Jew - Star Bridge, White Snow on the Shore

3877 feet above sea level

To be honest, I'm scared.

The rattan bridge beneath my feet swayed from side to side like a large hammock. The three bamboo poles tied together to form a floor were slippery from the day's rain. Directly below, the Torn Stream was rushing against the large rocks, creating a foamy spray.

What am I doing here?

The high, steep bank of the stream, connected to the trees on either side, was a rope bridge that curved down into the middle of the river where I was. The ropes on both sides were gathered in the middle here. As a result, the ends of the large bag on my back were caught in the ropes. Then it seemed that I could not move forward.

I don't know if it was the pain, the effort I was exerting to keep my body rigid, or just fear. My legs were shaking.

Looking ahead, I saw huge ropes reaching up to the sky... I had to climb to reach them.

Did I make a mistake coming here?

"Stretch your arms out and push them aside, push your canes aside and walk."

From the other end of the bridge, I could hear the sound of the phoenix's cry. The wind was howling and it was so far away that it was barely audible.

I know how to cross a rattan bridge because I have crossed many suspension bridges.

This type of bridge can only be crossed by one person at a time. The weight of one person can cause the cane ropes to swing high and high. At the beginning of the bridge, the cane ropes were spread out at about the height of my head, about an arm’s length apart, but in the middle of the bridge, the canes came closer to me. So I grabbed the canes on either side with one hand, pushed them apart, took a step when the canes spread out, then stood on both feet and clasped my hands together. I stretched my hands out to the side again, took another step. I knew and had become accustomed to these methods. But now I felt as if I had no strength left to take any further steps. My trembling legs had no strength left, and I thought my hands were gripping the cane rope tightly, but they were so cold that I could not even feel them. That hand could slip away at any moment. The vertical rows of canes between the upper and lower canes are very loose. My own will fall out. I know.

"Boy... don't look down, don't look at the stream, look straight ahead."

Behind me, I heard the voice of U Phiram, who was waiting on the other side to cross the bridge. ' I don't see. But I can't see. I'm being pulled by the stream below me. The foamy water sprays are flying up to several feet high, and it hits my feet coldly. The force of the waves is pulling my feet like air, and I have to work hard to keep my feet steady. If I miss a step, I'll be swept away by the force of the waves. , I feel dizzy and my eyes are turning blue. Can't I reach the other side? "If you want to turn back from here, you can do it."

Until that morning, Fonderam had tried to talk me out of it. | He didn't believe me, he didn't believe I could make it this far. There was a hint of contempt in his eyes. | No way, I had to keep going.

Opposite me, at the foot of the bamboo grove at the top of the bridge, stood Phon Di Ram, waiting. My eyes were wet with rain, so I could only see him vaguely.

That day...until 5:00 PM, it was a normal day with nothing special.

The weather outside is hot. The leaves are falling from the trees. The wind blows only occasionally. But no one can tell whether it is blowing from the east or the north. In Yangon, the wind does not follow its natural course. The tall buildings block it on all sides, and the wind blows wherever there is space.

The weather in my room was good. The power came back on at 2:00 PM, so I turned on the air conditioner in my room. Not only the air conditioner, but also the cassette player was on. Westlife was singing about the queen of his heart.

There is no queen or princess in my heart, so I listen to music and get hungry. When the electricity comes on, I can eat anything. From whatever I have in my house. I can toast bread. I can drink avocado juice. I can drink banana juice. Thinking that it would be good to eat something, I turned off the record player and left the room when I heard someone calling me. It was time for Mom to come home. But Mom had a set of keys.

I walked slowly towards the front of the house. If my mother was struggling with packages and paper bags in her arms, she wouldn't be fumbling around in her handbag for the key. I ran to the door to open it. It wasn't my mother on the other side of the iron door. It was a stranger I had never seen before.

"Is Daw Ngwe Yi Lin there?"

The man was carrying a small black handbag in his hand. He was estimated to be between 40 and 50 years old. Among my friends, there was no man who wore a white long-sleeved shirt with a collar and a black shirt.

"No, there isn't any."

I was holding the key, wondering whether I should open it or not.

"Do you have an appointment, Mom?"

He was holding a doorknob in his hand and looking at me intently.

“I haven’t made an appointment, but I met your mom on the street about a month ago and she said she’s available on Sundays.”

I was a little irritated. I wasn't sure if it was because of the words "Mom..." or because of what Mom said about being there on Sundays. "But now Mom isn't here."

I thought my voice would break a little. He noticed my unwillingness. He smiled slightly. It wasn't a friendly smile. It was the kind of smile that made me realize that I was in a good relationship.

“Ah... the teacher’s name is Kyaw Khaung, and he and your father, Ko Pyi Thein, worked in the same department at the university.”

I should have opened the door to someone who was my father's friend.

"Teacher, can I sit inside and wait?" "Yes."

I opened the door. There were large flower pots planted by my mother in the corner of the courtyard, so we couldn't walk side by side. I walked in front and U Kyaw Khaung walked behind.

"Look... this yam tree is already big."

It seemed that U Kyaw Khaung had been to this house before. He looked at the big golden sycamore tree in amazement and muttered.

"Wow... it's been six years already."

Those words made my heart ache. The word "six years" automatically meant the year my father died.

"Sit down, sir. Mom usually comes home at 5:00."

He sat down in a large round wicker chair. I knew I should sit down facing the guest and greet him. But I am not a good host. ".. So I left the guest with the magazines and decided to go and have a snack in the kitchen. I picked up some magazines from the wall bookshelf and pushed the French ones aside. It was difficult. We don't have many non-French publications in our house. I found some Today magazines, some Air Mandalay magazines, and two or three copies of Thre magazine. I placed the books on the glass-topped wicker table in front of the guest.

"Ko Pyi Thein has only one son."

“Of course.”