It's another rainy day, and the clouds are so heavy that they can't support the weight. Rain drops on the ground, and every drop hits the heart like a hammer.
Walking in the silent park, watching a haze covered by rain not far away, my mood seems to be immersed in this thin rain curtain and turned gray.
"220。" I meditate on this number, just like Susan is counting ivy leaves on the wall. I used to be scared and excited, but now I'm a little tired because of the continuous downturn. If I had known this, I would have let the end come early, so that I could get out of this damn rainy day where I can't see the sun.
Further on, a large piece of kapok has fallen on the grass and scattered in the grass. Thick petals have a dark mark, no support, no shelter, and some confusion in the rain.
I remember that these kapok were so radiant in the bright sunshine in early spring. It blooms brilliantly on the branches, and she only smiles like fire at the sun above her head. I should have been like this at that time. My naive thoughts are full of drunkenness and warmth. At that time, I was bathed in sunshine like this, thinking that I could meet my dream on tiptoe.
Now, I am like kapok in front of me, lost in a long rain. The feeling of falling from a height is painful. From sunny day to rainy day, my self-esteem and pride are soaked with tears.
But kapok, what do you look up to in the lowest weeds with tears in your eyes? Was it once glamorous, or was it the attractive scenery at the height, or ... kapok's tears fell to the ground, but there was no answer.
The rain gradually subsided, and the sun gradually looked up from the thick clouds and shone on me and kapok. I saw kapok shaking her tears, which reflected bright light. Tears and sunshine make her weather-beaten face as beautiful as ever.
I finally understand that what kapok looks up to with tears is not the glory of the past, not the bitter wind and rain. She is looking up at the sunny day through layers of clouds! The rain will always pass and it will always clear up. After the rain stopped, she still stood there. Next spring, the branches will bloom more brightly than the sun.
It is only the past that falls from a height and breaks, and it is only the childish pride of youth and ignorance that is soaked in the drizzle. And my dream is like a tall kapok tree, deeply rooted in the soil of years. After the rain clears, it still stands, and after the rain clears, it glows with new vitality.
Picking up a kapok with tears, striding forward in the sun. A few steps, turn around. Wave to the clouds on the horizon. Hello, Mao Mao Rain. Hello, sunny day!