2026-02-12

纸片飞舞 Paper Flying

很小的时候，我们去外婆家帮忙插秧。晚上，月亮大的像脸盆，妈妈带我们从田间小路走回家，一路虫鸣，微风拂面。看到田里面整齐的秧苗，就会期待金黄的季节。那年月朗风微凉！ 长大后，离开家乡，就像被台风吹起的纸片，看似无拘无束，实则身不由己。但台风终究会过去，挣扎过，不甘过，然后释然。人越走越远。但心里总有一扇门，推开是家乡。 不是每个人都能回到村庄，但每个人，都曾在某个时刻，路过自己的村庄！ When I was very young, we went to my grandma's to help plant rice seedlings. At night, the moon hung as big as a washbasin. Mom led us home along the narrow path between the fields, crickets chirping all around, a gentle breeze on our faces. Seeing the neat rows of seedlings in the paddy, we would look forward to the golden harvest season. That year, the moon was bright and the breeze was cool! When I grew up, I left my hometown, like a scrap of paper swept up by a typhoon—seemingly free and unbound, yet in truth, never in control of my own fate. But the typhoon will pass. I struggled, I resisted, and then I let go. I walk further and further away. Yet there is always a door in my heart; push it open, and there is home. Not everyone can return to their village, but everyone, at some point in their life, has passed by their own village. 点击下面链接收听 Click the links to listen: