Liu Yuxin: The Twilight Year

Author: Liu Yuxin, Class 3 of Ya'an Tianli School, Sichuan Province

Time flies, years go by, and flowers blossom. The face will grow old, and the years will not stop. The deep topic of life contains the most extreme experience of all human beings, including love.

At dusk, the radiance of the sun was crushed and scattered to the earth. I walked down the road, fiddling with my phone. The streets were bustling with people, and I heard a few light coughs. I looked up and saw an old man sitting on a wooden recliner, his hands rubbing his knees unconsciously. I don't know how many times the dark pants have been rubbed, and they are already a little shiny. An old man in his twilight years, leaning on the dusk and looking into the distance, did not know whether he saw children playing and playing in the distance, or his own lost youth.

"At first, I didn't understand the style of cold and warm, washed away the lead, knew the sky was high and cloudy." A flash of light, a thousand years of Huabiao. The years have carved large and small traces on people's bodies, leaving countless regrets. Curious, I stepped forward and asked him, "Grandpa, why are you sitting here and not coming home?" He lifted his head and his cloudy eyes were filled with the glow of dusk. His face was a relic of the wind of time, and his withered hand seemed to have only a thin layer of skin left. He looked at his lips and squirmed, and the silence bowed his head in the noise.

After a while, he stood up and patted the clothes on his body, slow and clumsy. He said: "I was waiting for my home. I was stunned and asked him a little dazedly, "Your family?" "Hmm." A man came up to him and asked, "Dad, Mom, why haven't they come back?" The old man smiled and pointed down across the street. Facing him, an old grandmother, holding a small child in her hand. The child bounced and pulled her forward, and the old man laughed and told him to run slower.

The sun shone brightly on his silver-gray hair. The man grabbed the child who rushed over and carried him on his back. "Good afternoon, Grandpa!" The crisp child's voice made the old man smile at once. At dusk, the old man took the grandmother's hand, and the family greeted the light, and their shadows stretched very long under the dusk.

People pick up fallen leaves and flowers and hang on to the lost years. Aging and death are everywhere like roses, and in the twilight years, there is still love and resistance to the years, and flowers bloom everywhere.

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