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A simple and moving love story.
A melodious song of the countryside and family.
Chapter 1
Part 1
As I neared San He Tun, my heart tightened in anticipation. Without one
word, the driver cautiously navigated the car around the twisting mountain
road. It was not a comfortable drive, and the rocky ground caused the car to
jump -- making my heart skip a beat, while giving a sensation of
weightlessness.
This morning at 6 'o clock, the village head, Da Ye, called me at the
dormitory. For a short period of time, I didn't even recognize who he was.
Once I realized it was him, I knew immediately that my father had passed
away. Mr. Luo had died. Heart disease. And that was it. In a rough voice, Da
Ye told me that I should return home.
I heard Da Ye's words, and felt suddenly disheveled. When I saw my father at
this year's Spring Festival, he was still... still in good health. So, how
could of this come to pass? Actually, I can't believe that I'm saying this.
This wasn't true at all.
I lost no time in giving my friend a phone call. In due time, I borrowed his
car and went off to to go to San He Tun that very morning.
As we came in front of San He Tun, I could see the simple rural homes of the
village approach through the windshield. We were quickly drawing close, so I
told the driver to stop.
"We're here." I told the driver.
"I'll take you to the gate." he replied.
"No need." I said. "This far is enough."
"Alright, then take care."
I opened the car door and stepped out. The driver added: "Tell your village
chief that when I come back, I'll have to thank him again."
And then the car drove off. With long strides, I entered the village and
walked towards my home.
I approached the entrance of the courtyard. My heart pounded heavily, and it
felt as if I had been shot in the chest. I then thought about my mother. How
was she? How would she get through all of this? I paused slightly before I
walked through the trees of the small courtyard.
Part 2
As I entered, I saw the village head was already here. Also inside my home,
there were many other older members of the community. They sat quietly by
the kang, none of them saying a single word -- simply smoking in silence.
Then, I saw my mother. Mother was seated on a long bench, rolling
cigarettes. By her side, there was a shallow basket, containing several
dozen already-made joints.
I startled them. They all looked to my direction. Mother also faced me, her
eyes lighting up slightly. She then called me over: "Son."
Mother remained motionless, only moving to pick up the small basket by her
side. I came over and took a seat on the bench, previously where the tobacco
basket was located.
The room was still.
Then the village chief spoke. Before speaking, Da Ye first discarded his
cigarette and gave everyone one look (so as to get their attention) -- he
then faced us once more and remarked: "We've been waiting for you almost all
day."
He then added "So... What happened was that Mr. Luo was out as usual, going
to raise funds to renovate the school. First, he left the village and went
downtown. Afterwards, he proceeded to the residential areas... Shouldn't at
least one of his students been there? Aiya... And to think, all of this was
just last Saturday."
As he spoke, my mother stopped rolling cigarettes. Both her hands grasped to
the tobacco paper, and she looked as if she didn't know what to do.
Da Ye finished speaking, and the room fell silent.
This time, someone else spoke: "How unfortunate it was for him to encounter
such big rain!!"
Another added: "When is it ever a good time to go out?"
"And who would have thought he had heart disease!" exclaimed someone in
front.
The village head coughed slightly. At once, this ended their train of
thought. It took just one cough to get everyone to cease talking.
Then he spoke once again: "So now... You have returned. Your father is still
at the downtown hospital, already dressed in burial clothes. Carpenter Xia
will make a coffin for him... And in two days, we will take him back home.
How does this sound to you"
As my father's son, I knew exactly why he was addressing me. I took one look
at my mother, and replied: "It will be as Da Ye says -- I don't have any
objection."
Da Ye looked straight at me, then to my mother, and eventually to everyone
else in the room. "If this is so, Zhao Di, we'll all go now."
Mother, after hearing this, pleaded: "Take a seat now -- have another
smoke."
But the village head was the first to stand up. "Don't sit." he said. "If we
have time, we shall come again."
The village chief and others headed towards the door. Only then did mother
put down the cigarettes, and went to escort them outside. I was also right
behind mother, going outside to the courtyard.
Part 3
Mother and I walked back inside, with her leading the way. She wore plain,
conventional blue clothes. This was actually the outfit that I bought for
her. As she wore this, it was apparent that they were much too big. However,
I also noticed that she has recently gotten much thinner.
From my impression, mother has always been a slight woman. But it was not
until now that I noticed that her face has darkened considerably, due to her
constant exposure to the elements each day. Every time I see the full,
overweight women of the city, I can't help but think of my mother as I
silently ache inside. Actually I know... I shouldn't make such comparisons.
But as her body has gotten more delicate, mother's spirit, however, remained
quite strong. The only time she appears inactive is when she's asleep. You
get the kind the feeling that she never feels a moment of fatigue. As she
washes the clothes, cooks the food, and feeds the livestock (pigs and
chickens) -- you notice that almost everything that happens under family
life, occurs by her hand. For all practical purposes, it is her that runs
the family.
This year, my mother is already quite old -- almost all of her hair has
since turned white. And now, father has so unexpectedly left us. For me, it
is unimaginable to consider what my mother has gone through the past few
days. It pains me even to give this matter just one thought.
Unable to take it anymore, I cried out to her: "Ma!"
As soon as she heard me, she stopped in mid-stride and looked back, giving
me a look of confoundment. She paused for just a moment, and I heard her
say: "Let's go back in."
