Spring Season: The Beginning of Spring
At dinner, mother told my brother and me, "Today is Dad's birthday, let's buy a cake." Suddenly, I was filled with guilt because I had never remembered my father's birthday. Then, I suddenly remembered when in Wuxi, the park where she and I said her birthday was just on the beginning of spring day. I thought we must remember to bless her. After a few days of thinking about it, I eventually forgot. What a selfish person! But even if I am a selfish person, I can still recall one day. May 4th, a birthday is the only thing I remember clearly. I deliberately started remembering, but later, I did not forget. In fact, May 4th is not Youth Day for him; I think his birthday is August 1st.
Gypsophila: A Ghost Story...
I am especially afraid of midnight 0:00, open fields, the moon in the sky. The rise of the moon like frost. And when you turn around, there is a shadow. Her friends have no shadow, however, you indeed have a shadow. Who gave you the shadow? At 0:00 when the moon is directly overhead, and should not have a shadow, who is accompanying you on your back?
Each time, at 0:00 when I enter the room, my heart keeps being scared. Even in the room, I can't help but take a look behind, in the end, there is no shadow. This time, at 0:00, Chou Chou sky, besides the bright moon, there are still a sky full of sparkling stars. Suddenly, the sky full of stars dilutes the yin terror of ghosts. On the day away from home, occasionally seeing the moon, stars farther and farther. Do not want to be philosophers, ignoring science, did not see the stars really think they sparkle vanished, like the fairy tale of the original minds of the flashing light, the light gone.
Impressively emotional text on the wings remember, write a letter of greetings, paper cranes in a car accident in hospital days, a partner of childhood: looking at the stars up to the shining sky. However, outside the home, do not know what star there is for me.
Jujube, Yard, Grandma Too: That old tile house, its old walls, the tendency hospital, an old wood stick support. Old tile house sitting east of the west, the walls of the door and tilt, but two meters away. However, so the space of two meters, next door to uncle house of the jujube tree and put it all covered. Always very green but very thin not too lush of the jujube tree, I have never seen fruit.
Small yard, an old man. The elderly, blue eyes, kind of like white clouds against the backdrop of blue sky blue, clean, full of goodness. Old age is really big, lean, but the physique is also straight. The elderly, the voices, seems pretty good effort. The elderly, the grandmother of my grandmother too, my father. Blue eyes, eye cancer. Too grandmother in the eyes of the blue cloud, the United States, but it is a deadly cancer. This blue cloud, too grandmother, spent almost half a century in the dark.
Yard, crumbling walls around the courtyard, is a grandmother too outdoor-only space. Sun, coaxing me to play, and storytelling. Even spoiled my grandma’s too, will accompany me in the foot of weeding. Every spring, the soil foot of the wall will always get a lot of jujube seedlings. The small leaves little prick people. But also there are many courageous grass coming out to compete and their nutrients. Small Jujube, too grandmother will be in my coquetry, and I squatted on the foot of the wall a little bit of Jujube are weeding. Hand will always be from time to time Jujube leaves dive to too grandma always impatient, distressed and rubbed my hand and told me little darling. In the end, the blue cancer, taking too Grandma.
According to custom, too grandmother in the last stage of the seriously ill were sent back to the home of the adoptive son. Cancer so that more and more pain the last month, I did not see too Grandma. The father said, until the last, too grandmother a very clear sense, has been thinking about her great-granddaughter, and several great-grandson. At that time, because the school sports competitions, training, not to leave. Too grandma died, I also moved back to her parents. Been to the old house, but also willow green of the season. All, less of a blue-eyed elderly.
Still, the walls slanting For fall, the foot of a little mixed jujube seedlings. However, no one care about the Jujube their. West facing wooden doors, paint traces stained window of the stone tables covered with moss. Stone stepped down, and some small bowl, cup, stone stools, props of childhood with every family. Silence yard next door uncle home, jujube, still branches off the wall and cast a green shadow, too and my grandmother’s yard. However, then silence.
Blue eyes of the elderly hearty sound, the coquetry sound of the little girl, too quiet. The kind of silence, the yard alone, lonely walls, jujube seedlings of helplessness, is indifferent cruelty to the time the dust buried life.
The Yangliuqing Green, kite fly, this season, too grandmother, she is gone. Are not. The site of the old house, now is the cousin of the new house. The subconscious, the old house still, the walls are still jujube seedlings are still happy to listen to stories too grandma arms still.
Whose heart is full of stories,
Who my innocence dance
Who I dream of flying,
Who is, let me in this season the total miss!
---- Bamboo thin plums the sparse 2010/3/16