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by Sarah Tafolla 19 days ago in Short Story
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When we were young, we were always carefree, and when we grew up, we always remembered the past.

Photo by Jackson David on Unsplash

When we were young, we were always carefree, and when we grew up, we always remembered the past. I think of me as a child, letting my father lead me, walking on the winding path, the gentle green weeds, friendly and gentle brush on my little feet. He loved to sing, and his loud voice resonated through the valley, and I babbled along with him, singing "We all have a home, the name is China ......" at one point. One day I'll be singing "Fly slowly, my dear, be careful of the thorny roses in front of you ......" The children's songs are like a breeze rubbing across the water, rubbing the shallow ripples.

  In that narrow house, mom and dad from the mountains were a basket of peppers back, every year in the summer, I have to silently do to cut peppers. A pound a dollar, the whole summer down, my little purse is always stuffed with bulging, touch it, somehow at ease. I remember once, with my mom and dad buying peppers on the highway, people always like to leave barbs to account for weight. The owner of the pepper collection pointed to the small basket of peppers I cut and said, this is what qualified. You don't know, at that time, I was like filled with sweet honey, proud inside, the corners of my mouth couldn't help but turn upward and upward.

  There is no way to say sadness, it is raining again outside, in this sluggish autumn, and the frost is covering the roof inch by inch, like the snow that I missed that year. Another endless quarrel, in the dark, who saw my back sitting on the sofa eloquent? Tears flowing, whimpering unclear, just in their hearts added a strand of boredom, sometimes want not to cry, but can not suppress the emotions in the heart. The most important thing in life is that it's difficult to be in the same boat. Is it really difficult to be both?

  When I think about the past, many words of a wake-up call, I feel inexplicable, like holding a ticket to find where the door is. When I went to the hospital, I saw the cold expressions on the faces of those people, and I felt the coldness of the world. Watching my mother begging in a low voice, I looked around and observed, if I were to come to the doctor alone, which step should I start with. I thought of the TV novel, someone in the family fainted, if you don't call the emergency number, by yourself to the hospital, whether someone will be the first to rush out? Or do I put down the unconscious family member and go to the registration line, or where should I take them? All these want to roam the mountain of smoke clouds, confused me, but no one answers.

  With the heavy burden of thought, how could I possibly do it, thinking about nothing and studying well? exclusive article may not be reproduced without permission

  The day I got lost at the intersection of the turn, the purple wisteria waterfall blossomed enthusiastically, the long river of life is endless, and we all learn to face life with a smile. The sound of petals suddenly blooming sounded softly between the ears, a light wisp of sadness like a bead of ink-stained in clear water, so far, there is no trace of it.

  The first thing you need to do is to get a good idea of what you're getting into. It is not logical, with their imagination, dotted with one childish dream after another. I was probably not good at sports by nature, and when I was in elementary school, everything had to be covered with a layer of metaphysical colors. Who does not have a princess dream in their heart? The physical education teacher taught me to play volleyball, I treat it as a spiritual spirit, talking, thinking, and I often talk to myself about it. I also once laid a warm nest for it with all my heart, playing a basin of water, white clouds swept the blue sky, I washed it, not happy.

  The ancestral house cracked scar, that is the masterpiece of the year's manipulation, leaving the mountain pass, slowly little by little to the legendary happiness close, but forget the original intention. When I was a kid, I was good at imagining, my thoughts drifted, and the sky was the limit. I was always curious about everything unfamiliar, and I missed the majestic and unclear songs that floated in the valley. Because of my young age, I can do whatever I want. I still remember that I used to carry a stick, on the slope of the hill ghost number, see someone coming, and immediately hide in the bushes; I still remember that I and my sister, a year younger than me, together with the east and west jump, play house is a game we never get tired of playing. Now, things have changed, everything has become unrecognizable to me.

  If I were not a teenager looking and wandering at the crossroads, but they were, working hard for their families and fighting for their children, what would be the vicissitudes of my state of mind? I'm looking forward to growing up, but I'm also afraid of growing up, so I can't wait to hide under the covers and sleep it off. In life, we always have too much uncertainty, one step at a time solid growth, and believe that we will be the master of fate. However, I'm a bit stage frightened, the curtain ripped an opening, the wind rushed in, and the roof shook.

  Knowing the slow inner peace, I know that this day is a memory again, tomorrow is a new chapter, and my future is still long. I just hope that I can slowly learn to grow up properly, gaining lightly and losing lightly. The worries in life, like seaweed eating away at the mind, each expects, to become better. People get along with each other like a test, it seems to become so difficult. Is it possible to relax and be flawless?

*** Translated with (free version) ***

Short Story

About the author

Sarah Tafolla

From now on there is only writing on the road

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