这是女儿十年级一篇描写中国农村重男轻女的获奖作品。
在这个作品的六年前，我们全家回国，这是她两岁多出国后第一次回去。游玩了北京成都西安以及秦岭深处的老家，大家都非常开心。回老家探亲时也带女儿看望了小时候的奶妈一家。奶妈家离我小时候的家二里地，原是一个大生产队的，隔着几个村子，很容易走到。奶妈家有三个儿子两个女儿，小儿子和我几乎同岁，从小一起长大，直到我上小学一年级。老二老大也比我大不了多少，小时候也是经常在一起玩耍。
记得奶妈家后院小坡上有一颗梨树一颗桃树，春天的时候满树的花开，白的粉的，非常美。再往远处一些的河边有一颗大橡树，夏天大人们在橡树下乘凉，洗衣服。秋天每次掉橡树子的时候，我们就去捡一大堆橡子，挑出一些大的匀称的，下面插一根火柴棒，放在平的石头上转着玩，看谁的转的时间长。冬天在他们院子里还玩过抓麻雀，就是着雪地上支一箩筐，用长长的绳子拴着，箩筐下放些小米，等麻雀钻进去后，一拉绳子就逮住一个的那种。总之是感觉那时候是玩的很开心很简单。
那次多年后再看奶妈一家时，家里已经是儿孙满堂了，看得出大人们对改革开放以后生活的变化还是比较满意的。毕竟，现在的农村已经家家通电通水了，有电视了，吃穿也不愁了。然而，当问起一个一个的小孩子的情况的时候，令人有些伤心。家里有几个女孩子年纪轻轻就不上学了，主要还是因为家穷，家里需要重点培养男孩子。另外农村人对女孩子的传统观念好像没有变化多少，重男轻女依然严重，认为女孩子以后总归要嫁人，花钱在女孩子身上没有多大用处。和那几个小侄女聊过天之后，感觉一个个都挺聪明伶俐的，真可惜早早就不念书了，在家帮大人干农活。回来后经常吃饭期间给女儿聊起这个情况，也经常想带她下次回国时再看看她们。
后来也许是这些事情在家里唠叨多了，让女儿有了很深的印象，所以她写下这个反映农村重男轻女的问题短篇故事。记得当时读过之后，有些情节让人觉得天真好笑。在她想象中的中国农村家里好像家家都有冰箱厨房卫生间什么的，人们还按时早上有面包吃早茶早点等等，这实在不是那里农村人的真实写照。然而，她所刻画的农村女孩子勤劳吃苦尊老敬幼渴望知识希望受到和男孩子一样的爱待和对未来美好生活的向往，是很值得赞美和欣赏的。
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洛南的早晨
梅那天赶在太阳升起来前就起床了。她脑子里只有一件事，今天是开学的第一天。她悄悄地溜出了房间，往卫生间走去。她瞅了一眼正在睡梦中年迈的爷爷奶奶，他们的温柔鼾声依然可以听到。她在黑暗中刷了牙齿，轻轻地漱了口，希望没有把漱口水吐到小小的池子外面在。
整个房子非常安静，除了厨房水龙头上滴答滴答轻轻地漏下的水。梅打开柜子，翻出了深蓝色的背包，那一刻，它盯着它非常的亲切。她瞎忙了一会，先是调节了一下亮黄色的条带，然后检查了三遍，以确保前面袋子里至少有两只铅笔，尽管她知道在前一天她已经把两只铅笔放在那里了。她最后终于满意了，轻轻地把书包放在了地上。
然后，她越过靠着厨房睡觉的大猫，它喵了一声，黄色的大眼睛瞪着她。她给生锈黑色水壶加了水，打开炉子把它放在上面。她畏畏缩缩地拉出吱吱作响的抽屉，拿出六个矮胖的大茶杯子，摆放在桌子上。然后，她又急忙拿下一个杯子，她想起他们不再需要它了。
梅打开小小的冰箱，取出前一天她放在里面的一块粗糙的黑面。洗过她的手，她开始揉面。她瞥了一眼窗外，太阳刚刚从地平线上升起，粉红色的阳光照亮了房子周围整个院落，并透过布满灰尘的窗户照到她的脸上。她微微眯上眼睛，仿佛感觉四周的脏乱，灰尘以及洛南大地上那片无边无际的田野消失不见了，她好像到了另外一个的地方。也许是欧洲，她随意地幻想着。她曾经看过欧洲的照片，那是在她父亲带回家的一本世界风情的小画册里。梅对画册里面欧洲的那部分照片印象最深，那里有繁华的都市，明亮的灯火和粉红色的面孔。她不识字，她父亲大声地读出照片的字幕给她。 “湖泊和河流流淌着清澈透明的水”，她父亲若有所思地说着。 “景色是那么的绿，你难以想象的。哪里的人爱吃蜗牛！”。这话立即引起她恶心地”EWWW！“了一声。他们都笑了起来。梅在想，也许有一天她会去哪里去。但是，她不会吃任何蜗牛。
突然，吱吱作响的开门声打断了她的白日梦，她回过神来，又开始来回揉起面团。面团揉好后，她拖起一只沉重的大铁锅放在火上开始做饭。
当她的母亲和弟弟早上起来到了厨房的时候，热气腾腾的早餐已经摆放在桌子上。梅给母亲泼她一杯茶，小心翼翼生怕洒出一滴滚烫的水。她母亲并没有在意她，只是帮着她的弟弟坐好在椅子上，目光一刻都没有离开他。
“今天要好好学习呀，金！” 她的母亲说着。她的弟弟大名实际叫Jin Long，中文的意思是“金色的龙”，这个名字是代表着强大有力量。每次念到这个名字，就使她想起她经常在布满灰尘的自己房间里一遍又一遍的看着的漫画书里的一个伟大的英雄人物，或者是中国古代的一个强大有力的皇帝的形象。她从来没有写过自己的名字，她知道那是代表梅花，“漂亮”的意思。
“好...” 金不耐烦的回答着母亲，一边在椅子上晃动着他那胖乎乎的小腿。他的脸颊红彤彤的，眼睛清澈明亮，睫毛黑黝黝的，这个五岁的男孩从生下来就被宠爱。
梅在厨房里徘徊了一阵，等待她年迈的爷爷奶奶醒来吃早点。通常，他们不会起床那么早，但今天是个特殊的日子。几分钟后，他们加入了母亲和金的早餐桌上。只有这时，梅才毕恭毕敬地坐下来。
“你！” 她的母亲突然咆哮着对她，吓了她一跳。 “快给你弟弟剥苹果！” 梅赶紧站了起来。苹果又大又红的，是一种不太常见的品种。据她爷爷说，多吃苹果可以让大脑更好的工作，而今天就是重要的日子。梅剥着苹果，口水都快留下来了，但她知道，只要她敢吃一口，手臂上很快就会有母亲或奶奶的一巴掌。她把苹果切成小片，小心得递给弟弟，金吃的很快，果汁滑下他的下巴。几乎是自动的，梅赶紧起身，帮他擦掉嘴边的果汁。
