Leaving her father's warm and generous shoulders and chasing his disappearing figure, the lost figure of the little girl was elongated by the setting sun. In the following spring, summer, autumn and winter, she rode a bicycle to climb hard at sunset, her thin body struggled through the wind and rain, crossed the hillside, crossed the puddles, along the long river bank, the weak branches swayed, messy Her long hair fluttered, she was searching hard at night, she was waiting in the daytime, with a sticky longing that was about to stick to her progress, waiting for the father she couldn't wait for. Everything is so powerless. Just like Kawabata Yasunari wrote the old man in "Sleeping Beauty", after appreciating the beauty of the young woman, he had to be sad: "Maybe there will be no chance to meet this girl again". In the story, the bicycle that belonged to the father disappeared by the tree after the little girl grew up, implying that the little girl had accepted the fact that her father had left forever, and she would never have the chance to meet him again. However, the wheels of the bicycle keep turning, and the footsteps of life will not stop. In the process of the girl looking for and waiting for her father, there are disappointments and loneliness, but there is no despair. When she stops and contemplates, a friend beckons and waits; in the sun, a lover leans on the shoulders, carrying her briskly through the shade of the trees; At that time, there were children playing beside him. Even without the company of her father, her life continues, and the girl has to experience her own spring, summer, autumn and winter, joys and sorrows. 4 In the waiting again and again, she is longing, she is lonely, she is disappointed, she accepts the reality, and she returns to peace. At the end of the story, the girl became an old man with gray temples and a staggering step, pushing a bicycle tremblingly to the place where she was waiting for her father. The sea was dry and the grass was overgrown. The bicycle fell down again and again, and the old man straightened up again and again. Finally, the old man gave up the struggle, just glanced lightly, and walked straight into the neck-length grass. Isn't it the powerless thing in life that the bicycle that falls down again and again? One goodbye, one disaster after another. In the end, isn't the old man's choice to let go just tell us to reconcile with life, to move forward, and to keep walking?
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