Random Notes on the Little River

     A group of fish swam happily in their watery world, their home clean and clear. The fish were extremely content. One day, one of their companions, playing in the river, fainted. The mother fish rushed her little fish to the fish hospital. The fish doctor said, "The little fish has been poisoned by drinking unclean water." While receiving an IV drip at the fish hospital, the little fish wondered, "Why was I poisoned? Our home in the water has always been clean and comfortable." The little fish felt helpless, thinking that it would never be able to swim out to play again and would have to stay at home, and it was very unhappy. The mother fish cried out, "Who can give my child back a clean home?" "

    I remember the river in front of my house. Back then, it was teeming with fish and shrimp. You could easily catch several pounds with a fishing net, and those fish and shrimp were big and plump. Especially after rainy days, there were even more fish; you could clearly see them swimming around from the riverbank. In the summer, the river was my paradise. My friends and I would play and splash around in the water. We often washed our hair in the river, taking a spoon and scooping up water to pour over our heads—it was so refreshing! We folded little paper boats and floated them on the river. Watching the clear water as the paper boats drifted gently on the current seemed to carry our childhood dreams far, far away. I also remember the scene every morning when a large group of people were washing clothes in front of my house, and others washing the vegetables they had picked upstream before bringing them back. The river brought me so much joy and provided so much convenience to the people living nearby. In my eyes, the river was like a great..." My mother's quiet dedication never asked for anything in return.

    Over the years, I've witnessed tremendous changes. The once crystal-clear river is gone; what's left? I no longer know. The river has become a garbage dump. More and more people live there, and there's no designated place to put trash. Some inconsiderate people dump their garbage in, and when the river dries up, it emits a nauseating stench, attracting flies frequently. Once, I heard my father mention washing farm tools in the river; afterwards, his hands smelled terrible, saying it smelled like stinking pig manure. My father said someone had built a large pig farm upstream, dumping all the pig manure and urine into the river. I once asked my father why no one cared. He said helplessly, "Who listens to what we ordinary folks say? Those who run large pig farms have powerful people backing them up." I was speechless upon hearing my father's words. The river, once crystal clear, now reeks. Colorful paint, aluminum cans, and piles of waste float on the surface. I never imagined my childhood paradise would turn out like this. Every time I see it, my heart aches again.

    Who can give me back the little river I once knew?