Married to him for three lifetimes, he sacrificed his life for the country time and time again.
In his first life, he was a farmer who died on a battlefield without a sword. I used the wooden hairpin he gave me to pierce my throat and committed suicide.
In his second life, he was a coolie pulling a rickshaw and fell in the occupied Nanjing city. I rushed out of the cellar to lure away the pursuers and was shot to death in the rubble.
In the third life, he was a veteran. In peacetime, he washed my feet, massaged my swollen ankles, and read prenatal education stories to my swollen belly. I thought I could finally grow old together in this life.
Then there was a war on the border.
He sat in front of the old military uniform all night, and left the wooden hairpin and a note beside my pillow in the early morning——
"If the country is in turmoil, what will happen to our family? Xiaoman, wait for me."
This wait is sixty-three years.
I raised my son to be a soldier. I held my granddaughter in my arms and told stories about my grandfather. I guarded the tables and chairs he had repaired and the military uniform photos he hung at home, from black hair to white hair.
When I was ninety-three years old, I finally saw him again. He stood in the light and stretched out his hand towards me. The tips of his ears were still red, exactly the same as when we were on a blind date decades ago.
Three lifetimes. He sacrificed his life for the country time and time again, and I will wait for him to come home forever.
Someone asked me if it was worth it.
I said: The mountains and rivers are fine, the fireworks are normal, this is our little Man
