honey color

"

I was thinking about something, I knew about Musashino Art University, and my father seemed to have graduated from the video major there, so long ago, I very much hoped to follow in the footsteps of my father to enter this university.

But now, the condition of "located in Tokyo" has become the whole reason for my hesitation.

I turned my head to look at the cabinet beside me. After the photos of cherry blossoms and fireworks, the boy with chestnut hair sent several more photos one after another.But since the winter break, he has not heard from him again.I don't understand what this means, does it mean that my determination finally made him give up his persistence?Does it mean that I finally forced him to forget the spell-like agreement under the setting sun that day, and he had to let go of me and face the many scenery around him?

Even though every time I think of this, I will curl up in the quilt and listen to the wind and press my lips tightly, but I know that I have to overcome this pain.This is my selfish choice, so now, I must pay for this ending with heartache.

……

After that accident, I never went to Tokyo again.

There are many, many people who invite me to go there, but I always prevaricate them with various reasons.

This time it was Mr. Uehara, who invited me because he wanted to take me to see my award-winning painting in the youth drawing competition.

This is my second time participating in the competition, and compared to last year, my ranking seems to have improved a few places this year.

"I heard that you have a friend named Yukimura Seiichi, right?" Uehara-sensei asked me, we were walking next to the low wall extending from my house.She pushed my wheelchair and walked slowly.

"Well, Yukimura-kun met last spring."

"Yukimura...Seichi, right?" When Uehara-sensei asked in confirmation, I finally nodded:

"Ah."

Ah Ba walked beside me, he kicked the pebbles under his feet self-consciously, and made a pitiful "woo hoo" sound from time to time.

"I remember this name among the children who won No.1 this year." Ueda-sensei finished thinking about it, but I was a little surprised.But soon, this layer of surprise finally turned into happiness:

"Yukimura-kun is really amazing!"

"So Ami really doesn't want to go to Tokyo to see it with my own eyes?" Ueda-sensei asked with an Osaka accent, but I still shook my head stubbornly.

It’s okay to say I’m cowardly, but if possible, I just want to escape from that place forever.

—Because there was someone there that I was afraid to meet and never want to leave.

……

This time the painting competition has established a theme: characters.

After hesitating for a while, I still chose to let my father be my model.

It is irrefutable that he is my reliance. When I faced the sky breaking, he became the one who stitched the sky together for me.I love him, even though there are nine years between us, I still love him.It is he who gave me this body and a name that can contain everything, so that I can always catch a large field of orange flowers in my dreams.So I always want to do something for him, what words cannot express, I want to record it with a brush.

Dad is much older than when I saw him. Although it is only two years old, I can clearly see more and more gray hair on his head.Especially when I spread them one by one on the drawing paper with a pen, each one is enough to poke my heart.

I remember that the man who used to lead me to run on the grassland never wore these frosty white hair, stained with mud and soil, but he always showed me his vitality and his broad love for all things.But now, he is standing beside me, looking at me lovingly with an expression that has faded from conquest and adventure.

他 说:

"It's great to let Mi learn how to draw!"

I understand what he was thinking, and I can even understand the pain in his thigh when he looked at me crying and said "will walk for me" that night when the spring breeze swept by.That is an irreplaceable deep fatherly love, and it will continue as my persistence for a long time.

"Father" won the second prize in this competition, it was hung in a corner of the exhibition hall, and I was in the same state of mind as last year's "Night", I had to sit quietly in a wheelchair under the low wall in Osaka, imagining In the hall full of people, the expressions of people staring at my paintings.

Uehara-sensei did not convince me, she went to Tokyo alone, recorded many interesting pictures with her mobile phone and sent them to me, including the one of Yukimura.

It was just the back view of a girl in a white dress. Her slightly curly hair was draped behind her, but she accidentally got entangled with the flowers around her.However, she still stood there, with the flowers around her and the sunset above her head, like a ghost but so real.The white dress was stained with the color of the setting sun, and finally became an indispensable part of the world in this painting after being smudged by the orange light.

