Chapter 13 lake

The waves separate me from the world, from the birds in the sky, from the children by the lake, from my mother on the shore.There was a brief moment of green silence, and then the waves returned to me the sky, the lake and the children's play.I emerged from the lake, and the world awaited me again, barely moving when I left. I run by the lake. Mom grabbed me with a fluffy towel.Stand here and dry off.she says. I stood still and watched the sun wash away the beads of water on my arms and replace them with goosebumps. Oh, it's windy, said Mom, putting on the sweater. Wait a minute, I want to see my goosebumps.I said.

Harlow.Mom said. I put on my sweater and watch the waves lap up and down against the shore, but it's not clumsy, it's deliberate, with an emerald-green grace.Even if a drunken person saw such elegant water waves, he would not be so drunk that he passed out. It was September, and in a few days everything would be sad for no reason.The lakeside is long and lonely, and there are only six people by count.The children stopped playing the ball, because the wind was blowing, and even they became sad. They sat down and felt that autumn had come to this endless lakeside. All the hot dog stands are boarded up with golden yellow wooden boards to seal off the smell of mustard, diced onion and long happy summer sausage.That scene was like nailing Xia Tian in several coffins with iron nails.

One after another the shutters were lowered and the doors locked.A gust of wind blew up the fine sand by the lake and smoothed away the thousands of footprints left in July and August, so at this time in September, it was only my rubber-soled tennis shoes and Donna and Deloitte.Arno's footprints are clearly visible on the shore of the lake. Dust blown by the wind covered the sidewalk like a curtain.The merry-go-round horse is hidden in the canvas tent, and the wooden horse on the copper pillar bared its teeth, freezing in mid-air in a galloping posture.Only the music composed by the autumn wind pierced through the canvas awning.

I'm standing there, everyone is in school, but I'm not. Tomorrow I'm taking the train across America to the West, so Mom and I are taking one last short excursion to the lake. This solitary atmosphere made me long for solitude. Mom, I want to run by the lake.I said. All right, but come back quickly, and don't get too close to the water. I spread my legs and ran, the sand swirling under my feet, and the wind lifted my body.You know that running is like this. When you open your arms, you can feel that there is a thin film of wind between your fingers, like a pair of wings.

The figure of my mother sitting on the ground faded away, and soon, she turned into a small brown dot, and I was the only one left around. For a twelve-year-old boy, being alone was a new thing.Usually he is used to the crowd around him, and the only place he can be alone is a corner of his soul.He was always surrounded by a group of adults, telling him what to do, and the boy had no choice but to run by the lake, even if it was just an idea in his mind, to find his own world. But right now I'm really alone. I stepped into the water and let the cool water flood my belly.In the past, among the bustling crowd, I never dared to take a second look, or go to this place, look for and call a certain name in the water, but now

Water is like a magician, sawing people in half.It feels as if you have been cut in half and the bottom half of you dissolves in the water like sugar.The cool water of the lake swayed gracefully from time to time, and then spread out into a piece of lace with intricate patterns. I called her name a dozen times in a row. Tully!Tully!Oh Tully! As a child in these situations, you really expect your calling to be answered, that whatever comes to mind will come true, and sometimes it does. I think of Tully swimming in the water in May with her golden ponytail tossed.She smiled brightly, the sun shining on her tiny twelve-year-old shoulders.I think of the lake calming down, the lifeguard jumping in, Tully's mother screaming, and Tully never showing up

Lifeguards tried to get her out but were unsuccessful.When he came back, there was only a little weed on his thick fingers, and Tully was missing. She never came back to sit across from me in the classroom, or chase balls on the red brick road together on summer nights.She swam too far and the lake wouldn't let her come back. Now that lonely autumn has come, the sky grows wider, and the lake seems wider, and the shore is so long.I walked by the lake for the last time, alone. I call her name over and over again. Tully, oh Tully! The breeze blows gently against the base of my ears, whispering like the wind blowing into a conch.The water rose and hugged my chest, then my knees, up and down, this way and that, sucking my heels.

Tully!Come back, Tully! I'm only twelve, but I know I love her very much.It was a love that transcended physicality and morality, a love that was as constant as the wind and sea and sand that lived with time, those long warm days by the lake and the sleepy calm of the school. Slowly brewed in life.Of course, the long autumns of the past few years when I helped her carry her books home from school were indispensable. Tully! I called her one last time.I was shaking and felt the water hit my face, but I didn't understand why, the water had never created such high waves here. I turned back and stood on the sand for half an hour, hoping to catch one last glimpse, to receive a message, a small memory of Tully.Then I got down on my knees and built a sandcastle, finely shaping it like Tully and I often do together, but this time I only did it halfway, and then I stood up.

