I was finally home at the end of the year when all the trees were stripped of their leaves and stood shivering in the winter cold. You stopped by, and we sat silently beside the burning coal stove trying to keep warm. 

I took out my note books which contained reflections on my wandering years. Maybe it was a bit gloomy, but I was sure that here and there would be something to make one's heart leap as well. I remembered that tiny piece of red cloud floating towards me that drizzling morning. It turned out to be an old lady holding a red umbrella, coming from the other end of the path. Wearing a warm smile, she lifted her umbrella over my head and waited for me to get into my car. It was as though the sun had suddenly broken through the clouds on my lonesome journey that dreary morning. 

Yes, it is true. Whenever I am willing to say gently to my heart, "Let's appreciate today!", invariably the day would brighten up. Lively days one after another will come as long as my heart is willing to accept them each as a new beginning. 

You closed up my note books, lifted your head, and said, "You still have dreams. Right?" But then, with your head hanging down, after a long pause you added, "This is a land with no dreams. Too many upheavals have long shattered all dreams. The younger generation has lost their interest even before they begin to seek their dreams." "Where does one's heart go then?" "There is no place even to wander!" you said with a bitter smile.

 ******* 

I remember the story you wrote about the famine in the countryside. That year the famine was so severe that even grass was in short supply. During the new year holidays, every-body had gone home except you. You were lying in bed that rainy evening listening to the rain drops. I do not know what else you could have done beside listening to the rain drops! Should you be listening to the hungry dogs wailing outside? Or the desperate mice gnashing their teeth in the corner of the house? On that desolate winter evening, I guess it was best for you to listen to the rain drops.

"At that time, did you have dreams?" You did not answer. Inhaling deeply on your cigarette, then blowing it out gradually, you gave an answer in silence.

I sighed. Serving you more hot tea, I fanned up the fire. Gazing at the dancing fire, it was as if I could see you sitting silently amidst the streaming years, covered by a wet and heavy coir raincoat, but hanging your gray head low. No bitterness, no regret, but no dreams either...

Are you going to erect a monument to mourn the consumed youthful years? Or are you sacrificing the dreams of today and tomorrow for the illusiveness of yesterday? 

You kept quiet. The sun had long since risen and the grass reappeared on the hill. The sound of the shepherd boys playing their recorders floated through the air. Even on the side of a deserted grave, a white lily was blooming beautifully. It was time to hang the heavy and wet coir raincoat outside to dry. 

For sure, there will be rainy days again. But so what? Maybe we will see another umbrella coming our way in the rain. Or may be we will be able to open our umbrellas to shelter a passerby. Maybe it is God's grace that we have opportunity to quiet down from our anxiety and zeal, and then once again enjoy the sunny days that he has prepared for us.

Maybe it is time to tell our hearts, "Let's hang the heavy coir raincoat outside to dry." Then we can walk briskly into the sunshine to appreciate the beautiful lily, or maybe just to lift up our face and give the sun a smile .

*****

Abridged from Pg. 2, June 1995 issue of the Overseas Campus Magazine  

Ms. Ning Zi came from Nanjing. A former editor and reporter in China, she is now a professional writer.