April Rain Prose

April Rain Prose 2000-word raindrops hit the window lattice, shattered the dream of window grilles, missed the seasons, fluttered petals, moistened the loess in front of my father's grave, and the soul wandering in the cold rain in April at midnight, either as thin as silk or as big as a round bead, fell into the desolation of my heart. In last night's dream, I still kept my father's kind smile and tried to enjoy my knees. However, the white vest on my father's body is old, and the blue cloth coat is getting thinner and thinner in the cold rain. I said, I will buy you a favorite Tang suit tomorrow, and I will wake up in tears.

When my father left, my thoughts were only pinned on this ethereal dream and the worship of distant loess. Maybe my father can't bear to see my thoughts every day, but he always comes to my dreams after I am heartbroken many times. Every time he comes and goes in a hurry, he doesn't have time to tell me what my daughter thinks and let me rest on my shoulder. Therefore, worship has become an important way for me to visit my father. I lit a column of incense and whispered to my father in my heart. The grass in front of the grave is like a father's love. At that moment, I believed that there was a soul in the world, because I really felt the breath of fatherly love and gave vent to my willfulness as a daughter. So every service has become a warm date, a soul exchange.

As soon as we entered April, the bright spring scenery suddenly disappeared a few days ago, and it rained repeatedly every day. "There are many rains during the Qingming period, and pedestrians on the road want to break their souls." How many heartbroken people have been killed by Du Mu's Tomb-Sweeping Day, and the number of pedestrians on the avenue and in the fields suddenly increased. The mountains are covered with colorful flags, and the cold rain is overwhelming, knocking down the blossoming silk flower, and the sadness between Yin and Yang is flying.

Thinking about my father's thinness, thinking about what style of Tang suit to buy, thinking about talking to my father in a thousand words, hastily planning the worship ceremony with my husband, including my father's favorite fruit snacks, tea and cigarettes, thinking that everything is comprehensive, my heart actually flashed a trace of pain and numbness.

Tomb-Sweeping Day's daughter can't worship her ancestors for fear of damaging her fortune. When I received this notice, I was sitting on the sofa with my husband, repeating the details of worshipping my father. Outside the window, it rained harder and harder, and the thin rain turned into a string of water columns and hit the cold wall. The impact of Tong Tong hit my heart and shattered my joy of being close to my father. My brain was at a loss, and time stood still at that moment. I didn't miss it, I didn't feel sad or happy, I didn't say a thousand words from my heart, and the spring rain was dense and slow.

Dating back to ancient times, the traditional Tomb-Sweeping Day in China began about 2,500 years ago. At the beginning of the Zhou Dynasty, Tomb-Sweeping Day was a very important solar term. As soon as Tomb-Sweeping Day arrives, the temperature rises, which is a good time for spring ploughing and planting. That's why there are agricultural proverbs like "Before and after Qingming Festival, plant melons and beans" and "Planting trees is not as good as Tomb-Sweeping Day". If so, Qingming only reminds people to sow in spring, and later it became the national grave-sweeping day, that's all. After many investigations, I can't find any scientific evidence that my daughter can't worship her ancestors, let alone. I don't want to touch anyone's property. I just want to see my father. Even if no one answers me, I will sit quietly in front of my father's grave and feel the long-lost warmth. Only here can I speak freely like a child, vent freely, be crazy and willful at will, abandon all the troubles in my life and get a moment of peace.

April rain, in this way, blocked my worship of my loved ones and closed my mood. For almost half a month, I stayed in my own world and commemorated my father in a unique way:

The weather is still not getting better. Walking in the April rain, I followed in my father's footsteps. The fields are covered with rain and fog, fresh and moist. Rape flowers in Huang Cancan have experienced the baptism of rain, which is particularly bright and beautiful. Pedestrians passed me by. I know that in the coming and going, my father is busy making a living; In the rainy sky, the voice of my father standing on the three-foot platform reading the text is full of emotion. Wandering in the rain, let the April rain wet my clothes and hair, infiltrate my soul, and feel the warmth of my father holding an umbrella for me.

At that moment, I suddenly realized that my father was always by my side, and I missed him deeply in every sunny or stormy morning, in the fresh air after the rain, in every gloomy or happy day of my life. So, looking at the hill from a distance, be my daughter's most pious worship, and let the endless rape flowers become the banner I worship; Spring thunder in April, fireworks and firecrackers worship for me; The drizzle is the candle of my thoughts. I knelt down and bowed three times. Petals fall with the wind, fall into the soil in April, and turn into my thoughts all over the sky. From then on, my worship is not just a flag, not just a pile of loess, but every day of my life and every corner of my life journey.