At the end of the city, there is no bustling market, no shining neon lights; At the end of the city, there are only weather-beaten dilapidated shanty towns; At the end of the city, there are a group of people like them.
What should I call them? Children of migrant workers? Farmers' children? Or the second generation of migrant workers? No, I don't want to call them by these cold names. I want to call them by their simple birth names, hold their hands and approach their lives. ...
They grew up in the green mountains and green waters of their hometown, and their pure souls started jointing in the fields. In the wind of Shan Ye, they are running and dreaming. The wind blew into the city from the fields. For their livelihood and future, they followed their parents to the city and took root at the end of the city. So I got used to the eyes of green mountains and green waters, and came into contact with tall buildings and traffic for the first time. They don't know how to cross the six-lane road, and their little hands can't tell the floors of the office building. Prosperous modern civilization has never brought them any happiness, but this time, it has left a deep imprint on their hearts.
They took up their schoolbags and carefully integrated into city life. But in the strange eyes of "city people", I understood the difference between hukou and temporary residence permit for the first time. Are the treasures in parents' hearts! But prematurely assumed the burden that does not belong to this era.
When they come home from school, they cook a simple dinner, and their parents are still working at the construction site or the food market; Wake up in the middle of the night, the starry sky in the city is not as bright as my tearful hometown; Make a wish quietly, hoping that their primary school for children of migrant workers will not close down tomorrow because they can't pay the electricity bill. ...
However, I saw their growth in their growing bodies. I remember a reporter asked a child in a school for migrant children if he would go back to his hometown after graduation. The little girl said without hesitation: Of course, he must go back! At that moment, I almost cried for their growth.
I remember their childish declaration on the Spring Festival Evening that year: "Our school is small, but its grades are not bad", "We don't compare with children in the city" and "Beijing's 2008 is also our 2008!" They gradually matured, bid farewell to yesterday's shyness and began to welcome a new day.
Although, they are still worried about small tuition fees; Although, the school still can't afford to pay the utilities; Although, there are still many imperfect systems ... although there are many "although", only one "but" is enough. Many eyes have turned to them, and they are thriving.
The sun rises from the horizon, illuminating the end of the city and their lives.
They will eventually become us.