The four-day National Day holiday is officially counting down. Tomorrow it’s back to the daily grind.
It had been gray and rainy in the city for days. Only on the last afternoon of the holiday did the clouds finally break and let the long-missed sun through.
This morning, my wife’s family came over from our hometown. We sat together, chatted, and shared a meal, and after a short burst of liveliness, it was time to say goodbye again. Scrolling back through the buzzing family group chat on my phone, I couldn’t help feeling a little regret, even remorse, for not going home this National Day. People are like that sometimes: the older we get, the more sentimental we seem to become, and the harder it is to simply make peace with all the gatherings and partings.
After seeing them off, with the sun finally out, I planned to spend some time at Librairie Avant-Garde (Pioneer Bookstore) and quietly map out the next steps for the handful of website projects I’m working on. But the holiday crowds were far beyond anything I’d expected. The quarry park looked as if it had been invaded by Martians. Inside the packed bookstore, between the feeble Wi-Fi and a mobile network that had all but collapsed, I couldn’t even load a web page. My plan to get some work done was shelved, through no choice of my own.
So I gave up and took my wife to Jinwu Park nearby instead.
It was a completely different scene. Away from the crowds chasing photo spots, the park was mostly older people out for a stroll and parents with their kids. We sat side by side on a bench, watching grandmas and grandpas singing and dancing in the last glow of the setting sun. In that moment, the irritation from the noise and the dead connection at the bookstore simply smoothed away. I found myself wondering: we spend our whole lives rushing around, but what is it all for?
Right next to us, a family of three was taking photos of each other. The little girl was playfully striking all kinds of poses for the camera, her laughter bright and clear. Watching them, a strong thought suddenly came to me: I want to have a child. After all, my wife and I will grow old one day, and our lives need a vibrant new life like that to keep the days ahead bright.
As night fell, my thoughts were pulled back to reality. Deep down, I still can’t accept having to work three extra days during this National Day break. And without meaning to, I found myself calculating that my current job will probably only last until I’m 40, at most. After 40, what am I supposed to do?
The holiday is over, and life goes on. I hope that over the next three to five years, in a world so full of anxiety and change, I can truly find a path of my own.