So my mother and I went back inside. Mother didn't say anything more. She
exited the room, and came back in grasping a broom. Without one word, she
proceeded to sweep the room all over. She was a tidy person by nature --
this was something I've known since I was young. I watched her as she went
about the room, contemplating whether I should be the one with the broom in
hand, straightening up for her. But she never once offered the broom, and
instead commanded: "Go get the dustpan for Mama."
I went into the courtyard to get the dustpan and by the time I returned,
mother had finished sweeping. Just holding the broom upright, she glanced
over and remarked: "I don't know why I say this -- but it doesn't feel like
your Baba has died yet! ...."
After saying this, mother took the dustpan, bent over, and placed the trash
inside. She then carried this away, leaving the room.
I believed my mother's words. In this very moment, I also had the same
feeling, although I must admit -- this was the feeling that I got every time
I returned home -- sensing that father was just coming back from school. I
felt that if I waited only a moment longer, I'd see him return once again.
But this time, it was just me standing in this room. In my house, there were
three rooms: one kitchen and two bedrooms. The kitchen was in the middle,
linking the entrance of the house to the two bedrooms on the side. Country
folks regard the latter two as the "East" and "West" rooms. I was now in the
East room, where my parents used to reside together. On the kang, there lay
two boxes, and the wall was adorned with several New Year's pictures. Also
on the wall, there is a single wooden fixture, on which yellow canvas
book bag still hung. This was the bag that I carried in middle school, but
had since been used by my father.
In this moment, I heard my mother calling me from outside. So I then exited
the room.
Part 4
As I came into the courtyard, I saw my mother by the shed. It was here where
we stored the knickknacks and rubbish that we did not use over the years. The
door was already open, by my mother's own hand.
At my approach, mother stepped inside the storage area. I didn't have the
faintest clue what she was up to. After awaiting my entrance, she then said:
"Help Ma bring out the loom."
While she said this, she turned to the loom and pointed.
I took one look at the loom. It was leaning against the wall, with much of
its parts worn at the base. The weaves of the loom were also quite laden
with dust. It was apparent that it was quite an obsolete apparatus. In fact,
mother's loom was very much out of date when she originally received it.
Looking at it made me feel as if I was looking at an ancient mulberry tree.
"Ma, must you weave this thing?" I said.
"I must weave a cloth to drape over the coffin." she replied.
I was startled. I knew that people from the country had this belief: Upon
death, one must not see the light of the sky. Only once shielded by a cloth
can the deceased finally find peace.
As I realized this, I knew that I could have gone out to buy a suitable
cloth. In fact, I could even use one of our old cloths as a substitute.
There were also several people out there that could arrange this for us.
I told Ma: "Tomorrow I will go buy several feet of cloth. Don't trouble
yourself."
Mother didn't say anything. She just looked at me.
I repeated: "Ma, you only have two days. You'll never complete it."
Then my mother finally replied: "Move the loom out. I will finish."
"Didn't you heard what I said?" I pleaded with her.
"That's enough child! You move it now!"
I didn't dare say another word. I walked to the loom, and grasped it with
both my hands. I understood the state of mind that my mother was currently
in. In truth, this moved me inside as well. Even if the loom was too heavy,
I would find a way to move it. Mother then came over to help me, and we both
moved the loom into the courtyard.
The loom was such an ancient thing. I was worried whether it could still
even be used. But this didn't seem to matter to my mother. Once the loom was
put in place, she took out a brush and swept through the entire loom. The
sounds of sweeping filled the air.
Mother spoke: "Perhaps the spindles are loose. It just needs a couple of
wedges for fixing."
She then added: "In the shed, you'll find several tools. Go find the right
one, and Ma will go cook dinner."
Finally, mother glanced at me, and went back into the house.
I entered the shed again, and found the old axe. I then found a piece of
wood to cut and proceeded to repair the loom. I remembered the time when I
was little, and how the loom was sometimes broken. Usually my father tended
to the repairs, but occasionally we had to go get the carpenter when it got
seriously damaged.
Rhythmically, I pounded in the wedges. At one point, I saw my mother take a
trip to the vegetable garden. She saw me from afar, but didn't make any move
towards my direction. After some time elapsed, the spindles were finally
nice and tight.
I then sat down on a pile of rubbish, and faced the loom. My eyes focused on
it as I lit up a cigarette and sat there, smoking.
Part 5
Night came. The lights were turned on inside. My mother and I just finished
eating. We both took a seat, on top of the kang.
After sitting in silence, my mother got up. She then walked over to the
loom. As she approached, she remarked: "You have covered such a long road.
Now you can finally rest."
By the time she finished speaking, mother was already in front of the loom.
I was still ensconced on the kang, not moving a muscle.
She sat down in front of the loom, and spoke once more: "And here you are,
still sleeping in the West room."
After these words, mother did not need me anymore. Here and there, she
started fiddling with parts of the loom, making the initial preparations.
In just a moment, she was weaving again.
And from stillness, the room was suddenly full of the sounds of weaving.
"Ka-ka, ka-ka," clattered the loom. This sound was by no means loud, but cut
crisply through the air with a sense of poignancy. It was a certainly a
sound that stirred my heart.
I watched her as she weaved.
This time, her back was to me. I didn't notice how fragile she was until I
saw her back and shoulders move. Back, shoulders, and loom all moved
together in synchrony. With each motion, I could see her body heave in
response.
However, this time, her spirit was more resolved than ever before.
Still looking at her, I quietly stood up. I walked across the kitchen, and
went into the West room.
Index Chapter 2
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