“你记得缝补完我的裙子啊？” 母亲厉声地说道。梅突然感到一点害怕，因为今天上午匆匆忙忙，她已经把这事情给忘了。
“不，” 她喃喃地说，低下头。 “对不起，我忘了。”
“没用的东西！” 她母亲摇着头，厉声地说。 “难道我养的你就这么健忘？你什么事情做对过？去，现在就给我做。”
梅离开早餐桌，进到一个小房间，开始着角落里的缝纫机上干了起来。
金要出门上学了，梅手中的活还没有干完。她关掉了机器，匆匆吃下一块硬面包早餐，一把拎地上的起书包挎在肩上，准备出门。她的母亲帮着金从座位上下来，抱着他并在他脸颊大大的吻了一下。
“儿子，你今天会学得很棒！” 她微笑着说。每次看到母开心的微笑，梅都很喜欢，即使这微笑不是对她。这微笑会让她乌黑头发下的阴霾的心情消逝，会使她疲惫的眼睛里重新燃起新的生机。
“课堂上要多举手回答问题啊？” 奶奶补充说，透过那厚厚的眼镜眯着眼睛对金叮咛。
“还要尊敬老师听老师的话，” 她爷爷一边说，一边努力地从椅子上站了起来。他轻轻拍了拍金的头，梅看见他的关节有些肿了起来，她提醒自己今天得给爷爷买些药了。
“他知道的，” 她的母亲充满爱意地说。 “你什么都知道，是吧，宝贝？”
“但是你...” 她补充道，转过身来对着梅，笑容渐渐地消失。 “把你弟弟照顾好，过马路时要当心。“
梅乖乖的点点头，她带着弟弟出了门，弟弟兴高采烈地挥挥手给家人告别。他们离开邻里，走到一个尘土飞扬的马路，边上有几个孤零零的摊贩摆摊，贩卖一些旧杂志和手工制品。梅紧紧抓着弟弟的手，穿过马路。学校大概超过一英里远，两分钟时间，他们一路走着没有说话。
爸爸什么时候会回家？” 金尖着嗓子突然问。梅有些回避这个的问题，并没有立即回答。他们的父亲在离家很远一个农场干活，两个星期最多回来一次。几个星期前，他出了一次事故，被卷入一台拖拉机下面。当被送到医院的时候，人已经来不及抢救了。梅和家人几天后才得到消息。她母亲严格指示，不让他们告诉金，但梅不知道怎么能一直给弟弟隐瞒这个消息。
“我不知道，” 她含糊地说。 “希望不久吧。” 她大胆的撒谎，目光不忍直视弟弟。她目光转向另一方，仿佛看见父亲在无色荒凉的土地上干着活。但当她转身回来时候，泪水已经模糊了她的眼睛。
“我希望爸爸很快回来，”金一边说，一边在她身边跳着。 “他答应带我去城里。” 梅只是点点头。每月前往城里只是买些家里没有的东西，并卖一些东西换点钱回来。梅在金出生以前也只去过城里一次。她那时只有七岁，现在已经不记得了多少当时的情景了，只是记得愤怒的汽车喇叭声和嘈杂的人声把她吓坏了。但是，她还是喜欢那次行程，因为她单独和爸爸有时间在一起。但是，当金出生后，他曾经的对她的注意力完全失踪了，因为他的每一刻都在家里那个小弟弟 - 奇迹般的儿子身上，他一直想要一个儿子。 “这是我的小皇帝，” 他给儿子起名叫金龙，就是他的小皇帝的意思。
想起父亲的那种腔调让梅感到一丝痛苦。她使劲的抓了一下金的小手，金有些疼痛让她放手。
他们终于到了学校。这是一个小建筑，外面看上去是脏兮兮的红砖砌成的，上面一个褪色的牌子写着“洛南公立小学”。其他各个年龄段学生都往里面走，一些学生看起来像青少年，是大孩子，一些看起来比金还小。梅把书包递给弟弟，帮他背好，再次调整了一下黄色的带子。 “努力学习啊，” 她坚定地告诉他。弟弟点了点头，没想到突然给了她一个大大的拥抱。 “我想问问我的老师欧洲的故事！”他说。几天来第一次，梅笑了。
她看着他走进了学校。他的双手抓着背包，头扬起地高高的。她仿佛看见他坐在一个闪亮的书桌边，小手握着铅笔，这铅笔是她前一天用小刀仔细削尖过的。她又仿佛看见他长大了，进了大学，搬到了异国情调的城市。而她会怎么样呢？
突然，学校的铃声响了。梅转过身，开始走回家，她还有很多衣服要缝补。
A Morning in Luonan
Mei got up that morning before the sun had even risen. There was only one thing on her mind. It was the first day of school. Quietly, she slipped out of the room she shared with her elderly grandparents, whose gentle snores could still be heard even as she crept to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth in the dark, and spit quietly, hoping she didn't miss the tiny sink.
The house was perfectly silent, except for the gentle drip dripof the leaky faucet in the kitchen. Opening a cabinet, Mei dug out a bright blue backpack and, for a moment, stared at it lovingly. She fussed with it, adjusting the cheery yellow straps and triple checking that there were at least two pencils in the front pouch, although she knew she had already put them there the day before. Finally satisfied, she gently set the pack on the