INVITATION

October again! Autumn leaves swirling down, autumn rains pouring down, in the chilliness, salmons return to their homeland. Amazing, after years in the ocean, they remember their home. It is a joy to see them coming back, also a sorrow to see them go. The mystery of life. One year we drove all the way to Salmon Arm to see salmon return. When we got there the locals were perplexed that we should come all the way for nothing because the salmon would not return in two years time. We headed back to Vancouver, and had to spent the night mid way. We found a small lakeside village by the highway and decided to stay for the night. The motel was clean and quiet. Chase Lake was beautiful in the evening. On the way back it started to snow in the mountains. We eventually saw salmons at Weaver Creek, in pouring rain.

When I woke up in the morning light, I saw the snow capped mountains and pencil straight trees along the white banks of Alaska. Our ship rocked a little bit in the waves, our cabin like a cradle, I could sleep more. But, no, I wanted to catch the golden sunshine on shore, before the harbor city was burst with people. Salmons return to motherland. There is nothing more tragic than their struggle to keep the cycle of life. They swarmed at the entrance to the rivers, still a long long way from home. Whales came in the dusk of night, 5 of them, quickly merged into the darkness. Only one night I got a glimpse of them. Never again. But in my mind I would picture them swimming in the waters, not far away, and I would not feel lonely. At night, the waves are silver white against the dark blue. On foggy days, fog horns blew regularly, echoed by another ship hidden in the fog. The best time was to sit by the window, absorbing the serene beauty of Alaska. I never got to finish a book. My...

I pulled out my first silver hair yesterday. I found it when I was combing my hair, just a little sparkle of silver among the massive black, I caught it. I circled it around my finger, finding it half way silver from the root and half brown to the end. Alas, the inevitable age eventually catch on me. I am getting old. But what have I achieved in my life? I seem so little and unimportant, just a speckle of dust in the air. It takes every step to come to today. Every step counts.

April, the month, is gone. So much can happen in April. I had said April is the packing month, and May is the leaving month. But how can I, simply leave, all these, pretty and dear, behind. I turn cold on the thought of it. We are different people, our minds on different things in life. We are verses that don't rhythm. I always wonder what it is to keep us apart yet unsevered. There must be something, but is the thing strong enough to keep us there? I need to go back to the coma of sleep, to forget.

It comes, uninvited, takes away everything alive. I have tried, very hard, to win this battle, just by myself alone. What a waste, of life. Emails not replied, meals not cooked... I wish I could just let the world stop, for a while, for me to catch a breath. Yet, I have to put on this smiling mask and offer myself here and there, to endless, endless things. I resist its power, but the Dark Lord of Hollow comes back with even fiercer attacks, again and again, until darkness shrouds me. I close my eyes. I waive my sword. I can't see a thing. My head about to explode...

My thoughts sail away far into the vast invisible Where the seas are high and warm Pending of a storm

It was freezing cold out there, but the parade went on. Men in skirts, blew pipes and marched on. So cold, with rain and later snow, people tried to stay longer and watch. Thank you, they say, thank you for braving the cold weather and come to cheer us up. We applauded to every music and dance step. I like their costumes. I can never take enough pictures. I like the Celtic music too, which always brings me to the idyllic seas of the highland, and to the rustic people there. Last year, there was this young man, unbelievably handsome, in green with pipes stood beside me with a broad smile, was caught on the camera. He has an angel's face. Happy St. Patrick's Day! Happy Green Dreams!

春天来到了冰湖，覆盖湖面的浮冰开始融化，久违了的野鸭野鹅出来觅食，充分享受春日温暖的阳光。春风里还有丝丝寒意，天空万里无云，碧蓝碧蓝，偶尔，空中传来大雁的鸣叫。多么美丽的周日，多么静谧的早晨。如果不是贝贝打开了吵吵闹闹的动画片，我真愿意一杯咖啡一本书渡过平静的一天。 我想快跑，在阳光下飞奔，直到气喘吁吁，我想大喊，放声高唱，释放整个一个冬天的抑郁，可是我什么都没有做，有那么一点空闲，在煲汤和煮饭之间，看了一部浪漫片，断断续续地，但足以让我投入，之后，又要坚决地对自己说，都是假的，都是做梦，现实本就是一地鸡毛。 从来没有和他携手去看冰湖，冬天的瀑布，春天的涡流。那年5月，我对着山谷呼喊你在哪里，他却反问，你在哪里，不断重复，空谷回音。 不如问贝贝，你今天好吗？好，我玩得很好。贝贝就是我的指南针。

我坐在桌前，望着窗外，多么安静的清晨。灰色的云在空中徜徉，鸟儿在林间鸣叫，松鼠在树上跳来跳去。我最喜欢这样清静的早晨，有一份闲隙，什么都可以不做，都可以不想，让湿润的空气和微风偷走我的时间，有什么比这样的早晨更让人惬意。我多么想回到从前幼稚的年代，找个伤感的理由，或许一个新的开始。雨后湿润的风和灰云总给我几分宁静几分无奈。 就这样吧。