Essay 丨 Letter to Old Ginkgo

Letter to old Ginkgo

East Purple

Dear Old Ginkgo: I heard you are sick. You know, my heart aches with this news. It hurts. The pain caused me to choke uncontrollably and cry in the crowd.

Dear old Ginkgo, you know, I'm afraid of losing you. Very scared. It was like fear of losing my grandmother, who cherished me. I was listening to a new friend when I was participating in the "Shandong Writers Forestry Walk" wind collection activity.

He said: "I heard that there is a problem with the ancient ginkgo tree in your hometown, and the leaves have been drying up since May. "How is this possible?! How can it be?! How could an old ginkgo that had survived tenaciously for four thousand years suddenly become seriously ill?! "Have you heard what caused it?" "The exact reason is not clear." "Is it because the ground is hardening?" I think of the dust-free ground in Dinglin Temple and the cement parking lot next to Dinglin Temple. "Is it because of the water quality?" I think of the long-lost mountain springs of Yamashita's grandmother's house--- they are two springs named after their orientation--- the front spring and the back spring. The front spring is square, and the back spring is round. They used to be sweet and clear, with small fish swimming all year round, and the walls of the spring surrounded by velvet-like emerald moss all year round. They were the big cups of water in my childhood--- lying at the mouth of the spring, drinking and watching the frightened little fish inside twist their little bodies with their tails flapping their wings; seeing the rounds of circles that emanated from the water because of the light touch of the tip of my nose... Now they are just two long-dead puddles. "Is it because of the air quality?" Although the air in my hometown is not as dirty as in the city, it is not as dirty as before.

Moreover, the flow of air is extremely fast, and even the nuclear radiation in Japan can enter our nostrils in less than two or three days. I asked my friend anxiously with my own speculations, and I was as anxious as a patient's child asking the doctor. At this moment, I remembered the usual inadvertent and serious inquiries at work, and for the first time truly understood the worries and panics in their eyes and hearts. "Maybe there are all of them, or maybe there are more and more male ginkgo biloba around, causing her to have uncontrolled results." The friend then laughed and said, "It's like a woman who always lets her have children and will be tired." I can't agree with my friend's analogy with a smile, my heart is full of anxiety, panic and pain, they are churning, and there is a possibility of breaking the embankment at any time. I tried to control my emotions, and the delicious food on the table and the laughter of the guests and friends could not enter the eyes and ears, let alone the heart.

I'm just thinking about you. Dear old ginkgo biloba. I can only think of you and worry about you. When I stayed up late at night and was able to let the tears flow, I faced my hometown and cried and begged you--- dear old ginkgo, you must be well! Please, be well! Please! Facing my hometown, I thought of the officials in my heart for the first time, and for the first time I pleaded with those who had the ability to rescue you--- begging you to quickly save the old ginkgo! Hurry up! At such moments, I hated myself for not showing up, hated my humble status, hated myself for choosing the wrong profession, hated myself for not being an experienced plant expert.

At such a time, I can only open the door of memory, recall the bits and pieces of getting along with you, and can only write you this letter, telling you about my worries, pleading, pain, panic, my prayers and thanks.

One point number Yin Yanzhong