Where are the roots?

Every year, my family will go into a small village, which is in big mountains, on Tomb Sweeping Day. The village is the place where my ancestors lived.

Last year, we went there as usual. When I was kowtowing to my grandfather, my father told me some words that really impressed me. “Maybe this is your last time to come here. Next year you are in a university now. Your elder sisters and brothers have already grown up and gone away, and now it is you. You need to remember that these mountains should never be forgotten. Your ancestors are all here, and your roots are here.” I knew what my father was worried about. With years going by, they become older and older. Then no one will come in the mountains anymore, for children are all far away from home. There is a great chance that we will forget this place after many years. 

I feel sad that this is unavoidable to some degree. This is like a formula of life that children grow up, and then go away. My father spent his childhood in the mountains, and he can tell me everything that happened then. They are all his precious memories. My father really loves these mountains, but he still went away because he must take responsibilities for my mother’s and my life.

I usually think that when something becomes better, something else may become worse. People are pursuing better lives, but along the way, people usually leave behind their roots which are deep in somewhere far away.