Memories... of people I may never see again.

 　　A while ago, after class, as I was leaving the computer lab to go back to the classroom, it started to rain. Everyone around me was holding books over their heads and running back to the classroom quickly. But I didn't do that. Maybe I like the feeling of being in the rain, or maybe it's because I hate the way my books get wrinkled from the rain. I walked back step by step. Suddenly, I heard some cheers. I looked up and saw a couple. The boy was using his books to shield the girl's head. I was instantly filled with envy, and it reminded me of you.

　　I thought of times when I had people who cared for me, people who listened to my complaints about my daily troubles, and people who sang for me. Maybe it wasn't their choice, and even though they didn't sing well, I would still listen to them over and over again with a smile.

　　This time last year, I was still very happy. Although I was ostracized by my classmates because of the teacher's favoritism, I still received daily calls of special concern from my classmates. There were always people trying to make me happy, teasing me, or being teased by me, telling me that life isn't always fair, and urging me to study hard. Then I would complain that you were nagging, like my parents, or like an old woman nagging. You always managed to win me over

　　, leaving me both amused and exasperated. Later, I became more open-minded and stopped worrying about the gains and losses in friendships. Looking back now, perhaps it was because I didn't let them into my heart that they became insignificant. Thinking back to that time, my dream was to get into the school you attended.

　　Later, I understood many things, but no one ever told me that you would also leave me. I've told you about my dream: to have my own lavender field, a simple cottage, to be a free person, to do what I love, to sit in the lavender field watching the sunrise and sunset, serene and undisturbed by worldly affairs. But I haven't had a chance to tell you yet, I hope that sitting in the lavender field, watching the sunrise and sunset, serene and undisturbed, I'll have you beside me.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Read attentively

 　　When I was little, my grandfather always used stories like "hanging one's head from the beam and pricking one's thigh with an awl," "borrowing light by chiseling a hole in the wall," and "studying by the light of snow" to encourage me to study hard. At that time, I was clueless and didn't understand why. It wasn't until I entered society and began to understand the world that I grasped the profound meaning of "studying." Books are silent sages; though they are wordless, they teach us how to be a person, and what kind of person we should be. 　　Reading attentively can lead to love. From the poem, "By day they weed the fields, by night they spin hemp; the village children each take charge of their own affairs. Even the young grandchildren, not yet understanding farming and weaving, learn to plant melons under the shade of mulberry trees," we can read the love of rural men, women, and children for their labor. From the po...
Read more

The lotus pond has clear water

 　　The ancient city boasts a lotus pond, just a stone's throw from the bustling Yuhua Road, easily accessible. Within the garden lies a ten-acre lotus pond, with Kunlang Garden to the southwest. A massive Taihu rock, riddled with holes, stands before the moon gate, backed by a clump of bamboo. The south-facing house features a three-sided corridor, with a small, elegant, and tranquil courtyard paved with bluestone, free from traffic and noise. Every morning, a group of elderly people, bathed in the morning sun, hold long brushes, their ink flowing from the lotus pond, their characters imbued with the fragrance of red lotus blossoms. They find joy in writing calligraphy on the ground, appearing almost like immortals. 　　This is truly—a harmonious blend of regular, cursive, official, and running scripts, dragons soaring and phoenixes dancing. They refine and polish their skills, achieving the strength and elegance of Yan Zhenqing and Liu Gongquan. They compose Tang and Song poems, Han...
Read more

The joy of stealing time

 　　My favorite line from the Tang Dynasty poet Li She's poem "Inscribed on the Wall of Helin Temple" is the second half: "Passing by a bamboo grove, I met a monk and chatted; stealing half a day of leisure from this busy life." The poet, taking a break from the hustle and bustle of the world, climbed a mountain and unintentionally chatted for a long time with a high-ranking monk. He found a rare moment of peace amidst the troubles of the world, something that made him very proud! Therefore, the poet used the word "steal," which I think is brilliantly chosen. It doesn't mean stealing someone else's belongings in the ordinary sense, nor does it harm anyone's interests. The poet simply secretly enjoyed a moment of leisure that others cannot. 　　I believe stolen time is the most comfortable, and I also have a habit of stealing time. I am a sensitive person, and I usually open my eyes at five o'clock in the morning. At that time, the sky is j...
Read more