Day 65 · Waiting for the River to Thaw

In the afternoon, I went for a walk in the suburbs and saw the river still covered with ice.
It’s not the thick, white, opaque ice, but thin, transparent ice, with water visible underneath. The sunlight shines on it, sparkling like a layer of broken glass.
Squatting down to look, I saw cracks on the ice surface, thin and winding, like rivers on a map. Following the cracks inward, I saw water slowly flowing underneath—calm, unhurried, knowing that spring will come.
It reminded me of childhood back home, when the river froze in winter and children played on it. Adults warned us to be careful not to fall in. We said it was fine, it was solidly frozen. Later, in spring, the ice started melting from the middle, melting a little each day, and then suddenly, the whole river came alive and flowed loudly.
No one remembers exactly when the ice completely melted. Only that one day, passing by, they heard the sound of water.
During the freezing times, it’s like a frozen river.
Watching the numbers on the account stay still, I thought the market was dead. But it’s not. The water is still flowing underneath, the funds are slowly gathering in some corner, just you can’t see it. One day, when the temperature is high enough, it will melt on its own.
It doesn’t melt all at once. Today a little melts, tomorrow a little more. When you’re not paying attention, it suddenly all melts away.