Swallows outside the window

 　　After returning from a business trip, I found a pair of swallows at my window, chirping and twittering in their nest, as affectionate as a newlywed couple.

　　I opened the window and smiled at the two pretty little creatures. I thought to myself, "Little ones, coming to my territory without even saying hello! How unfriendly!" At first, they didn't react. Perhaps the sound of my opening the window startled the swallows from their lovemaking, for they fluttered in alarm to the nearby pine tree, flitting from branch to branch, watching me warily, chirping incessantly. I couldn't tell if they were greeting me warmly or plotting how to deal with this strange intruder. Seeing my indifference, one of them even landed provocatively on the windowsill above my head, like a note singing a song of early spring sunshine. I shushed it and gently waved my hand. It darted back to the branch, staring at me with alarm. Its focused expression seemed to be a playful jab: "I won't eat your rice, I won't drink your water, I just want to stay under your eaves—you're being too stingy!" Looking at its clever and adorable appearance, I couldn't help but laugh. Perhaps my laughter sent them a friendly signal, or perhaps they wanted to test my sincerity again, because they both flew to the window frame closer to me, occasionally tapping the glass with their scissor-like tails in a challenge. I tried to catch them, but like the mischievous little boy downstairs, they giggled and darted away.

　　After a week of getting to know each other, slowly, I became friends with the swallows. Every morning as soon as I get to work, the first thing I do is open the window and say to these two adorable little sprites, "Good morning, my little friends!" The swallows seem to understand me, flitting about joyfully, their beautiful feathers fluttering, chirping incessantly, as affectionate as a family reunion. I can almost hear them playfully replying, "Good morning, old lad!" Whenever I'm tired of struggling with words or have run out of ideas and can't find a place to write, I'll stand by the window with a teacup in hand, leisurely watching these two little creatures, their black plumage, their streamlined bodies, sometimes singing, sometimes dancing—they're so adorable. They say swallows have a spirit, so I try to communicate with them from the heart. They seem to understand my troubles, sympathize with my helplessness, flitting back and forth by the window, their graceful dances and sweet songs repeatedly awakening my thoughts and sparking my inspiration. When they saw me return to my seat and concentrate on typing, they quietly landed on the branches and gazed at me, afraid that their slightest noise would interrupt my train of thought. Seeing their understanding nature, I offered them a silent smile. Whenever I was overwhelmed by trivial matters or feeling down and irritable, they would fly to my window, either gazing at me affectionately or gently kissing the glass outside, as if comforting me: "Life is not just about the present hardships, but also about poetry and distant places! Getting angry at others only hurts your own spirit, why bother?" At this moment, I would look up at the bright sunshine outside the window, and the gloom that had been weighing on my heart would instantly dissipate. In my spare time, I would place the speakers by the window and play cheerful songs downloaded from my computer: "Little swallows wear flowery clothes, coming here every spring..." Watching them happily hop around to the melodious tune, I would seize the opportunity to capture their every agile and adorable moment, then fill my photo album with them. Every day when I get home from work, I greet the swallows with a "Goodbye, little friends!" Hearing the "bang" of the window closing, they flutter their wings and chirp incessantly, as if reminding me, "Be careful on the road, take care of yourself!" At that moment, all my fatigue instantly dissipates, and I feel much more relaxed and comfortable.

　　The swallows outside my window bring me endless joy; they seem to have become my other half, frequently appearing in my mind. When I'm out, I always worry about whether the wasps on the neighbor's window will bully them, or whether the stray cat in the yard will covet their offspring. At home, whenever I have free time, I open my phone's photo album and admire the swallows' graceful figures. I feel as if they are flying around right in front of me, pouring out their untold secrets. They even often fly into my dreams, sometimes flitting and playing low before my eyes, sometimes chirping joyfully, sometimes circling me with gentle arms, sometimes guarding my heart, sometimes carrying a few warm and fragrant peach petals to scatter on my face, waking me from a night of longing.

　　Swallows before my window, your graceful dance, your murmuring whispers, and your beautiful legends have become an eternal memory in my life. Will you come to my window again next year?