Graduate's Speaking of BeiJing

       Three years, thirty six months, over a thousand days. As to a hundred years of our life, three years are probably short like a flash of light, or, however, long like a lifelong memory. It is like a tiny yellow flower on the boundless land, too slight to be noticed, too ignorable, yet brilliant when showing the supreme beauty of life.
Three years, thirty six months, over a thousand days. What a tiny yellow flower is this! We can still remember the time when we, still naive children of fifteen or sixteen, first came into this school, with all the excitement and nervousness intermingled in our heart, and when we stood on the sports field in the autumn opening ceremony, where fragrance of maples pervaded in the air. On that day, the speech full of anticipation from Andy Truong, the executive director, sowed small seeds inside our heart. Then the time of three years flies. The sweat of efforts is the water to our seeds, the hardworking of learning the soil, and the loving environment from teachers and students the sunlight for warmth and hope. In this way three years have passed by, an intersection of our destiny. Intersecting in Beijing Concord College of Sino-Canada, intersecting in this warm house of hope, our seeds bloomed into flowers, into clusters of yellow, quivering in the breeze, pouring out their dreams about future.
       And yes, today, there are yellow flowers all over the field, as splendid as a stirring piece of symphony. Three hundred students, each with dreams of ten-odd years, and dreams about tens of years, what a great fortune of dreams is this, what a subliming ocean of dreams is this!
      This is the ending of an interval of our lives. Three years of harsh wind, burning sunshine, heavy rain and lightening, with sometimes a sudden glow of wintriness freezing all the planes, or a long time of drought without a drop of water. Three years of pains transforming from chrysalises to butterfly; of perseverance and faith to burst a bud out of the ground. They rubbed the childishness off our faces, and chastened them with maturity and responsibility. Three years of knowing each other, living with each other, learning each other and accompanying each other, with the drama of our youth shown on the stage, and the foot-sprint of happiness left in The World Flowers Garden. Three years of companionship between teachers and students as if in a single day; of friendship between us students for a whole life. They will condense into gold in our memory, and then melt into an endless river flowing with our future journey.
       This is, on the other hand, the beginning of an interval of our life. We have put on the outfit of courage and aggressiveness, and have packed the knowledge and thought into our bags, with constant visions looking across the road – mysterious road of future, exciting road of adventure. It may lead us to a gallant palace, or an inhabitable barren. What awaits in front of us may be the all loving breath of nature in mountains, silent fragrance deep in a florid garden, broken tears in dark realm of quietness, or a big roar of final struggling at the edge of a cliff. Whatever, we are ready. We have prepared for three years the water and foods for thirty years. We shall create the legends of our own with our remorseless youth. These legends shall start for now on.
       Three years, thirty six months, over a thousand days. When we finish our legends, stop our hasty steps for a rest, we will look back at these three years, this tiny yellow flower. We will look back at its tender brightness, its glories in the past. All of a sudden, we shall be moved, wiping tears in our eyes. We shall appreciate a truth so important. This is a tiny yellow flower on the boundless land, too slight to be noticed, too ignorable, yet brilliant when showing the supreme beauty of life.