As I look back on this winter, I always miss my extra special dandelion. I don't know if she has survived this winter.
I often think about why she chooses to blossom in spring instead of blossoming in this winter at once. During this month,my heart was filled with this dandelion and I want to know if she also loves me .
But I was on the point of trying to love her, when the dandelion withered this winter.
My grandma told me this message by email.
I knew this day would come, because she is a flower. A flower I've hated since childhood.
I hate her. She hates me for dropping her best time like other dandelions. I made her only wither in winter. I am the rope that binds her so that she can't bloom like other dandelions.
When I grew up, I was not her shackle; she was the main one.
She abandoned all hobbies and her beloved job. Nobody leaves a reverse past road, including herself. When I was born, she only told me that she had abandoned everything for me. I am her only wish and shackle.
At the same time, I'm gradually understanding her and trying to love her again. Maybe I love her with pain, but it's my natural instinct. Because she is my mom.
I asked my grandma why my mom could not love me purely？
She answered me, "Because I never loved her purely either." I remember she was silent for a long time.
She made her a bird, and then when she flew high and far, she crash-landed and became a dandelion like her.
She thought she could get happy.
So I knew she really loves me so that I can also take on the shackles. It's hers and mine. Luckily, I became a bird, and I can cross over the mountain that hinders me with her.
When I wanted to take her, she had been trapped between the last spring and the one that didn't come.
She died in the winter.
I come back to my grandma's home, dandelions are blossoming. I wish next special dandelion can get freedom.