At night, when I lay in bed, the cherry trees rustled and sometimes owls chirped.
When I was a child, I often fell asleep in such a sound.
Many times I dreamed that I was riding on an owl the size of a chinchilla. It took off from the roof, and then flew down the terraced fields, flew to the river, and rose on the sparkling river. Flying down.
From Datian River to Erdaowan, to Dongzi River, to Zhong Wharf. On both sides of the river are rows of hemp willow trees, and a little higher are green gang trees. There are also round acorns on the green hill tree. Peel off a layer of shell, insert a bamboo stick, and you can make a spinning top.
Tonight, my daughter and I watched Hayao Miyazaki's Totoro. All of a sudden, my childhood memory was activated. There is warm love and warmth flowing in the film, every person, every animal, every scenery, every small plot can bring me warm moving.
I like such kind parents. I like children like this. I like that shy little boy, and I have a crush on Xiaoyue but pretend to be hideous, as if I saw his childhood.
And Satsuki and my daughter are so similar. Sensible, lively, running around the house, shouting loudly. He also brought a little cousin who is like a fart.
Although I have gradually reached middle age, my life is flashy, and I have tasted all the joys and sorrows. But when I woke up on a quiet summer night, I often looked out the window, and I still imagined the "Chinchilla" standing on the big tree, whining and playing bagpipes there.
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