Rain, rain, rain. Not quite actually. It's cloudy, misty, and is about to rain. Nothing really special for an early Spring day. Some flowers have bloomed, and some are on their way.

    Like walking in this mist, reminds me the days I was wondering around in Suzhou, the college spring break when I was still young. Hard to believe it is the 25th anniversary since graduation! My god, 25 years, what have I done!? It is such a long time, yet, I feel I have achieve little, changed much, and what I have is as little as what I had.

    I start to understand why parents will feel their children being the only, or the most proud of, accomplishment they have in their life — I probably will feel so, too, because the child is the only thing you must stick around, can't easily call a quit (well, for a responsible parent of course), so once you persist it for like 10 or 20 years, looking back, you can't help feeling proud of yourself, feeling that is an accomplishment ← indeed it is!

    This makes me wonder, and probably it is true since there are many talks about it that being persistent is the hardest, and the only way to achieve something extraordinary (well, hardly we will say all kids are extraordinary. But in reality, raising them to adulthood itself is extraordinary, when was the last time you did anything for 20 years without budging, without quiting, and still doing it!?). So, I guess if we can take anything and keep doing it for 20 years, we can call it an achievement!

    But then, sadly, after 25 years since college, I experienced much, traveled, hopped jobs, dated, married, divorced, cried, laughed, switched hobbies, suffered some, achieve some, gave up some, held on some, kept some, lost some, remember some, forgot.. maybe some, too, and, the only thing I could feel as an achievement, remotely, is that Noah is 11 years old, not that I never thought about quiting (and I'm about to walk away by giving myself the excuse of doing volunteer works, somewhere, just not here), but I hadn't had the gut, nor the determination, to leave. So I sticked around, and being his dad for 11 years, and counting still.

    So that's how life awards a person ← by making it hard, and hard to quit, it gives you something, likely the only thing, you will find worth feeling proud of at the end of life. But if you go by your own will, you feel happy from moment to moment, but like a happy banquet, it felt great at the time, then, it left you with little impression, no scar, no hurt feeling, but its satisfaction lasts for, 4 hours? then, you feel hungry again, need food again, and sadly, no banquet, no food, of any kind, will taste good if you eat it ever time you feel so.

    But pain, agony, regret, lost love, feeling of missing someone, the distant memory of walking in the rain, of picking up at airport, of the moment I saw you flashing by to pick up your luggage, of putting scarf around you before walking out to a chilly Shanghai winter day, of following you hovering on your segaway, of seeing the surprise on your face when you came home and discovered the wonderful smell was coming from our kitchen.. they linger, they persist, they probably will fade, or will be gone entirely when I'm like Dad losing all my sense and memory. How sad.

    But even so, they will be the last to go. So I hope, so I wish, so I pray, the image of you, be the last thing leaving my mind. Then, it will all be empty, blank, and that should be the end of my existence, as me. The body may continue to drag on. But without the thought of you when I ever walked in a rain, in a misty early Spring day, there is no soul, and I would feel nothing anymore.

    Every drop of rain in the air, every mist floating around, every flower come and go, every season, every cloud, every day, is only a transformation, of you, so I wish it to be.

    — by Feng Xia


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