Watching the swallows returning to the north play in groups, children in three or five villages are playing. I also feel that over the years, my former friends and partners have gradually alienated. So far, I am the only one facing this vibrant spring alone, and I can't help but miss the innocent time many years ago.
I still remember, every time after the early spring, when the earth has shown the first touch of light green in the New Year, and the swallows in the north of Danggui are twittering on the telephone poles. We always make an appointment on a certain night to go for an outing together at the weekend.
So that morning, we all grabbed a few mouthfuls of breakfast early in the morning and went straight to Xiaoming's house under the reprimand of our parents. On the way, when we see good branches and bamboo sticks, we will pick them up.
My home is closest to Xiaoming's, so I often come out at the latest and go to bed late. But whenever I arrive, they are impatient and always complain.
At the beginning, we always have a small meeting after everyone is here, and four people exchange ideas: for example, yesterday's cartoon is good, the protagonist is like, and so on. After the meeting, we began to hit the road. At this time, it's past early morning, the morning fog has just dispersed, and there are still a few drops of dew hanging on the grass. People have started a new day's work. The early bird is full, chirping on the newly sprouted branches, and the sun shines brightly on this vibrant world.
We often take an old road, an overgrown dirt road. Although there is a newly built asphalt road not far away and there are no cars, we always step into this barren and green country road with laughter.
On the left side of the path is the village canal. The canal is naturally empty before the dry summer. Only some young grass lives in rough cracks in cement, dotted with this gray road. At first glance, this gray road with a little blue seems to extend indefinitely on the earth. On the right is a field in early spring, only grass is crowded with the field.
The four of us, Mao and Xiao Ming, all miss me. Talking and laughing; Suddenly, I grasped my good wishes and learned that the Monkey King, which was an instant hit on TV at that time, had a total annihilation, which made a newborn grass in a mess, and occasionally mixed a few words of "Hey, eat me a stick". Others often turn a blind eye to it or laugh at it. In the end, they had nothing to say, so they grabbed bamboo sticks and tried to fight. But in the end, it often becomes a game for children to chase and fight.
In the chase, we soon came to our destination: a large field. This is a treasure trove of geomantic omen that we have carefully selected and agreed upon. What's more, there is a big forest.
Under the blue sky, green fields and spring breeze, the four of us happily enjoyed this perfect and energetic spring and abandoned all our troubles. We just sat on the edge of the field, leaning against the straight tree, lying on the grass with morning dew, watching that day, listening to Yaner's notes on the distant wires and singing a light and sweet Haruka. Feel the spring breeze, feel the earth, feel your partner's breath, only the joy from the deepest part of your heart. . . . . .
But what about now?
I'm the only one left, an old playmate who was once close, and now I'm just a stranger. But when you bow your head, you don't look up, sometimes you look directly at each other. All we can do is smile awkwardly. It's just that no one knows where this smile comes from. Is it sincere or hypocritical? After Xiao Ming left a few years ago, there was no news; Although heavy hair is the same age as me and lives only a few tens of steps away, for various reasons, we rarely meet and have a distant relationship; I think it is the best relationship at present, but it is not simple.
I don't know why.
Some people call this growth. Growing up in the melody of gain and loss, sprouting from childishness and maturing, but quietly changing the once childlike innocence.
I wonder if this is still the growth we are so eager for?
In this spring, I miss the lost spring.