In the spring afternoon, the sunshine slightly fades away the temperature.

I made an appointment with some children outside my house and started playing ball.

The reason why we call them kids is because most of the members except me are under ten years old.

Playing ball doesn't matter what type of ball it is.

We play everything, basketball, football, paper balls wrapped with old newspaper words... As long as it can be wrapped into a circle, as long as it can be played in the hands, as long as it can be played under the feet, it can be used by us.

Three or five people automatically formed groups. The older ones and the ones who were not very agile walked together and laughed and got into a ball on the asphalt road in the village.

Occasionally, when a child fails to grab the ball, his little face droops and tears fall down, just like those children in the old sad movies who grew up eating grass and mustard greens in the mountains. They are always pitiful.

When his partner returned the ball to him, he started laughing again.

Children's emotions always come so easily.

You can laugh or cry as you please, you never have to hide it, and you don't have to worry about not understanding the world in his heart. You can always tell something by looking into his clear eyes.

It's really enviable.

The ones who impressed me the most were the children of Uncle Liu’s family at the east end of the village.

Everyone in the village said that this child's life was miserable. His mother left home decisively after giving birth to the two brothers and sisters. His father was a gambler. He only followed his elderly and sick grandparents, always relying on the support of neighbors.

That’s life.

I have been studying abroad for many years, and the days I go home are very few. I remember that every time I see these two children, their cheeks are sallow, and they look like they are malnourished. Their eyes are always sparkling, like

It is full of endless sadness.

I told my mother this, and she just smiled indifferently. Where did the child get his sadness?

Most of the sadness is just that the food you want to eat is not available; the toys you want to get are not accessible.

I laughed too.

I wonder if they are sad at all?

It seems that everything is not so important anymore.

I'm just so excited for this rare joy that I've created.

I made them laugh, didn't I?

As a happiness creator, I gave them a moment of joy and warmth.

Perhaps when they recall these days a few years later, they will remember a big sister wearing a yellow coat who accompanied them to blow the warm March wind and embrace the lazy sun with them in the bright rapeseed fields.

Perhaps they will still smile, remembering that this person once appeared in their world and brought them the simplest joy.

Playing ball has nothing to do with your interest.

Our greatest ambition is to simply run and experience the visual feast brought by the running sphere.

The big ball always rolls faster than the small one; the small ball flies farther than the big ball; the paper ball can't catch up with the ball, but it is easier to be held in the hand... It's like a hideaway

If the circle is not opened, it is impossible to say which one is good or which one is bad.

If you really take possession of it and observe it carefully, it can really make people think about it for a while.

But I don't want to think about that.

We just want the joy of having the ball.

As for the troubles in this world.

There are so many great principles that I cannot fully understand, or it may be difficult for me to understand them throughout my life.

Therefore, I would rather harvest this short-term happiness!

It has nothing to do with anything else, only yourself, only your smile, only the breeze and the fragrance of flowers, only a group of lovely people and a bunch of colorful spheres.

When I was playing ball as a child, most of the time, like my peers, I only knew how to grab it. I always felt that only by getting the ball into my own hands could I really win this big or small game.

At that time, television was still an extremely rare entertainment facility. Only the village chief at the east end of the village had one in his home.

When we play ball, we always let the winner hold the basketball with the word "Jordan" written on it, and go all the way to the village chief's house to sit down, laughing in front of the slightly muddy TV screen, without feeling at all.

Embarrassed.

Wait until dusk turns the sky orange-red, then play and play together and return home for dinner.

Gobbling down the not-so-exquisite meals on the table amidst the chattering of adults.

When I grow up and play with a ball, I will just stand and kick it at people randomly. I will never reach out to pick it up unless I have to.

There is no such thing as a winner, every ball has its own owner and there is no need to argue about it.

When I felt a little tired, I would sit down on the chairs built by the roadside and hold their mobile phones to watch videos and play games. Apart from the occasional laughter when I was amused by the messages on my mobile phone, I didn’t even have to think about what to talk about.

What's the problem.

Because no one spoke at all.

Even though he was very playful, he still lacked that sense of joy. Even when he was eating, he couldn't smell the fragrance of oil and water.

When I went out to get the ball, my neighbor saw me and said he hadn't seen me for a long time.

But that's not it.