It is raining out outside; the rain lasted for the whole day and there’s no sign of stopping. It didn’t get bigger or smaller; she sits by the desk, can’t feel the time is flowing quicker or slower. She has a habit of keeping a diary, but today, there seems to be nothing noteworthy. She leans back on the chair and presses her thumb and middle finger against the temple. Wetty air and grey sky usually cause people feel lonely. She unlocks her phone and founds no one has sent a message to her. She put the diary at the tip of her nose and gently sniffed the fragrance of paper and ink. She is alone but she doesn’t feel lonely. The potted plant on her desk is still as ordinary as it was yesterday: purple flowers hiding behind the leaves. “Is the color of this flower lighter today?” she questions herself. She doesn’t know or she can’t remember. She picked up the pen laying on the desk again, hoping inspiration can flow from the tip of the pencil to her brain. Yesterday, she wrote about this never stopping rain. The day before yesterday, she wrote about a bird resting on the balcony of her department. A week ago, she wrote about the blossom of her potted plants. There isn’t an ordinary day because there isn't a day that can be exactly  the same as any other day. Life always brings to her today things that are different from yesterday. She knows it but can’t see it. Playing the leaves between her fingers, she stares into the rain. Countless silver threads slide into the pond, the droplets pop out of the water as if a band is holding a concert. She remembers that day was also a rainy day. It wasn’t raining heavily, rain mildly drops on her face and her trench coat. A bag of tomatoes held loosely in her left hand, her mom and she were quarreling about putting sugar or salt in the tomato puree tonight on her phone. Everything seemed so serene and peaceful. Imaging the scent of tomato puree and baked garlic bread, she quicken her steps climbing the stair to her department on the fourth floor. Then she started falling. There’s no sign or omen, like a piece of leaf doesn’t know when it’s gonna fall off the branch, it just happened casually and unreasonably. People call this an accident. There’s no time to think, no time to act, no time to feel helpless, Then, she couldn't recall anything……for a few weeks. The moment she woke up, she was surrounded by people, people with unfamiliar faces. But no matter how many people there were, the only expression on their faces is anxiety. “Are they people she used to be closely connected with?” Questions rushed into her head but she knew none of them. She knew she was supposed to feel guilty for not remembering but she didn’t understand why. She wanted to be angry at herself for not remembering, but she forgot how to be angry. She thought she was sad for not remembering but she didn’t know sadness felt like. As if all the feelings that accompanied her life had disappeared, she can’t tell guilty from sadness, anger from happiness. She can’t feel anything except the endless hollowness and loneliness. At this moment, she felt that her life was as ridiculous as a candy jar. People she knew filled the jar with candies and chocolate, but a naughty child knocked it over for no reason. Candies are all over the place and the jar was pathetically empty again. A candy jar can't pick up candy by itself. 

People always value what they have lost once most. Even after the recovery which lasted a few weeks, there are still things she couldn’t quite remember. They are like the dew in the morning, one second in the palm of the hand but slipping away from the fingers the next second; they are like rain in fog, one can vaguely hear but can’t see through. Such as her best kindergarten friends, she only knew she used to have such a friends but couldn’t recall what they did together how she looked like, or even her name. She recalled when she was six, learned the word photograph for the first time, she asked her mom whether she has a photo of her and her friend. Maybe she already forgot at the time. It’s like a pain in her chest, feeling pity for couldn’t be part of each other life again. She used to be numb to the fact people forget, believing it’s just part of the nature of life. But it’s like one can be scared by a rope after once bit by a snake, she doesn’t want to forget again, not even just one thing. The hollowness and loneliness, she doesn’t want to go through it again. She started keeping a diary, every day. There is no ordinary day because life always brings to her today something different from yesterday. Time is a cruel thing, it’s like a child taking candies from a candy jar, no one knows when and how much he will take; no one knows when and how much they will forget. One feels lonely because one forgets, his jar is always empty. She thought: that maybe the more she remembers the less lonely she would feel, because it would keep reminding her that her life is filled with benevolence from others, they could be her friends, her parents, or animals, and plants. People are destined to forget, but remembrance is the only little miracle she can give to herself tomorrow. 

So there must be something she missed, it’s a pathetic thing if one can’t even form a line on their diary one day. She pulls her sight from the rain back to her diary and randomly flipped some pages forward. 

March 29, 2022:

It has rained for a whole day, thanks to the rain, I don’t need to water the plants on the balcony myself.

March 28, 2022:

A bird showed up on my balcony, is he looking for something? Winter has just passed is he looking for food? I gave him some bread, hoping he won’t hungry again.

March 22, 2022:

The potted plant on my desk bloomed. They are just ordinary purple but they look so good. But isn’t it bloomed too early?  Flowers usually blossom in summer, right?

She smiles and stares into the rain again. As if responding to her anticipation, a gust of wind blew off a piece of leaf off the branch. She sees it dancing with the wind in the sky. Raindrops hit on it but it flies higher and higher. One spin after another, it’s beautiful and elegant. But still, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s just a puppet of the wind, being pushed into the rain by a gust of wind that comes from nowhere, it has no control over which path it will take or where it will land. The leaf wobbling, slowly and quietly lands on the water on the pond. Raindrops collide with water as if a band is welcoming its arrival. Life is filled with uncertainties, one accident after another. She doesn’t know where the next accident is waiting for her. She is the leaf, everyone is the leaf. Being pushed here and there by life or being thrusted into a new phase of life totally without preparation. Everyone is lost, and no one is ready, but one can prepare. She will carry the diary with her no matter where she lands. She records and remembers everything. It brings her safety because what has happened is the only thing that can never be changed, it will always be there guiding her and giving her courage no matter what will happen. 

She picks up the pencil again.

March 30, 2022:

A piece of a leaf was blown off the branch……