Let's be friends forever

      以前总想着一定要来纽约过新年，在时代广场陌生的人群中和自己喜欢的人手牵着手，手心的温度让我忘却几个小时在寒风中的等待；等待着最后一刻的过去，疯狂的十秒倒数；在大苹果落下的一秒，热情而温柔的一吻。好像时间定格在这甜美的一刻，让全世界都一起见证这一年走过的艰辛和快乐。

所以，在2008年的第一刻，我来到了纽约市中心，所有的想象都将变成了现实。

      那是不可能的。哈哈！！

      但是，能跟一帮朋友在帝国大厦旁暖和的活动室里一起倒数，讨论着自己未来一年的梦想与打算，还是一次难忘的经历。想想人生唯一的一个2008新年，唯一的一个20岁，唯一一次和同样的一帮萍水相逢的纽约大学学长们在帝国大厦旁过新年，还真是难得啊！所以之后在回皇后区地铁路上，又冷又困的两个小时也算是人生不同的体验吧。

说回之前这个小小的NY dream吧，也不知道是何时想的，嘻嘻。现实和梦想看来还是有差距啊，即使有了男朋友也一样。说回现实，我来到时代广场还是像小朋友一样激动得只顾照相，虽然梦想没实现，去还是忍不住在视察环境后，想象将来男朋友在时代广场所有的广告牌上打上“我爱你”这类的话。哈哈！

     所以，在新的一年里，我希望大家的梦想都可以实现，即使一时没有，还是要保持一颗乐观快乐的童心。哈哈。

     希望没人看完想扁我。新年快乐！！

 

 

 "Is it that my hear beat too loud

  Is it I did not bid it come down

  Your round about etiquette

  Hold the door but you won't let me in"

 

"I am tired

 I am through

 When I love I will love so hard

 Harder than I could love with you"

 

"I won't make you flex emotion

 I won't make you come a little closer

 Do what you wan

 Don't do it for me

 What's the use in chivalry"

 

 

You think the world is ending

 

"Well maybe you shoild just drink a lof less coffe,

And never ever watch the ten o'clock news,

Maybe you should kiss someone nice,

Or lick a rock Or both."

 

"Maybe you should cut your own hair

Cause that can be so funny

It doesn's cost any money

And it always grows back

Hair grows even ager you're dead"

 

"And people are just people,

They shouldn't make you nervous.

The world is everlasting,

It's coming and it's going.

If you don't toss your plastic,

The streets won't be so plastic.

And if you kiss somebody,

Then both of you'll get practice."

 

 

      It’s snowing. I’m lying on the ground, feeling the snow melt under my body. The sky is silently white; the snow has absorbed all the filth from the world. The snow is flying from the unreachable sky and landing on my face. The last time I was lying on the snow was twelve years ago with the person I loved the most. He told me that snow flake is a message of love from people in heaven to those who they love, so nobody will feel lonely when they are walking on a cold street alone.

      Last snowy winter, Granddaddy and I tasted our first bite of snow. The slightly sweet taste went down my throat slowly, and the cold snow turned into water and warmed me up from the inside. In a little piece of black card, he collected the most beautiful object in the world for me – the message from heaven. Every single snow flake is a unique beauty with a detailed and complex structure holding the love message and story. He and I used those secret messages to make a snowman. Every time my little hands and his big hands patted the snowmen, he would turn slightly invisible from the heat of our hands. We would settle it in the top of the refrigerator with ice-cream, so he would see the first bloom of the morning glory and evaporate back to heaven by the first sunshine in the spring.

       During the spring, I woke up every morning with the sweet and fresh smell of morning glories. The mixture of purple and blue misted in the shining dew. Granddaddy picked those flowers like a father touching a newborn baby. I could see my smiling face in his kindly eyes. I would touch his face and ask: “why do you have so many wrinkles?” he would say: “I always smile when I am with you, so my wrinkles will be in the right place.” So I would tell myself to stop smiling, but I guess the reaction of smiling is a smile in return.

       During every summer afternoon, we would sit in the middle of the balcony. Sunshine made a lighted square for him on his stool and me on my little white chair that he made for me. He would always pick out the seeds from the watermelon, and I would wait for the juice while listening to the squeaks from my chair. I enjoyed puzzling the seeds into different shapes on the concrete floor, and he enjoyed sweeping them which began a dance for all the dust particles in the sunshine. I would still see the broken trace of the seeds smiling on the floor. Sometimes I eavesdropped on some cicada’s conversation; they were always arguing about who should get a piece of watermelon.

       During every autumn evening, Granddaddy and Nana would get in a fight over who would get to control the twenty inch black and white television. Nana never lost, and she would begin to snore right after she got the remote. I would glide to the TV to change the channel, and every time she would wake up at the exact moment I was about to push the button. I would sit on my Granddaddy’s leg and throw peanuts into Nana’s half open mouth, which was open because she always ate cucumber while she would watch TV. He snoring was like the bass in Jazz, which changed frequency and volume with the amount of peanuts I threw in, until she woke because I tried to touch the TV or we would laugh too loud. We would always try to laugh silently, but I laughed so hard that my stomach would hurt. I would fall asleep on his legs with my sore stomach, and when I would wake up again, I would be cuddled up in his arms in our single size bed listening to Nana’s jazz.

       After that last snowy winter, I moved to the city with my parents far away from my childhood memories. Everyday, I would wake up with my brand new toys; I would play with my same age friends from school; I would control the TV and watch my favorite cartoon; I would fall asleep with my dog in my single size bed. I didn’t remember if cicadas were still making noise during the summer. I didn’t like going to school on my bike alone in the rain during the winter, because after my class all my clothes would dry except a small place on my behind. I was scared by my parents fighting, because unlike my grandparents it was not the kind of arguing I could laugh at. I remembered I had so many things needed to be remembering during my school year, but I couldn’t think of what they were.

       Granddaddy was ill after I left. I went back to see him during my third grade summer break. It was a sunny day; the garden of his community had just gotten a fountain with a fake river around it. However, the fountain and river were dried. Surprised, I realized the cicadas were all silent. All the leaves had climbed up to the balcony and windows; I would barely see his house from the bland new garden. I went up the stairway step by step; they seemed to have shrunk but multiplied since the last time I left. The house was strange for me; it was dim and silent, even the smell was like mold. Granddaddy was lying in our hard wooden single bed; beside it the basins and potty seat were sitting in his étagère. He heard me walk in and opened his eyes slowly, trying to raise his arms and give me a hug, but my legs were dead, my hands were shaking. His boney arms, wrinkly face, and hoarse voice were all strange to me; and it all covered the kindness of his eyes and the sweetness of his heart. I ran to the balcony, to hide in the bright square, so I could feel the sun hitting my body telling me that I was not alone. Tears fell in the place the seeds’ smile used to be.

       I’m lying here in the snow, raising my hand to reach the sky, feeling the snow touching my face, melting and evaporating in the air. I don’s know when and where it landed or disappeared, but I feel it. I remember the morning glories slowly became partially curled in my dark hair; the cicadas got angry with each other and didn’t talk anymore; the jazz stopped playing because everyone’s complaining. However, after the snow melts, it’s always the spring; morning glories will always have new flowers bloom each day; cicadas like children can never keep their mouths shut; and music will never stop even if some people don’t like it. Granddaddy sends me the message to cleanse the filth from my life, so I will always know how to enjoy the taste of snow, the smell of sunshine, the sounds of dancing, the color of the heat, and the touch of smile; how to put wrinkles in the right places and put people in your hug while you still can.