This is a topic that I wanted to write about in the spring. One day I saw my friend posted a photo of cherries, and it reminds me that the 20-year-old cherry tree downstairs would also bear fruit. Maybe the gluttonous birds might have tasted it already. I always miss my neighbors' harvest of cherries, for I have to work at the weekdays. What touched me the most is that my neighbors will me leave me branches with cherries on them, even though I've grown up.
Maybe it's the love, deeply but silent, from the elders.
When it comes to cherries, I've always been confused about the relationship between different kinds of them. I can distinguish them only by color: some of them are purple, some of them are deep red, and the others are vermilion which are the same as women's lips. These three kinds of cherries are also different in taste. I only love the most primitive cherry.
Cherries weren't an generous edible fruit when I was growing up. I can remember the year my aunt married my uncle and she brought me the most cherries I've ever seen in my life. How much? I think the 80-90 generations should have taken a bath in a big plastic tub. The cherries she brought could fill-up two of them. Cherry was my first impression of my aunt.
In the past, we're eagerly to chase whatever hard to get. When I was young, I was so attached to the red and green canned cherries on the cake that I would definitely eat them whenever I saw them. In fact, the cherries are just decorations with preservative and really taste bad. So what? Just as now we are always asking for people and things that we cannot get, but seldom of them are our truly love.
I once had a period of living in the mountains, that may be my only childhood. The children in the same courtyard will go up the mountain to pick fruit in the Spring. Most of them are wild goods in the mountains. Even now, I still can remember they were sweet.
When three or four o 'clock in the morning, the children in the same courtyard asked me to get up and catch fireflies. The children of today must have hardly seen these little shining elves. My hometown once set up a firefly theme park, and I heard that it cost a lot of money to transport the fireflies by air. Unfortunately, there was a stampede on the opening day, and there were few fireflies left. Nowadays, although the kids have phones, computers and iPads, they don't have the colorful and interesting childhood as I used to have.
By the way, even though I'm an 18-year-old girl already, my mom would still insist on asking me whether I wanna to eat the decorative fruits on the cake on my birthday. I think, no matter how many years have pasted, I'll always be the little girl in my mother's heart.
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