On 12/13/2012, a friend of mine sent me this story by Chi Zijian. Below is the beginning and the ending of this short piece.
The author records a piece of her childhood memory, a sweet one in hindsight, when her father took her and her sisters to the snow-covered mountain in winter. I am not sure if the father was aware of this far-reaching impact on his daughter. Maybe it doesn’t matter whether or not he was aware of that. What matters is the result.
Reading piece like this often leaves me with a feeling of regret and then of sadness because, once it’s gone, I cannot relive those precious childhood with them. I should have done this or that with my children to make them happier.