ground. Then, she stepped over the family's giant cat sleeping by the kitchen door, who hissed anyway and stared at her with reproachful yellow eyes. She filled a rusty black kettle up with water, and set it on the stove to boil. Wincing at the loud creak of the drawers, she set up six large, chunky mugs on the table. Then, she hastily put one away, remembering that they no longer needed it anymore.
Opening up the tiny fridge, Mei brought out the bit of rough, dark dough she had put in the night before. Washing her hands, she kneaded it and watched the sun peek out from the horizon. Pinkish light filtered through the dusty window onto her face, and lit up the courtyard around her house. If she just squinted a little bit, she could pretend like the trash and dust and endless rice fields of Luonan, China didn't exist, could pretend like she was somewhere else. Maybe Europe, she thought absently. She had seen pictures once, when her father had brought home a small photo album of places around the world. Mei remembered the European section the most, with its lavish cities, bright lights, and pink faces. She couldn't read, but her father read bits of the captions out loud for her. “The lakes and rivers there have the clearest water,” her father had said wistfully. “And the scenery is so green, you won’t believe it. And the people love to eat snails.” That had caused her to go “ewww!” and they both laughed. One day she would go there, Mei decided now. But she wouldn’t eat any of the snails.
The sound of a door creaking open snapped her out of her daydream, and she jumped, going back to kneading the dough. When it was ready, she dragged the heavy metal sheet over the fire.
By the time her mother and younger brother came into the kitchen, breakfast was steaming on the table. Mei poured her mother a cup of tea, careful not to spill a drop of the scalding water. Her mother ignored her and helped her brother into his seat, eyes focused only on him.
Study well today, okay Jing?” her mother said. Her brother’s name was actually Jing Long, which meant "golden dragon" in Chinese. It was a strong name that often reminded Mei of the heroes she read about in her comic books or of a great Chinese emperor of the past, with powerful, bold looking characters that she liked to trace over and over again in the dusty ground of her room. She didn’t write her own name nearly as much. It only meant “pretty.”
