Flowers in memory

After a few swift and violent rainstorms, the sky in the city became dim. Perhaps because of the influence of climate, my mood also became gloomy and thoughtful. On such a rare cool summer day, I seem to have entered a long lane with deep and endless memories. Walking is like inadvertently meeting my daughter, who has been missing for many years..     As I said, one kind of search is an imaginary search, and another kind of imagination is an imaginary search. Like my only biological daughter, since the bleak autumn when I was four years old, I have rarely seen her face as beautiful as flowers and pure as a flower. occasionally, I have received phone calls from my daughter to express sadness and sorrow. I am always deeply touched by a sudden dream, like a windy winter day whistling through my sad mind.. My memory of my daughter seems to have been fixed before she was four years old, but I don’t like it. In many lonely and hard-to-reunite days, I am used to searching for my only daughter in the depths of my memory. I like to depict my daughter’s colorful growth in the ethereal imagination. In this way, all the past days will no longer be lonely, so all the memories about the daughter will not wither and bitter.. I believe that my happiness is not exhausted, and all parents in the world can understand or accept it.     But any imagination is not unfounded, so the short and wonderful four years with my daughter are destined to be the most beautiful and precious part of my memory.. My memory often starts with a Mercedes – Benz train, which was the spring of pink and willow green many years ago. I made a special trip from Urumqi to the south of the Yangtze River, where the smoke and rain are boundless.. Because my daughter is about to be born, because this young and pure little life is about to put my father’s solemn and great crown on my head.. I remember when I visited this picturesque town, the southern sky was falling with lyrical and continuous spring rains. This bright and cool spring rain is just like my excited and joyful mood. On the long and weary journey, I have conceived again and again the petite appearance of my daughter as pure as fresh water before birth..     Although I racked my brains, the appearance of my daughter at birth was beyond my expectation. It was a gentle evening of spring rain, and my expected daughter finally came into the world and opened my eyes with great surprise.. Looking at my daughter’s chubby pink face, my heart is intoxicated in this boundless and charming spring scenery. What I want to say most is that I was born an inexperienced daughter who led me to a feast of life or a splendid palace full of happiness and happiness.. I know that from now on, the continuous memory buried deep in my veins will not be interrupted silently by the passage of time. Because it is the lovely daughter who seems to be young, illuminating the sky of my soul and my previous journey. I think it must be so.     In the fragile marriage castle, I don’t want to say who is right or who is wrong. If I have to say something, the wrong party can only be myself. For a long time, what I want to say to my daughter most is: I’m sorry to my dear daughter, but it was dad who chose this erratic marriage of separation between the two places that created today’s separation, defect and misfortune.. I don’t want to say to my growing daughter that the biggest drawback and misfortune will be borne by her father who is desperate to wear a serious illness for the rest of his life.. I want to say that at the moment when the mirror of marriage broke into pieces in an uproar, my heart was completely broken, and my endless bitterness, pain and yearning will begin..     If you know what a dull pain is, you will know the piercing pain or unutterable sadness that you want to cry when you are away from your own flesh and blood.. How many days or nights have I been listening to my daughter’s quietly growing steps and the pure and shy bloom of a spring flower. Such a day is lonely and lonely, but it does not lack warmth and obsession. This is an awakening father, this is a father who constantly atones for sin or repents, this is a father who constantly cries out in the abyss of suffering, this is a father who persistently seeks the fragrance of spring flowers in the deep wounds..     There are many times when I like to appear in the street shaking heavy wheelchairs, in the torrent of noisy world or in the sunlight.. I long for a beautifully dressed and innocent little girl passing by me to run to me and shout loudly to my father with joy … but such a miracle did not happen in my hope.. I seem to stand blankly on the wasteland of the city or on the desert of emotion. I am very sad that I am very fragile, so deep-rooted thoughts make me almost burn both physically and mentally..     In the same persistent way, I silently appeared at the door of the primary or secondary school where my daughter was studying.. I’m looking forward to the ringing of the bell after school. I’m looking forward to a girl and boy in school uniform rushing through the school gate. A girl as sweet as sunshine came to me in surprise … but such a miracle did not happen either.. I stared at the crowd in front of me with moist hazy eyes, and I am sure my heart is submerged in this turbulent and noisy crowd at the moment.. However, I can no longer identify who is my daughter, and I can no longer accurately outline her growing face or scenery. Aware of this, I was sitting in a wheelchair in front of the school and felt very dizzy. My head seemed to be buzzing with countless flies.. I don’t know how sad I am, shaking my wheelchair to find my home. I don’t know. What I know is that there is a separation in the world that can make a flesh-and-blood body die or be born again..     When my daughter, who was admitted to Peking University, asked me in a sob voice in her long speech why you divorced at the beginning, I was speechless and my tears streamed down my face.. I want to say, my child, have you had a good time all these years? I want to say that although I didn’t hear the sound of a flower opening, I can hear the sound of a flower opening gracefully with rich imagination. I want to say that dad is sorry for you . but I squirmed my lips and couldn’t say anything. I just want to weave the most beautiful and deep wreath in the adult world with those silent burning thoughts or hidden pains and quietly place it in the warm candle flickering on my daughter’s birthday . the 1950 word westerly wind was written on her daughter’s birthday on April 16, 2008.