是揍。后来家里条件变好了些，我家到镇上买了农贸市场里的商品房。村上这个老家后来因为国家要造高速公路也被拆了。

新家的房子属于市镇上第一批统一建盖的商品房，有点像美国这边的town house，外貌统一，并且和隔壁有一面共用墙。所以隔音效果也不是很好，隔壁的笑声和吵架声能听得挺清楚。但也有好处。那时候的有线电视需要广电局来拉一根线，我家没有安装，而是在共享墙上钻了个洞，从隔壁已经安装好的邻居家拉了条线过来的。这种类似“偷”来的奢侈仿佛让我看电视的时候更开心，但也有因为线松动信号不好的时候。小时候我算是比较喜欢看电视的类型。因为爸爸严格控制我的电视时间，所以必须和他斗智斗勇。这些方法大多数同龄的小伙伴都用过，比如趁他回家之前用湿冷的毛巾盖在发热的电视机后盖上，同时开着电扇帮着降温。

因为家家户户房子连成一片，形成U形，类似四合院，中间空出大块空地就成了市镇菜市场。其实每家门口地儿也是公共的，会划分给菜商，只留出一道口子进出屋子。我们有好几个邻居也凭借地理优势，卖鱼虾生鲜。从小住在菜市场，买菜很方便。因为和菜农都认识，价格也很实惠。菜市场的存在让我更喜欢这个家。每天一大清早四五点，外面就开始传来悉悉索索的人声和断断续续砧板上菜刀剁骨头声。大概是猪肉摊主开始分切处理当天的肉和骨头了。声音是隐隐约约传到我耳朵的，似梦非梦，在我心里夯实新的一天开始了的笃定感。这种感觉很美好，那是平常一天的开端，稍后热闹的序曲，让人心里觉得特别踏实。现在我知道，这就是烟火气。

在这个家里，整个三楼都是我的小天地。空间挺大，床也不小。床头柜两边有两个移门式的小隔间用来放杂物，移门上贴满了喜欢的贴纸。中间空出的空间用来放书。记的我当时最喜欢的是一套百科全书，分动物，植物，天文，地理好几本。那套书在我后来初中去学校寄宿之后就不见了。我觉得罪魁祸首是我爸，他老喜欢把我的书借给别人，但从不追还。我床底下有个百宝箱。里面大多都是我的宝贝，比如橡皮。我那时候喜欢收集橡皮，形状特别的或是香味好闻的都让我珍藏在那个盒子里。只是当时我并不知道，橡皮时间久了会融化然后黏在一起，最后竟是浪费了。盒子里大多数的收藏都是班里同学送的。那时候我是班干部，所以大家都会“贿赂”我。

每年的阴历十一月十三，是我们当地的集市。外婆会带着表弟提前几天来我家，在那天帮着烧菜做饭。亲戚们会带着各种伴手礼来家里吃饭。所有有关集市的记忆都是美好的，都是在那个家的记忆。当天除了会有很多好吃的，人山人海的街道上也会有很多平时没有的娱乐，比如充气城堡，套小人，马戏团，以及花瓶姑娘。那几天我都特别开心，不仅因为节日的到来，而且因为有伴。外婆来了我就特别有盼头，不会被爸妈责骂，也可以过完集跟着去外婆家。我喜欢外婆做的月亮饼，红糍粑和蒸糕。其实外婆做的所有的美食我都喜欢，即使平凡如夏天煮的大锅大麦粥，我也食之如饴。

所有那些住过的地儿，真正在心里的应该是农贸市场的这个家。在那里我度过了小学和初中。每当想起那里，脑海里还能蹦出好些回忆，内心五味杂陈。不一定都是快乐的时光，但即使是不怎么开心的记忆，也能在心里有一席之地。现在因为长居美国，对家的思念深刻又无奈。疫情让原本难得的回家变得更难了。但愿能回到想回就回的日子。

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From the early hunting and gathering society to the modern society, the place where the body or the soul resides is the home. For me, home is the foundation of my life and the most precious existence in my heart. Most people has moved at some point in their life. No matter where you are in the world, there is always constant concern in your heart for the place you consider home. Chinese people‘s feelings for home are even more profound. Especially elderly people, their attachment to home is unreplaceable. The saying that falling leaves return to their roots means that for old people even their ashes after death must return to the place where they were born and raised. Although Americans are considered less home oriented compared with the Chinese and more like drifting duckweeds, they also bear home in their hearts. I have an American friend who drew a picture of his childhood home himself and hung it on the wall of his apartment, taking it with him wherever he went.

