等一场飓风来袭，一场八十四年不遇的飓风，等来的却只是一场不大不小的风雨。

那个名叫Hillary的飓风还真没有来，变心了，拐了个弯去了别处：）周日，五级地震倒是不请自来。

昨夜打开窗，想让带着雨丝的风吹进，想让雨刷去窗缝间沉积多年的尘垢。不料一阵狂风吹起，卷珠帘，将桌上的那盆兰花打翻在地。扶起时发现，那片宽大的叶片被折断了。

女儿这次很记挂家里，让人暖心。

风雨过后，一地落叶。

昨日风雨交加，昙花却如期独自静静地绽放。只是没了赏花人，连我也忘了它。今早摘下这三朵尚未完全闭合的花蕊，心惜之。不是你不再美，而是人心便如此，忽视了身边的拥有，忽视了默默无闻的陪伴。（四朵是8/18夜开的，三朵是8/20的）

《长相思》第一季追完了，第二季要等明年。仙侠剧好看的，飘飘渺渺虚虚幻幻，却满足了人的想象。故事里男女主人公缠缠绵绵的爱恨情仇，一个女人被四个男人爱，何其虐心！ （下面的这段是青丘公子写给小夭的信，当时顺手记了下来。 再读，其实也没觉的写的有多好，估计人比较容易在剧情中被感动。）最后小夭要嫁的是丰隆，就是当今所说的政治联姻。

你若是风中莲
我愿做水中风
相见相思
你若是云中月
我愿做天上云
相恋相惜
你若是树上藤
我愿做山中树
相伴相依

纵然世间有悲欢
纵然人生有聚散
但我心如磐石无转移
只愿和你长相守
不分离

下面的英文是断断续续写的，东一点西一点在电脑里，也收集起来放在这里吧。

09/2022

It was 8ish on the Labor Day Sunday morning. Unlike any other crisp morning here in Southern CA, this windless morning plagued by a prolonged heat wave was swelteringly hot. The concrete-paved ground  that had collected the morning heat was diffusing like a steamer.  The palm trees and lawns next to it could no longer help moderate the temperature. They looked weary too. But that did not seem to put a damper on people. A team of around 20 people, mostly women with an addition of four or five men, were standing there undaunted. The familiar Chinese music was floating in the air, to the beat of which they wriggled their bodies.  Em stood among them, stretching, bending, twisting and jumping as they used to do every Sunday morning. Soon the upper parts of their T-shirts were wet with sweat.

The teacher stood in the front, instructing through a microphone headset tilted to her mouth, as she danced. She is lithe and young-looking, and the fact that she is ten years senior than Em floored her.  “Can I be as young and agile as she is in ten years?” Em doubted it.

A two-week’s record-breaking bout of heat wave was finally eased today as a moderate rainfall quelled the sizzling earth.

07/15/2023

Dancing with the team becomes Em’s newfound passion and pastime. Though she was not born a dancer, as her later years’ stunted growth in height disqualifies her, her love for music is in her blood, and dancing to the music is thus made sensational.  In her mid-50s, without many house chores and the daughter around, her desire of living her own life is rekindled and only becomes more intensifying as aging creeps upon stealthily. Dancing re-invigorates her body, her arms, her legs and her heart.

After a year's dancing with the team, Em decided to take one bold step further – to join the team in the video-taped performances.  She deemed this a chance to lively record herself that can attest to the years.  The evanescent bygone youth is never to be salvaged, neither will be the current middle-aged years.  Life is a one-way street, but with videos and pictures, at least she could revisit the memory lanes. 

Em had to rummage in the drawer for the makeup, when the dance teacher’s dress code sent through Wechat asked for light makeups for the video-taping. It must be almost a decade since her last use of makeup, possibly at a job interview when that was ever needed.  She found a large ziploc bag left behind by her daughter, where some cases, tubes and brushes were kept.  She picked up a disguised lipstick, and put it on her lips, only to find that it was a foundation. While a lipstick, found in a half-dried and half-emptied bottle, was in the shape of an eyelash brush.  Em could not help laughing at herself for being so behind and ignorant. Cosmetics, like fashion, must have upended itself in this evolving era.

Em looked at herself in the mirror, a middle aged woman, whose countenance had long lost its youth and luster. Aging was now in every cell of her face.  Despite the recently dyed hair, the wrinkles and creases in the eye corners and below the jaw however were starting to emerge. The once velvety skin that she was most proud of was now blemished with dotty dark spots. The UV rays in the sun that greehs her almost every day must have done its job.  Em was a bit melancholy as she brushed the foundation here and there, trying to cover the dark spots up.  

In her light makeup and a long red skirt, Em drove up to the great park. It was around 6:50 pm, but the nearest parking lot to the square was fully packed.  Em U-turned, parked afar, and made a beeline across the lawn.  She looked around, and saw to her right on the lawn a big white sheet highly elevated for the projection of a movie.  “The park is a hub of the city now.” Em thought to herself, while she quickened her steps towards the square.  

It’s a high summer evening.  After a day’s sun bake, the ground and the air were balmy. The sky was still blue with wisps of clouds drifting around. Em joined the team, lined up and poised for the music to start. The sun setting in the west torched the sky crimson, turning the houses in the distance next to it in dark silhouette.  Nearby, a big orange balloon, the icon of the county, was half rising in the sky.  The towering palm trees around were glowing in the last sunrays.  It was against this backdrop that Em and her team danced in the twilight.

The night finally fell. As Em waved good-bye to the team who stayed on for more dances, she saw the huge orange balloon glowing high above in the night sky, beckoning her a good night.

06/24/2023

The news was broken to Em on the morning of May 23 on her way to work. A friend of Em’s  left a voice message on Wechat that Jen, the elder daughter of Lis, their mutual friend, fell off a cliff and died when she and her boyfriend was touring Switzerland.  Tears welled up in Em’s eyes as the sudden and heart-wrenching news gripped her.  Old memories resurfaced.  It was during the first few years in the states, two decades ago that Em met Lis in the same apartment complex they lived. Lis came from Shenzhen to join her husband, who after a year or two stints in Canada, found a job in the states. Lis brought with her the little Jen, who was 6 or 7 years old at the time.  They befriended each other, taking their daughters to the same piano school and having them learn Chinese together.

Who would think that a young and blossoming life came to an abrupt end like this?

Jen’s memorial service was scheduled on June 24. In all her black shirt and suit, Em appeared in front of a small church thirty minutes’ drive away where the memorial service would be held.  A long table was set up in the hallway by one side, collecting attendants’ name and signups. Em followed the line, scribbled down her name, and started scouring for Lis, who she had not met for ages.  There at the entrance to the inner hall stood Lis, greeting and hugging passersby. She was in her black shirt, with golden threads fringing the edges of the thinly knitted skirt. Her hairs peppered with some gray were tied back in a bun.  In her mid-fifties, Lis still looked gracefully beautiful. At a wave of the hand, Em briskly walked towards Lis and embraced her.   A bit surprised as Em did not register online beforehand, Lis recognized her instantly and burst out crying. The sadness was ineffable.  She only patted Lis’s sobbing back and tightened her arms around her in tears.

Em saw Jen’s boyfriend when he delivered the speech. He was the only witness, who knew what happened. But the recount of the accident was so short that Em only remembered two sentences: “ Jen slipped, and I could have held her… The helicopter came after about an hour…”

What could really happen? Em sat there, sunk in thought.  

Rumors had it that it was not an accident.