The Trip Back Home
It was the first time this year that I travelled back home for a visit. The decision was made offhand and hesitantly. It was because of my passport. Because I was not born in Shanghai, the related institution would not allow me to apply for
it here. But passport application had to be done in time. So one scotching afternoon, I got on the coach head home for the seven-hour-long journey.
It turned out not as bad as I thought. From the sift-like curtain inside the coach, I looked outside, upward, and afar: Far in the distance, nigh to the horizon
, boundless greens spread, like a huge carpet, as far and wide as your eyes can
see; Then rivers with summer water plants swiftly caught your sight; wisps of wind breezed away in the air, among tree branches, and upon the surface of the rivers; and lots of innocent children scampered around the shadows in the fields. This time of the year it was their off-school days.
I was thinking if I had made a rash judgement, when I told my friend the blandness of countryside views in China in contrast to those in England. I remembered when I said that, he was showing me River Cottage TV series. The vast holding and
its stunning surroundings in those episodes were absolutely extraordinary, let
alone Hugh himself kept growing and harvesting diverse veggies. My mouth was invariably watering.
I thought, based on my memory of the past, there was no place that I knew holding such lovely scenery and life. But maybe I was wrong. Peeping through the coach
window, I found that places I knew or passed by had changed a good deal by time
. People, no matter what intention they had in their mind, started to grow more
trees, plants, flowers and let nature spread freely. If you don’t believe it, just come and have a look at those random, earthly countryside spots I was by. Every place was thronged with greens in the season of the year. Every place appeared in a similar but comely way.
It was later at the night that I finally arrived home. My father hadn’t gone to
bed yet. He had sat outside the building, with a fan at hand, waiting for me ages. I think I can never stop him from doing that. The feeling of home crept up
slowly into my heart when I saw and talked to him in the hue of light. It was the quieted time of a day. Outside the sky was pale, and starry. Together with my
brother, who went to pick me up at the station on his motorcycle, we three walked into the house.
It was not unpleasant to sleep home, while listening to wisps of wind sounds outside the window. Rows of trees in front of the courtyard made jovial noise in the wind, and so did the palm tree in the courtyard, some branches of it right spread up to my window on the second floor. The noise I heard was their joyful singing at night. Right there and then, I wish I was, too, a tree dancing and singing in the summer night.
I woke up early the next morning. Though travel fatigue still hadn’t worn off fully, I couldn’t wait to get up and have a look around my home. Summer was always its most vigorous season. Lots of unknown glass came to reside in the soil of
our garden. The palm tree was full of small green palms. My mother said soon they would be ready to savour and harvest, sooner then you could imagine, as the juicy season couldn’t wait.
It was a shame that I spent most of the rest day hustling to and fro in the county. Passport application was more troublesome than I expected. But it was done fine eventually. And probably because I pressed myself again time too much, I got
a fever soon I got home. Resting on the cold bamboo mat under the fan, I felt my head was cracking. Luckily, later the bath in the cool summer light alleviated
my headache. Night was the most beautiful time of a day. Sitting in the lukewarm water and listening to the humming songs by night, peace once again crept up into my heart. Then I knew, albeit my fever and the scotching weather, it was a worthwhile trip after all.
