Original title: Xia Fei: The Color of Life
Author: Xia Fei, Class 7, Class 2021, Chengdu Foreign Language School
“Crack”, the shuttlecock fell diagonally from the sky like a white dove with broken wings. I pick it up. The top is already covered with black spots, smudged from the center of the image. Due to the long-term tossing and turning between the badminton rackets, the feather tail has become yellow and fluffy, and even lost a few tail feathers and drooped aside.
I stared at the dust-covered badminton shuttlecock, which was slightly gray, and a sentence sounded in my head: Is it still white? My mind suddenly returned to the month before I started playing badminton. Although it was just the beginning, I actually learned badminton for a while when I was in elementary school, but I gave up later because of my busy schoolwork.
At that time, the badminton I just got was brand new like a fragile white paper. Each tail feather stretched straight, smooth feathers tightly packed at a uniform angle. I threw it and caught it quickly, afraid of accidentally breaking one of its tail feathers.
The father on the opposite side moved his limbs and beckoned me to serve. I took a deep breath and shook my hands, as if there were countless burdens on me. I tossed the ball again.
I grabbed one of the tail feathers of the badminton with my left hand and threw it upwards, while the other hand slid into the air, and with a hard twist of my wrist, I turned the badminton racket and threw the ball hard. “His”, the air seemed to be pulled open, and the badminton racket tore the air along the opening. The badminton was caught by my father firmly and flew towards me very quickly. I held my head up, my hands dropped in the air, and then I struggled again, and the badminton dunked on the ground. The air cracked again.
I swung the badminton racket and felt the power of the wrist concentrated on one point at that moment. The sound of tearing the air gave me a lot of fun. Like a moment of relaxation, I stared at the white shuttlecock and smiled. I seem to understand why my father asked me to play badminton after the monthly exam.
Dad picked up the badminton and said, “Does it feel better? I told you that sitting all day long and studying people will become monotonous. Move more.” The badminton was thrown high by Dad, like a white dove with wings flying towards the blue sky, swooping down toward me.
Since then, I have been playing badminton with my dad every week to relieve me from the monotonous academic stress. The shuttlecock landed on the grass, fell on the treetops, and even accidentally landed in the wet pool again.
But every time, as long as I waved my badminton racket, the badminton rides the sound of the cracked silk in the air, making waves in the air, I will remember the day when the badminton flew to me like a white dove, as if it passed through the blue sky. The sky, flying over the fiery red sun, floating over the green lawn. Just as I have experienced the gap of changing classes, the pressure of going to school, and the joy of working hard.
Yes, badminton is no longer white, because the color of life has long been reflected on my face and colorful.
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