The Rainy Day
Jian Wen Li
“Tick and Tick,” this rhythm is like a wonderful melody to wake me from my dream. I rub my eyes and focus on listening.
Wow, this is rain, this is my favorite, a rainy day. I jump out of bed, run to the window and look out.
The leaves are scrubbed with bright green color, the rain drips little by little from the tips of the leaves, like a beaded curtain. The flowers open their arms and embrace the rain, satisfied sucking.
The house and the street are washed by the rain, so clean. The rain is dripping on the road, splashing down like beautiful blossoms. The cars drive so fast and spatter a white wave. People on the street are holding colorful umbrellas, like beautiful blooming flowers.
A breeze blows, I breathe greedily. The air is so fresh, accompanied by the smell of grass, which is the taste of spring.
I change my clothes and rush out the door. I like to be in the rain and let the rain fall on my face, the rain gently touch me.
You will never understand a Pluvophile*, how to love the rain.
*Pluvophile : a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days.
Happy Things In My Childhood
I love my hometown and my childhood. My hometown is a small and beautiful place. The name is Chang Le. It was a city, now it is a zone. There are so many mountains and rivers, and also a lot of seafood. The weather is very good, it never snows in winter. In the morning, occasionally we saw a couple of icicles on the eaves of the roof, and the children all felt excited.
I miss my childhood very much. It was not as advanced as it is today, but everyday I feel and think we enjoyed a colorful life. There were no computers or mobile phones. If in the whole village one family had a TV, we thought they were rich. I remember when I was little, sometimes in the village there would be movies and we watched ancient singing dramas. I sat down on my father’s lap and fell asleep, then my father carried me home.
My father was a migrant worker. When he went to the farm, I would help bring rice and a snack to give my father to eat. My father was a hard worker. He had watermelon, sugarcane, and sweet potato. Also, he planted different kinds of vegetables and had a fish farm. Although we were not rich, we were never hungry with starving tummies.
I still remember one thing. When I was seven years old, my parents just sent me to kindergarten, but the teacher said I was too late and too old. I couldn’t study in kindergarten, I needed to study in first grade. I thought she didn’t like me. I cried.
There are still a lot of happy memories. I remember them all. I’ll leave it there for now.