I recognized the world, and I remember taking my father's car one afternoon in the early summer to a hill with big daisies.I have marveled at how similar this place is to the pictures in my dreams, and even if I don't say a word, it doesn't mean that my heart is surging.

That day, I borrowed my father's camera.The strangeness in the hand and the conflict in consciousness can't stop me from using it to record.It was like a place where my dreams continued, a place that meant a lot to me.

So I specifically asked my father to develop two photos for me. One was kept in the drawer on my right hand, and the other was sent to Yukimura in Kanagawa.Behind the photo, I wrote this sentence:

"It's where my dreams continue."

Perhaps it was such a photo that inspired him to find the destination of color between light and shadow.I can even imagine him sitting in the studio facing the sea, and the sound of the tide in his ears becomes the "whoosh" sound when the flower fields are stirred by the wind.The white paper was painted bright by him, but the figure in the flower field could not be guessed.

It wasn't until Ueda-sensei announced the name of the painting at the end of the email that I bit my lip in surprise.

"honey".

——The name of this painting.

There are tens of thousands of possibilities, but everything becomes clear after the appearance of this small word.

Probably I felt my complex love for Huatian from that small photo, maybe I realized my desire to stand in the middle and think about the stars in the universe all the time, maybe I really understood its meaning to me.It was his paintbrush that stood among those flowers for me, and it was he who realized a long-standing dream for me consciously or unconsciously.

Even if everything is just white paper, it is just right for me.

"After I die, someone will walk down for you."

For some reason, my father's words came to my mind at this moment.

Maybe this is the case, at least this time, Yukimura walked in the flower fields for me, fulfilling a dream I have always had for me.

I thank him, this small painting made me thousands of kilometers away from Tokyo feel unprecedented happiness.

"Thank you, Yukimura-kun."

I finally closed the phone with the noisy cicadas in my ears.

47Chapter47. Farewell season

The author has something to say:

A shake of the hand did not let Fuji come out, but the groundwork has been fully prepared~

I think the next chapter, Honey Sauce, will be constantly tangled and tangled...  

Thinking about it so far, the summer vacation of the second year of high school in my memory is still so thrilling.

It was just an unintentional glimpse in the orange light, but it created a storm in the soul that has not subsided for a long time after that.

……

For Shiraishi and Yukimura, the third year of high school means that life has come to a node again.

But unlike the state of mind in the third grade of middle school, which seems to be able to continue the dream and youth, this intersection seems to be more "goodbye" and "end".They want to bid farewell to the passion for tennis when they were teenagers, and most of them have to choose a career that has little to do with tennis as their goal of further education.Even though many of them dreamed of becoming a professional tennis player many years ago, standing at this intersection at this moment, more people learn to give up "immaturity" and make pragmatic choices about life.

But the feeling of "working hard" that no one wants to forget, they hope to say goodbye to it in a dignified way.

So one day at the end of August, the Sitianbao Campus, which should be classified as Anning, ushered in a rare noise.

I was supposed to stay in the studio at home to complete the homework agreed with Uehara-sensei, but because Chitose told me the night before that he had received a new painting from Yukimura, I couldn't wait to rush from home to school.

Chitose guessed that I would come to school the next day, so he even opened the door of the studio early for me:

"It's okay, there is a farewell practice match tomorrow." He said on the phone, "so it doesn't take much trouble to open the door."

I therefore gladly accepted his offer, and looked forward with all my might to the next day.

At the end of August, the high temperature is no longer unbearable, and the singing of cicadas after the beginning of autumn also seems a bit vicissitudes.I maneuvered the wheelchair around the cherry trees that were already full of leaves, and after passing through a quiet corridor, I realized that the door of the studio at the end was ajar.A white light leaked from the gap in the door, painting a long strip of light on the ground.I looked at the sudden light with a hint of surprise, somewhat aware that the boy with deep eyes like the sea of ​​night had already entered the studio before me, but I was still surprised that he came so early.

So I cautiously approached the studio, and when I stretched out my hand to open the door, the tide of light finally came to me, and after covering my eyes, I squinted involuntarily.

Not quite the same as the first time, the studio in autumn is more of a faint sadness.It's like a feast ends and people disperse