As I entered the room, soft sunlight shone onto the painting, penetrating the curtains. It was an imitation of Van Gogh's Sunflower. I stood still and stared at it for a while, confused and perplexed by how he depicted the flowers under the scorching sun so enthusiastically, considering his penniless and frustrated life. Mother said that sunflowers blossom in the direction of the sun, giving them enough power to prop up life in any state. More confused than ever, I had embarked on a journey of contemplation. Eventually, I found the answer when I met "him".
When I was back in China, I often spent my summer at my grandmother's, near the countryside of Beijing. Wandering in the barley fields, I'd always see a boy- a boy about my age, around 9. He ran in the fields with a glass jar in his hand, his shirt fluttering in the wind. From my observation, I thought he was trying to catch grasshoppers. But I was proven wrong when he stopped to catch his breath while covering up the opening of the jar as if there was something inside, trying to escape. However, the odd thing was that nothing was inside. I looked at him with a mystified look. "I was trying to catch the sun" he grinned and quickly ran away. His action left me interested. I thought maybe it was what peasant children do for fun; after all, there wasn't much entertainment in the countryside. After a few days, I encountered him again. This time, he invited me to his house. As I entered the small, crowded room, the boy began pouring water into a wash basin from a great distance. I saw a great passion in his eyes, proud as if he was showing his skill. Right beside, there lay an elder who I supposed was his grandmother. I couldn't help but noticing the wild, earthy fragrance coming from the wild flowers in the vase as well as the empty glass jar beside it sitting on the stool by her bed. It was the same jar that the little boy was holding in the field. Still, it remained an enigma to me until later in the month, when I heard that his grandmother was paralytic. The doctor suggested that sunshine would help improve her condition, but unfortunately, she was unable to get up from her bed. Therefore, the little boy would go out every day to squeeze in as much sunshine as he could into the jar when the sun is strongest and highest up above. "I put it beside her bed every day," he said fervently as if he had found the world's greatest invention. For a wonder, despite having an ill elder in bed throughout the year, the room did not smell putrid or rotten as one would think it should. Rather, it had a bright and vivid tone. "Was it because of the sun jar?" I thought to myself. Later, it came to my knowledge that while the boy's mother suffered dementia along with his father, unemployed, looking after her, his sister who was only two years older became the backbone to support the family. Without knowing his background, I would have thought that he had a fortunate destiny based on his hopeful outlook in life. However, he was still able to keep his vibrant laughter and sincere wishes. Every time I left when summer ended, I always looked forward to meet him again next summer. Eventually, he disappeared from my world, forever. I wonder until today, whether he is still trying to catch the sun in his sun jar somewhere over the fields.
I saw something in the boy, a quality not found in me before, the quality of happiness and hopefulness. As Mother would always say, "Do not depend on one's appearance for it can deceive. Do not depend on wealth for it fades away. But do depend on someone who makes you smile, because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright." Therefore, I have found the ultimate answer to my deepest meditation yet, that "the happiest people do not necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. Happiness waits for those who have cried, those who have been hurt, those who have searched, and those who have tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives."
