Another rain, quietly falling in the middle of the night. Early in the morning, when I opened the window, I found that the alley downstairs was already crowded with umbrella flowers, and the rain was dense on the umbrella flowers, and the rain on the corrugated was constantly ticking and knocking on the banana leaves under the windowsill.
On such a humid morning, listening to the rain seems to be the most pleasant romance. It seems to be singing softly, lingering and compassionate, reaching out to cross the gutter and holding the fine rain threads, as if to hold a cold memory. The miscellaneous footsteps in the rain seem to be from far and near, and they seem to be from near to far, stirring in my heart.
In this small city in the south of the Yangtze River, rain is common, and for me, a person who lives by the Yangtze River, it seems that I can adapt quite well. Actually, I like the rainy days here, I can sit in the window of a small room in this other people's city, watching the raindrops slowly slide down from the glass window, like a wordless poem, quietly telling a nostalgia, feeling the warmth of home in the cool breeze and drizzle.
I suddenly saw a young face in the umbrella flowers, just like a girl who went to school in Beijing, delicate and dignified, delicate and elegant, she is the most important concern in my wife and my life. For two years, she was unable to go home because of studying abroad, and the seven-hour time difference, his wife would call the child's ** from time to time in the early hours of the night, just to listen to her sentence "Good morning, mother", some people say that mothers are born to live for their children.
I looked at the rain and umbrella flowers in the alley in a daze, and a scene many years later appeared in front of me, on a rainy night like today, the face that my wife and I were already familiar with stood straight outside the door, and left in a hurry without saying anything, under the bright street lamp in the alley, there was a boy with an umbrella, and they were all gone. The alley was empty, filled with dense rain, and I hugged my wife and stared at the empty alley, and the whole world became empty.
When the child grows up, she always has to have her own life, and she can't accompany us through every rainy season all her life. Only now, on a high-rise building in another city, my wife will also stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass window, forgetting the water-stained ground in the rain, whether she is missing her children in a foreign country or me in a foreign country.
My wife said that without the children by her side and without me by her side, she felt a kind of loneliness at home, and she liked the rainy day. She said that she would only have a sense of security in the interweaving of rain, and a sense of security that her children and I could be at home and not running around. And I also like rainy days, I like to look at the city like smoke in the rain, and I like to miss it in the rain.
I am in this small town far away, and you are in the high-rise building of that city, and there is rain to connect the expectations and warmth of both of us. The wandering life will inevitably make us lose a lot, but it also makes us understand the importance of companionship. In this small rain alley, looking at the umbrella flowers, I miss the warmth of my hometown.