"Are you my snowman?" she asked.
In fact, I think childhood can be very long, long enough to stretch silently in this life. I mean, childhood becomes a little kid in a lonely house, hidden in the mansions of the adult world. He may stop going out, afraid of the dirty air and panicked pedestrians; or maybe, on a night with a very bright and full moon or in the early morning when everything is covered by snow, he sticks his head out and flutters in your heart for a while.
Most of the time, he is like a lonely child who has been secluded in a corner of his heart, making room for you to fill up with desire and pursuit.
Every winter before I started high school, the first thing I did when I opened my eyes in the morning was to rush to the window, wipe away the condensed mist with my hands, and take a look with anticipation. Looking back on the past few years, this is one of the most joyous and pure expectations I have ever had. And there is no snow in winter in the south, which makes me miss it all the more.
The little boy in the movie is just like me, awakened by the silver earth in the early morning while still sleepy. He was so excited he made a snowman out of the best he could find. He also found a scarf to wrap around him carefully.
Night is always mysterious to children. With subtle excitement and irrepressible curiosity, he quietly went out to see his snowman. The snowman moved, he could laugh and hug his friends. The boy showed him his house, and he showed the boy his world—a new, incredible, very wonderful world. The boy was surprised to find that there were so many lovely things that he did not know in the snow field and the night.
They say goodbye before dawn - no continuation of the dream is allowed during the day. The boy hugged his friend again, and he went back to the warm bed to sleep peacefully. Outside his window, the snowman stood in his original position, as if he had never moved.
The boy had a good night's sleep. He woke up, still with joy and anticipation, hurriedly dressed downstairs, and rushed to the door of the room -
but what awaited him was a pile of snow that melted beyond recognition, and the scarf.
He stood at the door. He has grown up.
He would not tell anyone the story, the other world he had seen with his own eyes that night.
But it will be deeply imprinted in his mind, and these things will give him a map that is richer and more complete than others.
Then I thought, maybe everyone encounters such a snowman.
Your snowman. He opens up your horizons, stretches the frontiers of your universe, and opens a new window for you.
Yes, he doesn't open a door for you, he doesn't take you in, he just lets you see how good the view is from the window, and then you have to find that door yourself.
But like all snowman, he must disappear, just like spring must come.
One day the faith in your heart will replace the brilliance of your admirers - when you finally grow up and can navigate the vast universe without the guidance of others.
But he will be replaced, but not forgotten. Remember that lonely child who still lives in the corner of your heart? That kid will always remember him.
The boy in the movie could become a poised musician, a successful doctor, a mediocre office worker or a boring businessman. But I believe he has another self living in that house forever, expecting a big snowfall when the night comes. Looking forward to a snowman, take him out.
Will this expectation be worn away by reality? I have no idea. When you no longer have the motivation to explore the universe or you think you have explored the universe to know everything, will a snowman point out a new field for you?
That withdrawn kid would like to believe something, he's always curious about everything, he's always willing to find out.
And I think, I'm afraid this time you're on your own.
Because in the best case scenario, You are the snowman of yourself.
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