故乡是什么？所有故乡都是从异乡演变而来。故乡是父亲流浪的最后一站。我父亲的出生，是地狱般的开局。是贫穷，是饥饿，是死亡，是生无可恋。父亲出生于中华民国13年，也就是1924年。听说父亲原本姓向，他的家乡在什么地方，至今无人可知。1930年，这是中华民国最黑暗的时期，当时天干3年，颗粒无收。就在那一年，我父亲的父亲在煤矿工作在矿难中去世了，尸骨全无。父亲唯一的弟弟就眼睁睁死在了他的怀里，因为没有任何东西可吃，一个四岁的孩子就被活活地饿死了。父亲的奶奶是个盲人，有一天她掉进厕所里面被活活地淹死了。就在那一年，父亲在一年之内就失去了他生命之中三位他最至亲的家人。6岁的父亲跟随他的母亲从他的家乡一路逃难300多天来到了山城重庆。他们母子两人到了重庆的落脚处是重庆市渝中区枣子岚垭78号。他的母亲找到了在彭占廷先生家里工作的机会。当时彭占廷先生的公馆里面每天就有28个人吃饭。他母亲就悄悄地把他藏在佣人房里，暗无天日，饥寒交迫。突然有一天彭占廷先生告诉他的母亲：“以后不必再把孩子藏在那里，让这个的孩子可以堂堂正正地出来与所有佣人一起吃饭吧。”后来彭占廷先生成为了他的继父。继父送父亲去了重庆市神仙洞小学读书。因为他的母亲嫁给了彭占廷先生。我的父亲从此改姓为彭。彭占廷先生成为了他这一生最后的父亲。新中国成立后彭占廷先生把重庆市渝中区枣子岚垭78号的这幢房子的房产证交给了我的父亲，我父亲把这幢房子赠送给了我们的国家。我父亲姓彭，我也姓彭，我的儿子还是姓彭。未来我们世世代代都会姓彭。我的父亲就是彭占廷先生唯一的儿子。15岁那年父亲离家到了南京、北平、天津，他开始闯荡全国，从此开启了他一生的传奇。他成为了傅作义将军部队的连长，他在古庙里刺杀过20多个日本人，他乘飞机到香港执行过特别任务，他还在广州谈了一场恋爱，他到西藏修建了世界上最悲壮的康藏公路，最终他在贵州乌江的一个小镇静静地离世。他不是在人生最好的时光遇见了他的父亲，因为遇见了他的父亲，他才有了这一生最好的时光。长大以后我终于明白:无论世人如何看待我，无论未来我遭遇何等的困难，在我父亲眼里，在我父亲见到我的那天开始，我就是这个世上独一无二的孩子。父亲授我以文，更育我以德，恩深似海，不敢或忘。父亲这一生经历了贫穷、战争、饥饿、生离死别。这是一个哀伤悲壮感天动地的年代故事。这就是一个6岁的山村孩子离家万里，生死茫茫……父亲是山里的娃，没见过世面，8岁那年他才进了学校。到了学校总是被同学欺负，城里的娃总嘲笑他，所以他很讨厌读书。为什么我总会对山里的娃很好，仿佛他们都是我的父亲小时候的模样。我用写作和自已对话，化解挥之不去的乡愁。
What is hometown? Every place we call hometown was once a foreign land. For my father, hometown is the final destination after a lifetime of wandering. My father’s life had a hellish beginning: poverty, hunger, death, and nothing left to live for. My father was born in the 13th year of the Republic of China, that is, 1924. I was told his birth surname was Xiang. Even now, nobody knows where his hometown was. 1930 was one of the darkest times of the Republic of China. Three years of drought came with not a single grain harvested. That same year, my grandfather died in a coal mining accident while he was working in the mine. His body was never found. My father watched helplessly as his only younger brother died in his arms. With nothing to eat, the four-year-old boy starved to death. His grandmother, who was blind, fell into a pit toilet one day and drowned. That same year, my father lost three of the people closest to him. At just six years old, my father followed his mother, fleeing for over 300 days all the way to the mountain city of Chongqing. They settled at No.78 Zaozilanya, Yuzhong District, Chongqing. His mother got a job working for Mr. Peng Zhanting in his household. Back then, twenty-eight people had their meals at Mr. Peng Zhanting’s mansion each day. His mother hid him secretly in the servants’ room. He lived in total darkness, cold and hungry. One day Mr. Peng Zhanting said to his mother: “You do not need to hide the child there anymore. Let him come out with dignity and eat alongside all the other servants.” Later, Mr. Peng Zhanting became his stepfather. His stepfather sent him to Shenxiandong Primary School in Chongqing. After his mother married Mr. Peng Zhanting, my father took the surname Peng. Mr. Peng Zhanting remained his father for the rest of his life. After the founding of the People’s Republic of China, Mr. Peng Zhanting handed over the property ownership certificate for his house at No. 78 Zaozilanya, Yuzhong District, Chongqing, to my father. My father later donated the house to our country. My father’s surname is Peng, mine is Peng, and so is my son’s. This surname will be passed down through our family for generations to come. My father was Mr. Peng Zhanting’s only son. At the age of fifteen, he left home for Nanjing, Beiping and Tianjin. He traveled across the country, and thus began his legendary life. He became a company commander in General Fu Zuoyi’s troops. He killed more than twenty Japanese soldiers in an ancient temple. He flew to Hong Kong on special missions. He fell in love while in Guangzhou. He traveled to Xizang to help build the Sichuan -Xizang Highway, one of the most arduous and tragic roads ever built. In the end, he passed away quietly in a small town along the Wujiang River in Guizhou. He did not meet his father in the best years of his life. It was meeting his father that gave him the best years of his life. When I grew up, I finally came to understand: no matter how others see me, no matter what difficulties I may face in the future, from the day my father first saw me, I was the unique kid in his eyes. My father taught me knowledge, and more importantly, nurtured my virtue. His kindness is as deep as the sea, and I will never forget it. My father went through poverty, war, hunger, separation and loss throughout his life. This is a tragic and deeply touching story of that era. This is the story of a six-year-old boy from a remote mountain village who left home and ventured thousands of miles, with his fate unknown. My father was born and raised in the mountains and knew little of the world. He did not start school until he was eight. At school, he was often bullied by his classmates. Children from the city made fun of him, and that was why he hated studying. Why have I always been so kind to children from the mountains? Perhaps because they all remind me of my father as a little boy. I turn to writing to talk to myself, trying to ease the lingering homesickness.