If you can hear me, Tully, get this done. I turned and walked towards the brown dot of my mother in the distance.The lake washed ashore and circled around the sandcastle, gradually flattening it into the original smooth beach. I walked back along the lake in silence. In the distance, there seems to be no merry-go-round music, but in fact it is just the wind. The next day, I left by train. The train leaves no memory; it quickly forgets everything.It forgot the cornfields of Illinois, the rivers of childhood, the bridges over the rivers, the lakes, the valleys, the cabins, thatched cottages, and the countless laughs.It leaves them behind, beyond the horizon.

I grew taller and stronger, and my immature mentality gradually matured. I threw away the clothes I could no longer wear, and went from elementary school to middle school, and then to university.Then a young girl who lived in Sacramento showed up, we had known each other for a while, and we got married.By the time I was twenty-two, I had almost forgotten everything about the East. Marguerite proposed to go East for our delayed honeymoon. As recalled, the train is also two-way.Trains can quickly bring back things you left behind years ago. Lake Bluff, with only 10,000 inhabitants, emerges from the horizon.Marguerite looked extraordinarily beautiful in a new dress.She looked at me, when I gradually realized that the old world came back to reality bit by bit.She held my hand tightly as the train slid into Bluff station and our luggage was unloaded.

After many years, the appearance and figure of people have been changed by the years. Walking on the street, I found that there was not a single face that I was familiar with.There were echoes in their faces once upon a time, echoes of hikes in the valley trails.There are smiles on those faces when they graduated from primary school, when they were on a swing, and when they went up and down on a seesaw. But I didn't make a sound, I walked and watched, my heart was filled with memories of the past, just like layers of dead leaves piled up, just to achieve the fiery red of autumn. We stayed for two weeks and revisited old places together.The honeymoon was happy, I thought I loved Marguerite deeply, at least I thought so. One day before the end of our honeymoon, we were walking by the lake. The time sequence was not as late as it was in the season many years ago, but the lakeside had already appeared a little desolate.The number of tourists dwindled, a few hot dog stands were closed and boarded up, and the wind, as it always was, was waiting to sing for us.I almost saw my mother sitting on the beach as before, and the old longing for solitude came back, but I couldn't force myself to say this to Marguerite, I just put my arms around her and waited. We arrived very late that day, and most of the playing children had gone home, only a few men and women were still bathed in the wind and sunshine. The lifeboat was moored on the shore, and the lifeguard slowly walked down from the boat, holding something in his hand. Immediately I couldn't move, I held my breath and felt my body shrinking, shrinking into a twelve-year-old boy, very small, very insignificant, and full of fear.The wind was blowing, I couldn't see Marguerite, I only saw the beach, and saw the lifeguard walking slowly off the boat with a gray bag in his hand, which was not very heavy; The blood color was almost as gray and wrinkled as the bag in his hand. Wait here, Marguerite.I said, but I didn't know why I said it. Why? just wait here I walked slowly towards where the beach lifeguard was standing. He looks at me. what is that?I asked. The lifeguard just looked at me, unable to speak for a long time.He put the gray bag on the sand, and the lake murmured, wetting the surrounding land before receding. what is that?I asked again. Strange.the lifeguard said calmly. I wait for him to continue. Strange, he said softly, the strangest thing I've ever seen.She has been dead for a long time. I repeat his words. He nods.Ten years, dare I say it.No children have drowned here this year, and since 1933 there have been a dozen children drowned here, but we all found their bodies after a few hours, with the only exception I remember.This corpse is still here, why does it have to stay in the water for ten years, it is not comfortable at all. I stare at the gray bag in his hand.turn it on.I said, but I didn't know why I said it.The wind got louder. He touched the bag. Come on, man, open it!I said it out loud. Better not, he said.Then maybe see the look on my face, she's a little girl He only opens a small portion, but it's enough. The beach is very desolate, only the sky, wind and water, and the coming lonely autumn.I looked down at her lying on the ground. I said a word, a name, over and over again.The lifeguard is watching me.where did you find herI asked. Shallow water on the other side of the beach.She lay there for a long, long time, didn't she? I shake my head. Yes, a long time.Oh God, yes, a long time. I thought to myself: people will grow up.I've grown up, but she hasn't changed a bit, she's still so small, so young, death doesn't allow growth or change, she's still blonde, she'll always be young, and I'll always love her.Oh God, I will always love her. The lifeguard tied up the bag again. Not long after, I walked down the beach alone.Then I stopped and looked at the ground.That's where the lifeguards found her, I told myself. A sandcastle lay on the shore of a nearby lake, a half-finished sandcastle, just like the ones Tully and I used to build, hers half and me half.I watched it, then knelt by the sandcastle, and saw little footprints come out of the lake, back into the lake, and never come back. At this moment, I suddenly realized. I will help you finish it.I said. I finished and I slowly built the other half of the sandcastle, then I stood up and turned away so I wouldn't see it crumble in the surf. I walked back to the beach, a strange girl named Marguerite was waiting for me with a smile