If you make simple things too heavy, life will become filled with pain. Everything you possess will eventually belong to others after your death; so why not, while you still can, give to those truly in need? The child returning home hurries along, their heart longing for home faster than even the chill evening breeze can follow. The evening breeze ripples the last wave on the river, the sunset gathers its final rays, and autumn frost watches the last migrating goose depart. Standing there in silence, I ponder deeply, my gaze drifting through the gates of distant memories. As images of running flash before my eyes, a sudden moment of clarity washes over me. A romantic escape on Sunset Boulevard, a secret known only to you and me. At this very moment, is my mother standing under the large poplar tree at the village entrance, gazing into the distance, or sitting by the stove preparing dinner for her son? Is the evening wind tousling her gray hair, or is the firelight reddening her wrinkled cheeks? In an hour, I could return to my childhood self and be a dutiful son, even though I am already a father to two children...
