Little White Flowers, Green Orange Grove, Dull Yellow
****** ***** ***** ******
The orange trees' eyes are always filled with Grandma's tears.
I missed Mom when she was young. I never knew what Grandma looked like as a child.
Back then, I thought my heart was too grand to let anyone make it swell.
I kept running away, avoiding everything that made me uncomfortable. Over time, even the slightest rise in his voice became Pavlov's bell.
Perhaps I should be the one to say that long-awaited "I'm sorry."
...How many more summers without air conditioning can a person endure?
Theme: Returning to that summer
