Old love

/September 2021

I believe in love. 

Since the past dynasties, I have read a lot of Yan ci related to love, most of which are the lingering love, the madness of love, the birth of love, and the demise of love. 

My topic today has nothing to do with this. It is about the insipidity and aging of love. I am talking about a kind of white-haired love, which has no sense of beauty, no suspense, and conflict, and has been intentionally or unintentionally omitted by literati who are afraid of chaos in the world. But I'm sure such a kind of love can be seen everywhere and is close to what people call eternity. 

I suggest you look among your neighbors, and I suggest you rule out young, glued couples, focus on those old couples, and maybe find that one. 

Readers can tell that I have a pair of classics here. 

There are classics here, my neighbor, who has been dead for many years now. 

For as long as I can remember, they are no longer young, and both of their daughters are married. 

I remember that the wife was tall and could see that she was a beauty when she was young, while the husband was a little shorter than his wife, but his eyes were also very good. 

On many sunny days, they appeared in the street, the wife took a basin of clothes to the well to wash, the husband followed with a bucket, the wife patted the quilt in the sun, and the husband handed over a rattan beat. 

Once I saw their daughter take her husband and children back to their mother's house. The children knocked on the door and shouted, "Grandpa and Grandma, open the door!" 

There was a clatter of footsteps in the door, the door opened, and I saw the faces of the old couple, one on the left and the other on the right. I was surprised to find that the corners of their mouths were tilted to the right when they laughed. 

But the same smile is not enough to show the love of the old man. 

It all happened on the day the old woman died. 

People can't escape death, but the old woman died suddenly, with myocardial infarction. 

While the neighbors on the street lamented the death of the old woman, they were also worried about the husband, saying, "what will the old man do when she leaves?" 

What can the old man do? 

He just silently guarded his wife's body, and those who went to mourn saw his expression, not as sad as he had imagined; he just sat there, watching his wife calmly. 

In the early hours of the next morning, when the mourners finally dispersed, the neighbors heard the two daughters wailing again. They thought it was another outbreak of the pain of the dead mother. In the early morning, the old couple's daughter was seen to build another bed at home. Because their father was there! 

This is not a novel I made up, it's true. An old man I know went to heaven with his dead wife. 

The daughter said that the father had been sitting and looking at his mother when he died, and then he closed his eyes. 

They thought he was asleep. 

Who would have thought that a person's death would be so easy and so free? 

All the people were shocked by the husband. 

Did you die without a disease? 

No, in my opinion, the old man is robbed of the rest of his life by love, and sometimes love is a fatal disease. 

From then on, I blindly believe in the rings of love. If there is eternal love, it must be very old.

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