Why we leave home ? Can they go back?
2015-12-04
For most of us, when we graduate from college, we graduate from home. We don't ask for money from home, we don't accompany mom and dad regulary, and we gradually adapt ourself to the new environment as much as possible. Why we leave home when we grow up?
I still remenber, after 10 years living in the town, the mom of my grandpa demanded to go back home villiage. It was very troublesome as the house in the villiage is very very old and she needs someone to take care of. What's worse, in the year of 1998, the flood put our village into danger. Everybody in the family refused to sent her back to village but the old lady was quite determined. She even said that if you guys don't help me go home, I myself will crawled back to home. One year after back home. she died.Why the old demand to go back home before dying?
And how's the feeling of departure and arrival for those refugees in the middle-east nowadays? Do they feel excited when they leave their home and can they go back when they get old?
We know it's totally different.
As young Chinese, we are so lucky to live in a respectively peaceful country. We leave cos we want to experience and explore; and we can go back anytime we want.
But for some people, they have to leave home cos their home collapsed, and they cannot go back home as there's no home for them.
I don't know why but all of a sudden the pome of Yeats occurs to me.
When You Are Old
When you are old and grey and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire,take down this book
And slowly read,and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur,a little sadly,how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
When you are old and grey and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire,take down this book
And slowly read,and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur,a little sadly,how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
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