The Willow Branch That Never Fades 永不褪色的柳枝
英文睡前故事 Bedtime Story
Little Lin loved spring. She loved the warm rain, the buzzing bees, and the way the wind carried the scent of fresh earth. But this year, spring felt different. Her grandmother had passed away in winter, and Lin missed her more than words could say.
One morning, her mother said, “Today we will visit Grandma at the hillside. It’s almost Qingming.”
Lin didn’t understand. “How can we visit her? She’s not there.”
Her mother smiled softly. “Her body rests there, but her love lives in our hearts. Qingming is the day we sweep the graves, offer food, and show that we remember.”
So Lin and her family walked up the misty hill, carrying a basket of oranges, rice cakes, and a small pot of tea—Grandma’s favorite. They cleaned the moss from the stone, placed fresh wildflowers around it, and poured tea in a circle near the grave.
Lin whispered, “Grandma, I miss you. I drew a picture of us under the old banyan tree. I left it here for you.”
As she tucked the drawing beneath a smooth stone, a gentle breeze lifted a single willow branch from a nearby tree. It floated down and landed softly on Lin’s palm.
“Look,” her mother said. “Willow branches are for Qingming. They help guide our loved ones’ spirits home, just for a little while.”
That night, Lin placed the willow branch under her pillow. As she closed her eyes, she dreamed of Grandma—not as a ghost, but as a warm light. They sat under the old banyan tree, eating rice cakes and laughing. Grandma touched Lin’s cheek and said, “I see your picture, little one. And I will always be with you—in the spring rain, in the willow’s shade, and in your kind heart.”
Lin woke with tears on her cheeks, but also a smile. She hugged the willow branch and whispered, “Good night, Grandma. I’ll remember you every spring.”
And from that year on, whenever Lin saw a willow branch sway in the breeze, she knew it was Grandma’s way of saying, “I’m still here. And I love you.”
