The spring rain defied the weather forecast once again, so it did not befall the 91 juveniles on their way to the adult ceremony on April 23. This was an early departure at half past six and everybody showed up on time. The scenery along the highway was blurred by vapor under the overcast sky, but not the fancy morning mist and glow. Then what was blurring our future?
Of course, the impending English provincial exam and decisions on conditional offers! Within the confined space, however, the monotonous rhythm of the bus engine soon replaced the gabble mainly over those two topics. Heading towards the neighboring Wuxi, most of us fell asleep soundly.
A mixture of unpleasant and fragrant smells woke me up. The gowns for graduation were unsealed, as well as make-up brought by the girls. Those smells were dispersed by a gust of humid wind as we strode into the Memorial Museum for Wang Xuan, the great academic of computer text information processing, our old alumni of Nanyang Model Private High School. Principle Gao made a lecture about learning the spirit of this celebrity. Ms. Block delivered words of wisdom and blessing. After the national anthem and the school song, the cap toss was not as what we expected, because of the mild aftermath caused by the falling brim of caps. Such a candid photo rejuvenated us by natural expressions, rather than fixed smiles. Timeless moments of beauty were etched in the digital storage, in our minds. Behind the dull, greyish plaster and the courtyard paved with blue stones witnessed decades of exhilarating ceremony, we were exalted in the scene of the sun blotted out by heavy clouds. Environment and atmosphere? That was one of the most inessential applause or hisses during the opera of the youth. Nothing could cramp the performers’ style.
After having a delicious slice of cake sprinkled with crushed dry strawberries, our last destination was the Turtle Head Isle by Taihu Lake. Mirrored by the color of sunless sky, mists and waves stretched far into the distance as our ship proceeded. The grade 12 students scattered into small groups which merged into the throng of tourists. In some corners of the park, each sought for their own spot of joy to relish merely less than an hour’s freedom.
An hour later, we were back to the bus, not with a renewed or advanced version of ourselves so soon, but an exhausted one. The dreary weather had yet not relented. Only the driver was free of drowsiness. What is behind the layers of clouds? The tempest, the drizzle, the sunshine, the snow or any unpredictable weather. What will occur after their sound sleep?
It is our time of unlimited possibilities now.