I have always felt that I am not the homesick type of person for various reasons, such as studying in a boarding school since junior school, moving farther and farther from home as my study continued, and living abroad for more than ten years so far. My earliest memory of home is a house next to my grandmother’ when I was quite little. It was a typical Southern China riverside house with black tiles and white walls. I remember the name of our village was Panjiatang(潘家塘). You might think most of the people in the village had pan as their last name, but not really. Thinking about the neighbors and my childhood playmates, everyone had different surnames. My family and grandma’s are neighbors. My dad is the eldest son, and he built a house next door and moved out after he got married. That was my home. My elder uncle’s house is in the front row of ours, and the younger uncle and grandparents shared their house. Back then, families were mostly living close by like ours. If there were several sons in a family, parents usually lived with the eldest son or with all in turns. To be honest, I have very little memory of this house because when I lived there it was my kindergarten or even earlier time and I didn’t remember much. But I do clearly remember running to my grandma next door to ask for help when my dad wanted to beat me. If I was lucky, I could avoid a spank. Otherwise, my dad would pull me back to my own house and get me beating. As my family finance got better, we bought a commercial town house and moved to town center. The old house was later demolished because the state wanted to build a highway.

The new house was of the first ever batch of uniform commercial houses built in the town. It was like American town houses. The appearance was uniform, and two houses shared one wall. Because of that, the sound insulation effect was not ideal. The laughter and quarrel next door could be heard quite clearly. There were benefits too. To watch cable TV at that time, we needed the Radio and Television Bureau staff come to the house to install and initiate the service with a fee. We didn’t install it in my house. Instead we drilled a hole in the shared wall and pulled a cable from the neighbor’s next door. This kind of “stolen” luxury added to the happiness and enjoyment watching TV. Of course there were also times when the signal was unstable due to the loose cable. It was free after all. I liked watching TV when I was a kid. My dad strictly controlled my TV time and I had to outwit him to watch. I tried most methods that were used by my pals, such as covering the back of the hot TV with a damp towel while also turning on the fan to help cool down. Everything had to be done before my dad got home.

Because all houses were connecting, which formed a U shape and resembled Beijing Siheyuan courtyard. The large space left in the middle was used as farmers’ grocery market. In fact, the area in front of all houses was also public and was divided among vendors, leaving only one opening for entering and exiting the house. Several of our neighbors took advantage of that and started their seafood business. Living next to a grocery market was very convenient. The price was affordable since we were acquainted with the vendors. I like this home more because of the market. Every morning around four or five o’clock, there would came faint sound of people talking and knife chopping meat and bones on chopping board. It was the pork vendor cutting the meat and bones preparing for the day. The sound faintly reached my ears, like a dream but not a dream, and filled my heart with the certainty that a new day had begun. That was a beautiful beginning of a normal day, and the prelude of a bustling life. Now I know that was the sound of life.

The entire third floor of the house was my little world. The space was large and my bed was not small either. There were two sliding door-style compartments on both upper bedhead for storage. The sliding doors were covered with my favorite stickers and compartments were filled with my favorite trinkets. The empty space in the middle was used as a bookshelf. I had lots of books. My favorite ones were a set of encyclopedias, each of which was on a topic such as animals, plants, astronomy, and geography. They disappeared shortly after I went to boarding school. I think the culprit was my dad. He liked lending out my books. Rarely any was returned. Under my bed there was my treasure chest. It contained most of my previous collectibles, such as erasers. I liked collecting erasers with special shapes or good smells. But I didn’t know that they would melt and stick together after some time. They were all wasted at the end. Most of the collectibles in the box were gifted by my classmates. I was a class cadre back then, so everyone would “bribe” me.

November 13th of the lunar calendar was our town fair day. My grandma would come to my house bringing my cousin a few days in advance. Relatives would visit us bringing gifts and stay for lunch . All the memories of the fair day were happy and fun. In addition to a lot of delicious food, there would also be lots of entertainment that was not usually available on the crowded streets, such as inflatable bouncy castles, ring toss, circuses, and vase girls. I was in great mood those days, not only because of the festival, but also because of grandma’s accompany. When grandma came, I wouldn’t get scolded by my parents, and I could go to grandmother’s house after the fair. I liked the moon pancakes, red glutinous rice and steamed cakes made by my grandma. In fact, I like all the food that my grandmother made. Even if it was as ordinary as barley porridge, it was full of flavor for me. I would eat it like a sweet treat.

Of all the places I’ve lived, this house was the one in my heart. I finished my elementary and junior school living there. Whenever I think about it, many memories still pop up in my head. Not necessarily all are happy, but even unhappy memories can have a place in my heart. Now I have lived in the United States for a long time, I still miss my home dearly. The epidemic has made visiting back home even more difficult. Hope that we can go back to the days of spontaneous travel soon.