Love Does not Avoid Tragedy

An angry wind swept the winter fields. the snow that fell yesterday turned into ice sheets and glistened in the morning sun. we --me and my wife, two children, an neighborhood elder, and boys and girls-- got off 41 bus and crossed the street. and two Elementary students called "Hi, Daddy!" while running. with the blink of an eye, door closed and car fled. we waved and followed a certain van, but we couldn't help but sigh. for a while, we shrugged our shoulders and held both hands tightly our hands as we walked. after a while, another empty car came out and fled to village the same. i thought of childhood when i walked along the rice fields. bloomed and willow branches were drooping, forsythia and in the summer, after catching carp and catfish and playing in the waver, chimney smoke rises...but now, there are no children and no new fish, and only dirty filth is overflowing in the riverbank where the plastic pieces of pesticide bottles have collapsed. moreover, uncle Tom, who was reputed to be good, became a drunkard with rotting legs, which he couldn't live without drinking for a day. i was immersed in these thoughts, Richard, who we went to school with, and i carried his backpack every day. he motioned for us to get on. by the way i could see the Mary's grandmother standing alone at the entrance of the village. we passed by and greeted her with wet eyes. grandmother's third granddaughter went up to New York to earn money many years ago and wandered around big factories. nowadays, going to a bar or coffee shop for few years. since then, even on holidays she has not been able to return to her hometown here. a love of a grandma waiting for her pretty granddaughter to cross the mountain road.