When we were still girls, Zhang Bao translated 2018.7.24

When I was a little girl, my family lived on the banks of the Tennessee River, where summer was beautiful and fun. We run wild in the endless wet summer days, as if we are melting into one different day after another. We drifted down the river on weekdays, leaving school, rules, parents, and fantasies aside. My sister and I are both very obedient and good girls who never let our parents worry and get angry. And this long summer belongs to us, which gives us a wonderful desire for life.

A one-lane country road passes in front of our house. Every morning, when my parents leave home from work, I wait

The female postman came to our mailbox to drop off the mail. Some days, I'll exchange some stamps for a mason jar to put in a letterbox. I don't want to bother the postwoman with this kind of deal, because it will cost her more time. But I'd love to let her know that someone in our family is sending letters outside.

I like to walk barefoot in front of the mailbox and leave footprints on the dewy grass. I imagined that the feeling of wetness on the soles of my feet made me a poet. I had never read any poems other than some of Emily Dickinson's works. But I imagine that those who know these things will also walk barefoot in front of their mailboxes.

We planned our wedding with the help of Barbie and our yard was planted with many purple wildflowers. We thought of ourselves as scientists, testing mixtures of milk, orange juice and mouthwash. We ate a large handful of bitter chocolate chips and licked the peanut butter off the spoon. When we finished our sweets, we stole the sugary flint vitamins from the medicine cabinet. We were again hosts of a kraft macaroni and cheese lunch. We would call my mother, who was at work, three times a day and tell her about our adventures. But the phone should not be too loud and the voice should not be too loud, otherwise, the people in the company will complain and the boss will fire the mother. And just like that, the whole summer will soon be over.

Away from the prying eyes of adults, we organize our lives the way we choose. We found the playboys that Dad had bought and asked the neighborhood boys to pay to borrow them. We made a call in the county and told people they had a new car. They'll ask, "What kind?" and we say, "red." "We put on our mom's old prom dresses with gloves and hats, which we found on Dad's turntable. McCall song escort team singing.

We hiked in the woods behind the house, crawled under the barbed wire fence and through the tangled bush. The leaves emit heat and dampness on our flushed faces. Every time we would come across a stream by accident, we would have to wade through the water. We walked past the cars and car parts that had been abandoned in the woods far from the road. We would walk out of the forest and unexpectedly into a dairy farm. We'd also climb on the gate, or on the huge lime rock, which was the end of the woods behind our house.

One day, after a thunderstorm over the Tennessee River, the storm turned the day into night, and the warm humidity gradually disappeared. At first, the sky was quiet, but there was electricity in the air, and the summer air seemed to be blown away by a cold wind. We left all the doors and windows open. At this time, we heard the sound of classic music coming from the radio stations of two small towns, and we let the wind blow in and let it stir our summer days wantonly. We let the familiar music roar in the house. We spin together, in the living room with the wind, with the music. As we twirled, we imagined that we were poets, dancers, scientists, and brides of spring.

We whirled, imagining if we could get all the world, thunder, storms, wind, and the world into that house on the banks of the Tennessee River. That way, we can live forever in our summer dreams.

When we were girls.