The Sixtieth Day · That Tree

The tree downstairs, I've watched it for sixty days.
When I first moved here, it was bare, its branches reaching up to the sky, as if asking a question. I didn't pay attention, hurried past with my suitcase, rushing to sign my first contract.
Later, I passed by every day, sometimes glancing up, sometimes not. When I looked, I felt it hadn't changed much; when I didn't, I felt like it had secretly grown a little.
Until today — the sixtieth day.
Tiny new buds appeared on the branches, yellow-green, small, like newly opened eyes. One, two, three, countless. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting fragmented light spots on the ground.
It turns out it has been growing all along. I just didn't notice.
In these sixty days, I have also been growing.
From staring at the K-line without daring to blink, to learning to look up occasionally;
From fearing to miss every fluctuation, to accepting that missing out isn't a big deal;
From dreaming about rises and falls, to falling asleep even with the phone turned off.
Growth is slow, like this tree. A little each day, unnoticed by myself.
Slow down, and you'll see the tree sprouting;
Slow down, and you'll hear the sound of the wind;
Slow down, and you'll realize some things can't be rushed.
Sixty days, and the tree has turned green.
I'm still growing too. #成长值抽奖赢金条