Water name

  I stood next to my grandfather and watched him use a long, curved branch to sway in the stream. Each time it is swiped, it will arouse layers of ripples. When it first appears, it will be washed down by the stream.

  ”Grandpa, what are you doing?” I asked him.

  ”I am living,” he said.

  ”Grandpa, I know that you are living, I am asking you what to do with that branch?” I am not satisfied with his answer.

  ”I am reminding myself.”

  ”What to remind you?”

  Grandpa handed the branch to me, “Write your name on the water.”

  I dipped one end of the branch into the stream and began to write my name on the water with a twist. After writing the last letter, I asked:

  ”And what should I do?”

  ”Write it again.” Grandpa still looked at the water.

  The branches in my hand are still marking my name on the water. Grandpa looked at the cockroaches passing by him, flowing through the stones, flowing down the mountains and flowing out of our sights.

  ”What do you see when you write your name?” Grandpa asked.

  ”I saw my name.” I shrugged and thought the answer was the most obvious. But Grandpa then asked: “See your name? You really saw your name? Look carefully, when you crossed, did your name show up?” Our grandparents watched the branches together. I crossed the water and didn’t see a single letter, unlike the one I used to write on paper. Every line I draw is immediately wiped off by water, only the water washes the branches. The aroused cockroach shows up. At this time, Grandpa asked again: “What do you see?”

  ”I saw water.” I think this answer is more insurance. “I can’t see the words I can’t see, but I still see water and ripples.”

  Grandpa closed his eyes and thought like a storyteller. He said: “When I write my name on the water, I imagine that I am the words that are washed away by water. What I do is those that show up, and the water that takes those shackles is a Full of people’s world.”

  My hands are no longer moving, the branches are no longer moving. When I look down the stream, Grandpa continues: “I remind myself that when I left the world, what I did was still alive. People are together. Although I am dead, they still remember what I did. I remind myself to live well.’

  I didn’t talk, took the branch from the water and gave it to my grandfather. He began to write his name on the water.

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