In the wind of the willows and the shadow of the setting sun, you slept in the walnut core that served as a boat and cradle, and flowed down the blue waves until you flowed into my arms and became my child. I remember when I picked up you who was sleeping peacefully, I raised my head and saw a pair of wings in the sky that seemed to be carrying the sunset over the mountains. That was the direction you came from. When that happy and carefree child grows tall, has his crown and hair stand up, and his temperament calms down, I will bring this land and rivers to marry you, and you will be my husband. Let you travel and wander, and when the hills and valleys in your heart are written down into the mountains and rivers, I will fold up all these years of care and worry and collect them one by one. I will be a docile little daughter who relies on you, and you will be my father.
We can't advance or retreat while wading through the water. There is a time to look into the distance, a time to meet, a time to leave, a time to abandon, and a time to miss. I came from the other side to ferry you to the other side.
I know that we belong to the same stream. Even if there are twists and turns and we have traveled thousands of miles, it is still a clear and clear stream. It's a clear stream, a shallow stream. Live up to the purity, no longer shallow.
But sometimes I can't help but wonder, if you were the one swimming upstream and I was the opposite, would the outcome be different?