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On a summer morning, the scorching dawn did not allow me to
sleep in even a minute longer. I had to get up early and walk the streets in
a daze. The long street was deserted, making me feel a bit lonely. I plugged
in my headphones and continued to walk with my head down.
The old street had an ancient flavor that lingered in the morning air. The
moss on the walls was smooth and delicate, like a girl's hair that had been
oiled. Faintly, I seemed to hear a voice that was slightly hoarse and full
of deep affection. I remembered that I did not have any such old songs in my
playlist, so I took off my headphones to investigate. As it turned out, the
singing voice did not come from my headphones. Out of curiosity, I continued
to walk forward, and the voice became louder and louder. It was strange that
the song I heard seemed to be at least twenty years old, but I was attracted
to it. The song was full of stories and longing, and it had a taste of first
love.
Turning around a corner, I saw an elderly man with a hat and suit sitting on
a chair by the roadside, singing with deep emotion. He seemed to have
forgotten himself, forgotten the scenery around him, and forgotten the whole
world. I listened quietly, watching the sunlight falling on him. He looked
like a clean-faced young man from years ago, and memories of my past flooded
into my mind. When the song ended, I smiled and walked over. I listened to
the most ordinary but touching story: the old man sang every day because of
the woman he loved. From a young man with red lips and white teeth to an old
man with gray hair, they were devoted to each other until death. Even though
she had passed away now, he still continued their romantic habit at the
street corner. I began to believe in the old saying, "If one wishes to stay
with someone until they grow old, love must be true."
I seemed to have forgotten the scorching heat of June. That summer, I met
him, and he became a part of my youthful memories. However, unlike the old
man, I was not his only one. Looking back now, those so-called pains were
only signs of growth, and they were not enough to make me despair.
When love becomes a habit, it does not necessarily need to be spoken out
loud. Accompanying someone is the best expression of love. |
