 The person who embroidered me was a skilled craftswoman from the village. She would leave for the fields at dawn and return home when the evening sunlight bathed the banks of the Qing River. Upon returning, she would change from her mud-stained clothes, pull up a small wooden stool, and take out an old book filled with various colorful threads. She carefully selected the threads she desired, untangled them, and threaded them through her needle. Under the flickering candlelight, the soft strains of ancient songs began to fill the air. These melodies were the most beautiful tunes in my memory. Yes, she was not only a skilled embroiderer but also a knowledgeable singer. With a voice as clear as spring water, she would recount the origins of all life from thousands of years ago. I would always nestle beside her knees, quietly admiring each stitch she made, which eventually converged into vivid and lifelike patterns that bloomed with unique brilliance on me. At the center of all the patterns, the butterfly dancing gracefully, I believe, is none other than the Butterfly Mother that she sang of so many times in her songs. Mother of all creation, I implore you with love and wisdom, to protect all life on earth, ensuring its endless continuation.  |
