My mother and I were still wearing our white mourning clothes.
It was bitterly cold that day.
And once again, I saw the crescent moon in the sky.
My mother took me out of the city to visit my father’s grave.
She carried a small stack of paper money in her hand.
It was light enough to carry with ease, yet somehow it seemed to weigh heavily on both of us.
That day, my mother was unusually gentle with me.
I was too young to walk such a long distance, so she carried me on her back for most of the journey.
When we reached the city gate, she even bought me a small bag of roasted chestnuts.
Everything around us was cold.
The wind cut through my clothes.
The streets were empty.
The air was freezing.
But the chestnuts were warm.
I didn’t want to eat them.
Instead, I held the bag tightly between my hands, trying to keep my frozen fingers warm.
I don’t remember how far we walked.
I only remember that the road seemed endless.
When my father was buried, I hadn’t noticed how long the journey was.
There had been so many people around us that day.
The noise and activity had made the distance seem shorter.
Today was different.
There was only my mother and me.
She didn’t say a word.
I didn’t feel like talking either.
The road stretched endlessly through the barren countryside.
There was almost no sound anywhere.
The silence made me uneasy.
Winter days were short.
Before long, we reached my father’s grave.
It was nothing more than a small mound of earth standing alone in the middle of the empty land.
A few larger hills rose in the distance.
The setting sun hung low above them, casting a weak yellow light over the cold, deserted landscape.
My mother had completely forgotten about me by then.
She gently moved me aside and collapsed beside my father’s grave.
Then she began to cry.
I sat quietly on the ground beside the grave.
I played with the few roasted chestnuts I had left, listening to my mother cry.
I didn’t know what else to do.
After a long time, she finally stood up.
She took out the paper money she had brought and began burning it piece by piece.
The ashes rose into the air.
A weak breeze caught them and sent them spinning in front of my eyes before they slowly settled onto the cold earth.
The wind wasn’t strong, but the cold was.
It cut straight through me.
Then my mother started crying again.
I missed my father too.
But I couldn’t cry.
Watching my mother break down like that hurt me more than I could explain.
My eyes filled with tears.
I reached out and grabbed the edge of her clothes.
“Mom, please don’t cry.”
“Please.”
My words didn’t comfort her.
Instead, she cried even harder.
She suddenly pulled me into her arms and held me tightly.
It felt as if I was the only thing she had left.
The sun continued to sink.
The sky grew darker and darker.
There wasn’t another person anywhere in the cemetery.
From beginning to end, it was just the two of us.
I could feel how frightened my mother had become.
Her eyes were full of tears.
She quickly took my hand and pulled me to my feet.
“We have to go,” she said.
She turned around and hurried back toward the city.
After we had gone a long way, she suddenly stopped and looked back.
I turned around too.
My father’s little grave had already become difficult to see.
Below the hills, countless small mounds of earth covered the ground.
They stood close together, one after another, stretching all the way to the foot of the hills.
My mother let out a long, tired sigh.
Then we hurried on.
Neither of us dared to stop.
But before we reached the city gate, darkness had completely fallen.
That was when I saw the crescent moon again.
The whole sky was black.
The world around us was silent.
Only that thin crescent remained in the distance, giving off a faint, cold light.
It hung above the dark earth as if it were quietly watching us.
By then, I was exhausted.
My legs felt weak, and I could barely keep walking.
My mother saw how tired I was.
Without saying anything, she bent down and picked me up.
I don’t remember much about the rest of the journey.
Most of it is only a blur now.
I remember being carried through the darkness.
I remember the cold night air.
And I remember looking up at the black sky.
That cold crescent moon was still there.
It followed us silently all the way home.