"Okay,” Jing said in response to the question, swinging his chubby legs in his seat. With red cheeks and clear eyes framed with long, dark lashes, the five-year-old was doted upon.
Mei lingered in the kitchen for a few more moments, waiting for her elderly grandparents to wake up. Usually, they wouldn’t get up so early in the morning, but today was a special day. After a couple of minutes, they joined her mother and Jing at the breakfast table. Only then did Mei sit down, bowing her head respectfully.
You!” her mother barked suddenly, making her jump. “Help your brother peel his apple!” Mei quickly got to her feet. Apples as big and red as that one were rare to come by, but according to her grandfather, helped get the brain working, which was important for today. Mei’s mouth watered as the peeled the apple, but knew that if she had any it would only equal a slap on the arm by her mother or grandmother. So she cut up the pieces carefully and gave them to Jing, who ate it so quickly that juice slid down his chin. Almost automatically, Mei got up again and helped him wipe it away.
"And did you remember to finish sewing my skirt?” her mother snapped. With sudden horror, Mei realized that with all the distraction this morning, she hadn’t.
"No,” she muttered, bowing her head. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”
"Useless!” her mother said, shaking her head. “Did I raise you to be so forgetful? Have you done anything right before? Go, do it right now.”
Abandoning her own breakfast, Mei left the table to sit at the smaller one at the corner of the room, where she started the machine.???? ?By the time they had to leave for school, she still wasn’t finished. She turned off the machine, then hastily wrapped up her breakfast, a single hard piece of bread with a cloth and slung the bookbag over her shoulder, ready to go. Her mother helped Jing from his seat, giving him a huge kiss on the cheek.
"You’ll do great today, my son,” she said, smiling. Mei liked it when her mother smiled, even when it wasn’t directed at her. It made the gray in her dark hair fade away, brought life to her tired eyes.
"Raise your hand a lot in class,” her grandmother added, squinting at him through thick glasses.
"But be respectful to the teacher,” her grandfather said, getting up from the chair with effort. He patted Jing’s head, and Mei saw that his joints had swollen up again. She reminded herself to get him some more medicine today.
"He knows,” her mother said lovingly. “You know everything, don’t you?”
"And you,” she added, smile fading when she turned to address Mei. “Take care of your brother. Watch it when you’re crossing those roads.”
Mei nodded obediently and she led her brother out the door, where he waved cheerfully to their family. They exited their neighborhood and walked to a dusty road, where a few lone street vendors were set up, selling everything from old magazines to handmade fans. Mei took her brother’s sticky hands in hers when they crossed the road. School was over a mile away, and for a couple of minutes, they walked in silence.
"When's daddy coming home?” Jing piped up after a while. Mei winced at the question, and took her time answering. Their father worked in a rice field far from where they lived, and came home at most once every two weeks. A couple of weeks ago, he got involved in a tractor accident; by the time he was sent to the hospital, it was too late. Mei and her family got the letter days later. By her mother’s strict instructions, they still hadn’t told Jing, but Mei wasn’t sure how to hide it anymore.
"I don’t know,” she said vaguely. “Hopefully soon.” Lying so blatantly caused her to look away, and she focused hard on the colorless fields in the distance, where she used to picture her father working. She only turned back when the tears were gone from her eyes.
"I hope it’s soon,” Jing said, skipping along beside her. “He promised he would take me to the city.” Mei just nodded. The monthly trip to the city was essential to getting supplies they didn’t have at home, as well as transiting money. Mei had been only once, before Jing was born. She had only been seven then, and didn’t remember much except that the angry honks of the cars and shouting people frightened her. Nevertheless, she had enjoyed the trip because she got to spend time alone with her dad. But once Jing had been born, his once devoted attention to her had disappeared, as he spent every moment he was home with her brother, the miracle son he had always wanted. “Wo de xiao huang shang,” he had called Jing. His little emperor.
Her father's voice in her head brought a fresh wave of pain to Mei, and she clutched Jing’s small hand so tightly he complained for her to let go.
They eventually reached the school, a small building with dirty red bricks and a faded sign reading “Luonan Public School”, just on time. Other students of all ages were walking inside, some teenagers that looked like men, some little kids even smaller than Jing. Mei handed Jing his backpack and helped him put it on, adjusting the yellow straps once again.
"Study hard,” she told him firmly. He nodded, and unexpectedly, gave her a big hug. “I want to ask my teacher about Europe!” he said, and for the first time in days, Mei smiled.
She watched him walk into the school, hands clutching both straps of his backpack and head held high. She pictured him sitting in a shiny desk, small hand clutching the pencil she had sharpened so carefully with a knife the day before. She pictured him growing up, going to college, moving to an exotic city. Where would she be? The bell to the school rang.
Abruptly, Mei turned around and began to walk home. She had a lot of sewing to do.
