How many times in the throbbing moment, I hurt the weakest link in my heart. The wind of memory blows emotional cracks, and we are flying leaves, falling alone with each other. We are looking for, looking for the stopped branches, looking for the source of warmth. 15 years of reunion, let us understand that all warmth is the deep yearning of leaves for roots.
Fifteen years, fifteen years, let's repeat a childhood dream every day. Distant thoughts have melted into a warm current at the moment of meeting, and the embarrassment of passing by is fleeting in a song we love. When we grow up, we rush about in the years, and our once blurred faces have long been dyed into rosy clouds hanging on the horizon by the morning sun, and we can no longer find you and me. We have all changed, and the express train of years can no longer support our young bodies.
Many past events have been blurred, and only when they are moved can they be clear. The teacher has not changed, her charm has not changed, and she will keep a vigilant posture for many years. She is more like our parents standing in the distance. She hasn't changed, but she has some happy wrinkles There are stories of our growth in the wrinkles, as well as her hard work.
She still calls us children, and this intimate nickname is getting farther and farther away from us. In the warm waves, we became children again. Although we have become the parents of our children, no one wants to grow up at that warm moment. No one has ever realized his childhood wish, but at this time, our common dream is to be her child again.
The past is like yesterday, like a silent movie, and the vague plot in the dream becomes transparent and clear at this moment. Pick up the glass and look for the original innocence in the crisscross. Think of Jiang Yuheng's "Looking Back", as the lyrics say, suddenly like a dream. It's just that this dream seems to come a little late. In the waiting years, we are like lost children, sadly counting the distant stars in the dark blue sky. But at this moment, all the children have found a home. What is home? Home is a reminder from afar, a tear when we meet, and a nest where someone will always light a lamp for you. The teacher is an elegant nest keeper, and she has lit a heart lamp for each of us. Perhaps, she already knew that no matter how high and far we flew, we couldn't fly out of her sight. Warm eyes, brighter than lights, navigate for us again and again in countless lost nights.
On the wine table, we told our own stories. Chatting unconsciously pulls the story back to the distant past, and then smiles at each other. At that moment, we became children again. There are people who haven't had time to attend the party. Their complaints and demands on the phone made their hearts in anxious to return suffer. At that moment, we heard their dark tears, and our hearts were warm with pain. Someone was drunk, shaking his body and dancing alone for many years. No one laughed at him. For many years, aren't we in this chaotic world, drunk and dancing alone?
We hurried over to help him. At that moment, we were classmates, friends and brothers. Finally, we were all drunk, a group of people were drunk, warm and drunk, maybe we were drunk before drinking. Drunk, our words are stronger, and the huge restaurant seems to have become a classroom for us to play.
At that moment, time seemed still, and no one felt the drift of time. Perhaps the creator began to move, deliberately freezing that moment, just to give a group of lonely children long-lost joy. We are happy to forget ourselves. There is only one person with tears in his eyes, and the wrinkles of happiness are full of warmth. That man is our unforgettable teacher.
When a party begins to break up, what is written on everyone's face is disappointment, handshake, goodbye, hug, tears and smile, and each other's hearts are warm and painful. I watched the teacher's leaving figure, thin figure, disappearing little by little in the spring night under the sight of street lamps. It is such a thin figure that tirelessly sends away a group of naughty children, and she always smiles indifferently.
I suddenly had an epiphany about Zhuangzi's inaction. She feels that she has done nothing, but she has done more than anyone else. She really achieved "doing nothing, doing everything", just like a ballad says "being famous without seeking fame". Years later, perhaps more of us are struggling alone, but she is happy because she wants nothing more.
At this time, my eyes began to blur again, blurred in the top view of the street lamp. Through the street lamp, I seemed to see the teacher correcting our homework in the warm candlelight. Through the street lamp, I remembered my favorite teenagers' ballad: in the quiet night, the stars shine, the teacher's window is bright all night, and whenever I pass by your window, the bright lights shine on my heart. ...