See the sea again

See the sea again

I always wanted to write something for the Sea, which was to miss the past, to light up the memories and let its fragrance fill my life again. Maybe it is a kind of complex. The complex of the sea can find the interpretation of life for a long time in its depth and clarity. It may be just that I just want to write, and use words to record a period of time, a piece of scenery, which is as simple as that. Inscription When I came to the sea again, it had been more than ten years since I saw it last time. I opened my arms and stood on the bank, in front of which was the sea area I had been longing. The slight sea breeze blew my hair tip, like mother’s hand, gently touching my cheek. It seemed that I came from the poetry of Tang style and Song Dynasty, with my clothes fluttering, walking close to the sea, into the scenes of the past, into its deep mind. Growing up by the sea, I can see the sea every day and the spectacular red sun sprays out from the sea level; Seeing the bloody Sun decorate the dusk so beautiful; Seeing the noisy summer night, the bright moonlight scattered the bright silver light on the sea surface, sparkling and dazzling; I also saw the wind surge, the waves set up, the waves several meters high, like a lion with angry hair, it hit the bank fiercely, which was frightening but full of excitement. However, only the sea lingered me. Only it has entered my dream and my missing many times. It is like the wind chimes which are disturbed by the spring breeze, giving out the lingering sound after a slight collision. It is not very beautiful. It is not as vast as the Pacific Ocean, and its color is often yellowish, which is far from the clear and blue sea in people’s imagination. When I was young, I had been thinking about why it was so clear and turbid for so long? The Sea and the Bay are in the embrace of the mountain, like a spoiled baby, nestling in the mother’s heart. I don’t know whether the mountain is attached to the sea or the sea is leaning against the Green Mountain. When I just learned to watch the world with my eyes, they have snuggled up to each other for decades or hundreds of years? I cannot tell. All I know is that I opened my eyes deep in my heart, and they are already inseparable. Outside the bay, a whole sea is connected. Where does it come from and where does it go? I can’t trace its source, nor know its end. The sea should also come from far away, right? It was just tired. Seeing the embrace of the mountain, he came in to have a rest. Unexpectedly, the rest lasted for hundreds of years, perhaps longer. I can hear its story from the old memories of the Elders, a sea and the stories of several generations. The sea is right in front of our village. When I opened the door in the morning, the first thing I saw was it. When I was young, I used to lie on the balcony, looking at the sea crazily, watching its ups and downs. I wanted to see through its depth and understand it, just like reading my beloved fairy tale, let all its plots show in my mind at a glance. I expect that one day it will suddenly speak and tell me what it has seen and experienced for hundreds of years? Tell me, its sadness, its happiness, does it miss the place it left? Is it because of helplessness to stay here? Still misses? I often fantasize like this. At night, I was awakened by its rustling whispers many times. Who was it whispering? So gentle, so affectionate? Usually, I just get up, open the door, lie on the Sunshine and stare at the sea. Especially on summer nights, when there is Moonlight, how beautiful the scenery is. The sea in the night faded from its yellowish color and became as dignified and deep as the night. The Moonlight carefully set glittering silver diamonds on it, dressing it up meticulously, as if going to a grand banquet. The beautiful and hazy scenery like fairy tales, I even recalled that those lovely people in fairy tales would also come here and start a happy party. In this way, watching, intoxicated, imagining, unconsciously, the passage of time. On rainy days, continuous rain silk floated on the sea, between heaven and earth, like hanging a fine cloth curtain. The hazy mountains and the hazy sea are integrated into the picturesque picture. In the stormy weather, the roaring wind swept over the sea, adding fuel to the fire. The enraged sea surged layers of waves, making low roars. The turbid seawater kept rushing against the bank, causing the spray to splash. Is it angry? I hid in the room, looked through the glass window, and thought timidly. Should it bury too many hot emotions in its heart, or endure too many silent grievances? So, at this moment, it broke out. With the continuous upgrading of the wind force, the sea crashed into the reef, the bank and even the Bank crazily and fiercely. One year, typhoon season. The strong wind above level 12 and the sea with huge waves appeared in front of me in a strange way. The layers of huge waves from far to near, swept through rapidly, relentlessly involved everything on the beach. After the typhoon, we were surprised to find that there was a boat directly sent to the yard of a family by the waves. After the waves receded, it was placed there awkwardly, accepting the review of our curious eyes. If the endurance reaches the limit, hysteria will break out. The Sea, is it the same? Deep in it, there must be sadness that I can’t understand, and the typhoon season every year is the time for it to vent to its fullest. Thinking like this, I can understand it and no longer be afraid of getting close to it. Most of the time, it is a gentle gentleman. I remembered that I squatted in the rocks and spread my hands out. The tide came and went over my hands gently and retreated shyly. Between my fingers, Palm, seawater, dripping glittering and translucent. Holding it, laughing happily in the sun. Because I feel that I have held happiness, friendship, friendship between me and the sea. At that moment, it seemed that I could understand it. It doesn’t resist my approach. Maybe, I also like to get along with others like this. There are not many times like this. I am not a girl who plays crazily everywhere like a little monkey. Most of the time, I would rather stare at it in the sunshine on the second floor of my house and ponder. The elder brother next door, with his dark skin exposed by The Sun, jumped like a happy squirrel on the coast. Whenever the tide ebbs down, this sea area is a paradise for children. The sea looked at us affectionately in the far place, where once ups and downs exposed a large area of tidal flat. The children stepped on the loose and soft beach with deep and shallow feet, and the little crabs who had no time to escape crawled on the mud in panic. Children who became clay figurines fought with each other and laughed at each other’s funny look. I usually stand on the path above and watch the noisy world quietly. The only experience in memory also ended in thrilling. I stepped on the mud cautiously that day, and suddenly my body sank and my feet sank deeply into the beach. The more I struggled, the more I sank. Finally, scared too much to move. The fellows came one after another, laughing while comforting me and telling me not to move. In fact, it was not deep either, because I had never been to the beach, and when I met this situation, I was frightened. When my fellows helped me ashore, I was shocked to carry two white sneakers that turned black, saying nothing but going down. At the edge of this sea area, I live and grow up. Time takes away childhood and pure happiness like flowing water. What can’t be taken away is about its memory. On the reef by the sea, I once picked up conch one by one; When I was in a bad mood, I sat by the sea with a book and watched the tide singing happily beside me. Unconsciously, I am in a good mood. At the seaside, my favorite thing to do is to pick up shells and pebbles. The texture of different shades is combined into a unique pattern. Each one is unique. Someone once said that when you pick up the shell and put it in your ear, you can hear the song of the sea, either melancholy or cheerful. But I prefer to look at its pattern and read it, just like reading a novel, reading the loneliness of the sea, its sadness, its helplessness and happiness. That texture is a period of time, a story, about the sea and shells, about the sea and the blue sky, about the sea and US, the story is with some excitement, strolling on the long bank, ten years later, I came back again, and some scenes were no longer there. When my sight touched that sea, all my memories about it emerged so clearly. There is a sea in everyone’s heart, sunny days, cloudy clouds, and seagulls flying! Like (prose editor: Ke Er) change the way to continue to stay with this city I went out at 6 o’clock in the morning and came back at almost 8 o’clock in the evening. From beginning to end, I only welcomed myself with silence; Since I went to college, on weekends… [Original essay] string words Since winter, the sky is dry and the snow is misty. The whole earth is desolate and empty. 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