The Loofah

That may have happened more than a decade ago. A decade ago? At 15? No. Must have happened when I attended the primary school. At 10? Possibly. In a corner formed of a row of staff dormitories and a public bathroom, I, along with other little friends, brought in a number of loofah seedlings from no one knew where and planted them there. In a shop of agricultural tools, I caught them off guard when I took a piece of chemical fertilizer, a white crystal that melted as soon as the sun shone on it, and threw it next to the seedlings. Every other day, I would go there, have a look and water them. There was little sun there because there was a wall on the eastern side. Every day, for only one hour or two, the sunlight would crane its neck over the wall to have a peek before it went over the roof to the other side. Despite that, the loofah grew well. First, there were two leaves. Shortly after, there were another two leaves, four leaves, eight leaves, spouting soft curls as well, as the loofah vine climbed higher and higher, to almost reach the low rooftop of the bathroom. We were so delighted. I went home to tell Dad and Mum, saying, ‘Our loofah is in bloom, golden-yellow. In a few days, it’ll bear fruit, loofahs that are both long and big.’ Dad and Mum didn’t believe this. But we insisted that this would happen. One day, when I went to go and see the loofah again, I was taken aback by the Bureau Chief, that thin and tall man from Shandong, as he was standing by the side of the loofah vine, his hand twisting a loofah flower, as if playing with it, while speaking in a heavy Shandong accent, ‘Is this what you have planted? It won’t do. This thing attracts mosquitoes.’ ‘Why did you pick the flower?’ said I, getting anxious. ‘It’s going to bear fruit!’ ‘You want the fruit?’ He said dismissively as he reached out and picked another flower. The flower was like my heart and I felt such a heart pain! Neither my other little friends nor I dared say a word although we were very angry. The loofah didn’t die but because all of its flowers were removed, it looked very pitiable.
               To this day, I still remember that incident. Occasionally, when I talk about it, I just laugh it off. But, for some reason, whenever I see people nip off flowers, my heart always aches. I never pinch flowers unless as a last resort.
               Did I hate that adult person? No. No point hating him. However, as an adult now, and matching heart with heart, I still can’t work out what went through his mind when he did the nipping. Is it because my heart is that of a small man’s that is in no position to work out the other mind’s mindset?

丝瓜

那件事发生在十几年前，十几年前？十五岁？不，应该是上小学的时候，十岁？可能总是那个时候吧。在澡堂和一排职工宿舍形成的一个墙角，我和小朋友们不知从哪儿弄来几棵丝瓜秧，栽在那儿。我从农具店趁人不备，弄了一块化肥，是白色的晶体，一见阳光便溶化了，扔在秧棵旁。隔几天看一回，浇一回水。那儿阳光很少，因为东边还有一道围墙。每天只有一两个小时阳光才探头看看墙角，接着就越过房顶到另一边去了。不过，丝瓜长得挺好，开始是两片叶子，不久，又生了两片，四片，八片，还冒出卷曲的柔丝来。丝瓜藤越爬越高，快爬到澡堂矮房顶了。我们可高兴了，回去告诉爸爸妈妈，说：“我们的丝瓜开花了，是金黄的，再过几天，就可以结丝瓜了，又长又大的丝瓜！”爸爸妈妈不信。我们坚持说会的。有一天，我又去看丝瓜，突然大吃一惊，看见局长，那个瘦长的山东人，正站在丝瓜藤旁，手里转动着一枝丝瓜花，那样子像好玩似的。一边操着浓重的山东话说：“这是你们种的吗？这可不行，这东西招蚊子。”“你干吗摘花？”我急了。“要结丝瓜的！”“你还想结丝瓜？”他不屑地说，同时伸手又摘下一朵丝瓜花，那花似乎就是我的心。噢，揪心般的疼啊！我和小朋友们都敢怒不敢言，以后，虽然那株丝瓜没有死，但由于花全部掐光了，样子怪可怜的。
               我至今一直不记得那件事，偶尔说起，也是一笑了之，但不知怎的，一见别人随便掐花，我总是心疼，我自己不是万不得已，一般也绝不摘花。
               我恨那个大人吗？不恨，恨也无用。只是现在作为一个大人，将心比心，我仍然揣度不出那个人当时掐花的心理。也许以我小人之心是揣度不出那君子之腹的吧。