Never to Meet Again

It was the third month of spring, and the slender willows swayed gently.

Xiaoman snapped off many willow branches and arranged them in a jade vase, then brought it over to show me.

I found it dull. Supporting my back, I wandered alone along the covered walkway.

I often found myself gazing out the window at birds flying across the sky, tears slipping down my cheeks before I even realized it.

Pregnant women must all have inexplicable moments like this.