The moon is full, and it's a day for thousands of miles away from home but sharing the beautiful moon with family together.

The Mid-Autumn Festival in my childhood was just a bright moon, and the moon cake that was sweet, fragrant and as round as the moon. The flavors of assorted vegetables, jujube puree, five kernels, raisins and so on when I was young are far less than the wide variety of flavors today, but they are wrapped in the flavor called homesick.

As we work hard away from home, images of hometown often appear in our minds: that is the scented vegetable rice in the hands of mother; that is the strong expectation in the eyes of father; that is the most beautiful accent we have heard; that is us endless thoughts in my heart. Our hometown is just a small corner on the vast expanse of China, but on the night of August 15th, we most hope that the moonlight will illuminate that place.

Every year flowers look the same as time flies, but it's not true that people do. This year was the fireflies on the Mid-Autumn Festival night to accompany you?

For the drilling workers who are working hard on the front line, the Mid-Autumn Festival was not only the moon cakes in their hands, but also misses and distances.

On the high drilling platform, the steel plate under the foot is constantly shaking, and the heavy drill bit is roaring in the big underground. Workers in red helmets and red clothes, like a red flag under the moonlight, where the moon raised, is my home. Amid the deafening sound of the drilling rig, everyone worked methodically. The driller steadily operated the brake lever, the inside and outside fitters worked together to connect single joint the other personnel performed their duties and followed up in an orderly manner, deeply burying homesick in their hearts, and silently swaying sweat on the distant earth.

You are drilling workers, stationed at the front home in the yellow earth, and miss the distant home in the moonlight.

Take a bite of the small mooncake, the familiar, waxy sweetness, does it evoke the paintings of your hometown in your heart: that is under the stone bridge where Basho listens to the rain; that is the ancient and desolate Gobi desert; that is a coastline of vast expanse of blue sky; that is the Changbai Mountain with covering snow. Whether you are a prodigal son who thinks about boats in the south or a ranger who thinks about horses in the north, you can't forget the familiar accent after you leave your hometown; but you are always thinking about your family after leave home.

At Mid-Autumn Night, the one whose family is together is fortunate. With family, laying offerings on the altar and pouring a glass of light wine to sacrifice the moon in the remote sky, and deceased relatives. What drilling workers can do was looking up to the heavens, silently blessing the distant family, silently asking home in heart whether the moon was round and big.

The night was cold, the moon was like water, misses burying into heart deeply, the firm and persistent man really wanted to cut it off with a knife, and let them no longer looking at the family photo with tearful eyes. Hope misses accompanying with the moonlight, and wandering shallow singing, the wind could send them to distant places, with you at Mid-Autumn night, do a family dream.