I lived with my grandpa for a while.

I was still young at that time, and every time I got up, I could see my grandpa feeding the pigeons in the yard.

There happens to be a sweet-scented osmanthus plant in a yard that is not too big or too small. Every time I don’t notice it, I can smell a strong aroma that accompanies me to get up, eat with me, and accompany me to and from school.

Grandpa didn't keep those pigeons because I never saw a hut somewhere where the pigeons lived, and I never knew where they came from.

I could just see them jumping around and eating small pieces of bread, millet grains, and small corns fed by my grandpa.

I never even thought that these foods would be liked by a group of pigeons. I would urge them to fly over every morning, and my grandpa would get up early to feed them.

At dawn, I woke up drowsily. I washed my face with a small towel and brushed my teeth with a small toothbrush. Then I carried my small schoolbag and walked dizzy through the pigeons. My grandpa scolded me softly because those pigeons You should be frightened by me.

However, I have never seen those pigeons leave my grandpa. They are not my old acquaintances, but belong to my grandpa. Because of this, my grandpa's grandson will not scare them.

Sometimes, I also wonder if there is a possibility that my grandpa found a nest for them somewhere, and they would fly over when it was time to eat, and my grandpa would know full well and take out the "delicious food" he had prepared. "Feed them, just like my grandma, as long as they make two yohoo sounds every time, I know it's time to eat.

When I jumped out of the little nest they built for me, I was just like those pigeons.

But when I grew up, I searched over and over again, but could not find the nest my grandpa built for them. I would never see my grandpa again.

Those pigeons no longer appeared in the small yard.

Now, I can think that when my grandfather passed away, those pigeons would also pass away.

It may be because there is no one to feed them, or it may be that they are missing a lonely companion.

This is a lonely concern.

Once upon a time, I thought about having such a "care". The pigeons were my grandfather's "care", and my grandpa was the pigeon's "care". Grandpa fed the pigeons, and the pigeons came to this small yard and waited.

I don’t have a group of pigeons that I can get up early to feed, so I have lost this natural concern. I deliberately create the so-called concern. I raise cats, dogs, and turtles, and they seem to become mine. I care about you, but I cultivate it too deliberately, which makes me always think that this kind of care is heartless, boring and boring.

Because I have never had a group of pigeons that came from nowhere and were waiting for me to feed them.

To this day, I still can't figure out whether it was my grandpa who was waiting for those pigeons, or whether those pigeons were waiting for my grandpa.

Or, they are waiting for each other.

This makes me confused, unable to understand, unable to answer.

I can't imagine or see that my cats, dogs, and turtles will be so sad because of my departure after I die.

Leave the place where I feed them, or never come back.

I can only imagine how miserable they will be after losing me...either they end up on the streets and become wild cats and dogs, or they die in a place where I will never see them again, becoming shriveled corpses swept into the trash can.

This is such a sad thing, but I am so calm now.

So now, I am somewhat afraid, afraid of death.

I was afraid I would die, just like I imagined my mother dying.

My mother must also be afraid of death. She must be afraid of how I will live after she dies. Will I end up on the street and become a wild child? Will I be bullied by relatives who flock to me? Will I no longer be optimistic and cheerful?

life...

What to do if you encounter difficulties in the future...

What to do if you get seriously ill in the future...

What to do if you have mental illness in the future...

Who... would be like her, wholeheartedly, and hold me in the palm of their hand as a treasure...

Thinking of this, I can also understand human beings' fear of death.

Obviously you will have nothing and no consciousness after your death. From now on, everything in the world will no longer have anything to do with your cold body.

I also feel inexplicably afraid of death.

"Hello……"

I stroked the cat, and it lay lazily, just because I wanted to touch it. It noticed it and felt close to me.

My dog ​​also came bounding to the bed. It is not as pretentious as my cat and needs me to sleep with it, but when it sees me getting up, it happily runs to me.

The turtle I kept in the small water tank was scratching against the sand and gravel. It didn't know that I was awake. I could only suddenly think that it knew that I was awake, so it could get some bread crumbs.

This is something I take the initiative to keep at home, rather than a "distant friend" like those pigeons that fly over because of my arrival.

I don't care about my grandfather as naturally as I do, but I still care about him.

I must get up early and go to bed early, and live a regular life, otherwise my cat, my dog, and my turtle will be hungry all day long because of my laziness.

I took the initiative to raise them. Their lifespan is not as long as mine, so I also want to see them die naturally. Although when I bought them, I did not expect that they would die on my hands, but as time goes by

I can't help but be afraid that the day they die will become the most terrifying day in my life.

Suddenly, I had to face three life-and-death partings.

Oh...maybe two.

Because there is a turtle.

When cats and dogs die, will I shed tears?

Or should I say that I will definitely burst into tears?

I haven't thought about the day when they leave my world, what kind of expression I should use to face them, but after all, it is a bad emotion, and I won't think about it anymore.

"Nice to have you."

I fed them their own breakfast. It only took ten minutes. I didn't even eat breakfast, so they finished it. They lived a more comfortable and carefree life than I did. I couldn't help but think about my departure.

What would it be like to feel about them?

Do they cry?

Why would you cry?

Or maybe, soon after, when they had a premonition that they were about to die, what they were thinking about was me, who had been with them for so long?

I thought that animals would also care about me and it would be too harsh to criticize them, so I could only think about this matter silently, and then think about nothing else.

After all, those pigeons did not visit my grandfather on his hospital bed the day he passed away.

The day my mother passed away, my father did not come to visit.

I looked at the sky from a distance, wondering if those pigeons would visit my grandfather's grave when no one was around.

I looked at the sea from a distance, wondering if my father would visit my mother's grave without me knowing.

This person whose only photo remains in his world is still smiling.

I can't blame my mother for not being able to express her concerns.

I can't blame my father too much for not being able to come to me and express his concerns.

I can only, bit by bit, own my own concerns.

It will no longer be a cat or dog, but a living person.

I hope that I will indeed meet "her" and then we will become each other's thoughts.
Chapter completed!