Since the father left, in memory, the Ching Ming Festival will always rain. Recently sunny days, many people wear short-sleeved shirts and think that there will be no rain. The night before, suddenly the winds began to blow, and then began to plunge. I listened to the sound of raindrops dripping on a waterproof rain cover outside the window, and my thoughts began to drift farther, as far as I had approached the grave.
The next morning, we drove in the countryside. Along the way, in the humid air, it seems that there is a vague mourning everywhere, and the misty grainy rain seems to be telling a full thought.
Home, still the home, it is still there. Only the person who smiled at us from time to time to meet us was no longer there. Only locked doors, full of weeds.
Hold up an oil paper umbrella, that is when the father is still there. Above, maybe the taste of a father, right? I sniffed hard but only smelled mildew and rust. I held the paper umbrella tightly in my hand and my eyes blurred.
The father was on the hill opposite the road at home. Cross the road, and then go around the foot of the mountain, then turn to come to his father. The father's place is still the same, and the unknown weeds and wildflowers surround the entire tomb. Beside, firecrackers were burned, paper money was burned, and there were other things like incense wax, tobacco, and wine inside the tomb door.
I kept saying to my father that I'm sorry. I didn't come to give my father a grave on the Spring Festival and send it to the New Year. As a daughter, it's hard to justify, but I also have my difficulties. During the Spring Festival, when I was alone at home with my daughter, I didn't go anywhere. Should I be afraid of someone returning to this place? The warm home yesterday was only full of desolation. It was not a pleasure to think of all these things in my heart. The mother is not at home. Where do I come from? With a young daughter, what can I do for my dear father? Then the daughter couldn't ride a car quietly at all. He always had to drink water for a while while in the car. He had to eat for a while. The most annoying thing was to hug. Several times one took her out and was driving while driving. Let her lean on my shoulder to sleep. Thinking about these troublesome troubles, I always hesitate to take her back with her.
Burn some paper money for my father, only wishing to have another world. In that world, you have big houses, big cars, food, clothes, and everything that we send to you. Only, you are missing us. Our world and your world are separated by an unreachable distance. One life, one death, isolating all the ways that lead to you and lead us. Only the distant thoughts and thoughts that are lost in the paper money that have been burned to you will fly away, let them die, and let them take you to that world.
Insert a white chrysanthemum, hold your own homeland, and gently sprinkle on your grave. Hearing your current situation and thoughts at your grave. The clear and bright rain has always been such a good time. It has been cut off in a rainy way and I have been waiting for pedestrians all the way. It can cover up the wet eyes, but it can't cover the thoughts. In the rainy curtain that slowly walks, as if to see you again in the shadow of your trousers with a gimmick, you hear your habitual intermittent coughing…
A few curtains dipped in rain, dropping drops of human intestines. Sauvignon Blanc, with hardship. Dreams break off, little tears. Another year is grass green, I miss you, where are you? How can I finish my thoughts by folding a bunch of white chrysanthemums? Looking back, everywhere is your kindness, and you have been blamed.