Childhood memories under the Chinese wingnut tree are still unforgettable

About the author: A submission from a student of Class 4, Grade 6, Hangzhou Xuejun Primary School

A tiny Chinese wingnut leaf spins down and falls into the soil. My primary school years are also gradually fading away; in a few more days, they will, like this Chinese wingnut leaf, be forever buried.

The thick trunk always gives me a solid sense of security, the emerald-green leaves always give me a comfortable feeling brimming with vitality, and the slender, supple branches always give me a warm sense of happiness - six years with you, Chinese wingnut tree!

My crying, my laughing, my quarreling, my romping - the Chinese wingnut tree always listens kindly. Whenever it rains and it happens to be PE class, everyone loves to crowd around the Chinese wingnut tree and refuses to go inside no matter what. I would run under the tree too, squeezing in with everyone. We never got bored under the tree; just those necklace-like strings of fruit brought endless joy. Taller classmates would jump up, break off strings of tender shoots, share them with the classmates around them, and then jump up again. A whole circle of people would be jumping around this tree - seen from the building above, it was quite a sight.

Holding a caterpillar-like string of Chinese wingnut fruit in your hand, you cannot describe how joyful it feels. Just gently swinging it left and right like this sends a rush of delight straight to your head. But this was not the most satisfying part. Hold the tip of the Chinese wingnut fruit string with one hand, and with the other hand strip downward from top to bottom with moderate force - in less than half a second, no matter how long the string, only a bare green stem would be left. At this point, almost no one would stop after playing with just one string; everyone would try hard to get another. So the teachers racked their brains and broke fruit strings off the Chinese wingnut trees everywhere to reward students who performed well. On ordinary days, the classmates always joked about this Chinese wingnut tree: wherever there are lots of strings, there are teachers!

During breaks, the Chinese wingnut tree was tightly surrounded; below were leaping figures, and even upstairs in the teaching building, classmates carefully stretched to reach. Those figures are an impression from my six years that I cannot shake off. And I do not know when it started, but I fell in love with rainy days, and fell in love with PE class on rainy days.

Primary school is only six years, but the Chinese wingnut tree is forever in my heart. A withered yellow Chinese wingnut leaf is pressed in my diary; I cannot bear to throw it away, because behind this leaf are the laughter and joyful voices of me and everyone in days gone by. When will I be able to have, have again, still have the Chinese wingnut tree?

The Chinese wingnut leaves are still quietly falling, but the Chinese wingnut tree in my heart never sheds its leaves.

Author: Class 4, Grade 6, Hangzhou Xuejun Primary School, a classmate who wishes to remain anonymous

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