| |
|
Cloud, Grandma's Messenger: A Reflection of Her Love |
|
|
Cloud, Are You the Message from Grandma from Another World? Are You the Gift She
Gave Me? Are You Her Everlasting Brocade Robe?
Cloud, you resemble brocade, silk, thread, and strand. You are full of
tenderness, as if Grandma is looking at me with loving eyes.
Slowly, you block the sun. At this moment, you radiate with golden light. Is
that Grandma turning into a messenger of God? She must be wearing a simple and
pure long dress with a beautiful halo above her head. Her smile is still
benevolent. You shine brighter and brighter. Grandma seems to be going to a
banquet, dressed in a gauze skirt decorated with gold and silver threads, with a
beaming smile on her face, she looks much younger. At noon, you slow down and
stop. That's because Grandma has finished lunch and is resting!
You wake up, and resting has made you full of energy, so you run forward again.
You sway left and right, as if Grandma is playing games with us under the big
pine tree in the yard!
In the evening, you are dyed pale red by the sunset, and then turn into pink,
peach, purple, crimson, and finally blood red. Whenever this happens, Grandma
must be sitting on the old wooden chair in the yard, fanning herself with a big
palm-leaf fan, telling some clichéd stories. And I am listening with relish.
You sink down. Grandma picked mushrooms from the forest and put them in a bamboo
basket, walking slowly on the path paved with blue bricks. Her slightly hunched
back has been tortured by years of hardship.
Grandma, don't go! But you smile and disappear behind the mountain. Will Grandma
come to see me again tomorrow?
Cloud, please tell me about Grandma's news anytime. Thank you. |
|
|
|
|
