Vase
Red Polygonum (Polygonum orchid)
I don’t like flowers by nature, but I love vases very much. Tall, short, bee-waisted, broad-bellied, light or rich, some are scattered in groups, or solitary, even without flowers, they form a landscape.
once bought two vases from an unknown store. The simple color decoration, simple shape, and generous bearing made me fall in love at first sight. During those few days, I sat alone in the hut every night, and the yellow halo of light smeared in every corner, soft and friendly. While I was reading the text, I glanced at the two vases standing next to each other. Looking at each other silently, I felt an extra warmth and calmness.
However, are you overjoyed? An inadvertent scrubbing followed by an exclamation of "Ah", and a vase slipped from my hand. The hard marble floor shattered it without mercy - completely and irreparably shattered. In an instant, my heart felt as if it had been completely ripped out by a giant hand, because I clearly remembered the words of the shop owner that day: There are no more, these are the last two.
"Finally!" These two words are ordinary but cruel. It means that I will never be able to make up for this mistake. The simple and generous vase will no longer be there because of my negligence. I feel that what I have lost is not just a vase, but an old friend whom I have known for many years, a happy elf who brings me joy.
After a period of time, I felt empty-hearted and couldn’t get out of my mind. A complicated feeling of guilt and uneasiness lingered all the time, especially when I saw the other one alone. However, everything seems to be a foregone conclusion and I can only accept the "final" result.
was running around again, dragging his tired legs, and stepped into the door of his house. On the bookshelf in the living room facing him, a row of identical vases were neatly arranged, shining with a familiar luster. A kind of surprise, no, ecstasy, was overwhelmed from head to toe. I couldn't believe my eyes.
Later, my mother’s few words made me grateful and remember them all my life.
"Your father bought it in the old store."
"I bought an odd number specially."
"I was afraid that it would be broken when I came back, so I didn't ride the bike."
The mother said lightly, and she didn't even need to mention it without asking. And passed. As for the old shop, it is the oldest and most remote antique shop in the small town. It is so old and remote that people often forget its existence. I can't imagine how my father, in his 60s, walked through the streets and alleys, running from shop to shop; how he walked into the last old shop with his thin figure, accompanied by disappointment and the next hope. My father measured the long and shallow road of more than ten miles step by step. My deep, attentive and loving father, my gentle, wise and interesting father.
It turns out that my parents have been watching me silently from behind. Just like a big tree quietly protecting every ignorant child around you, it is a silent but most profound protection.
I want to put a bouquet of flowers in the vase, but I know that in this life, I will never find anything more beautiful than the one in my heart.
in 1997.3
