Living a Nomadic Life, My Heart Belongs to the Grassland

At the crack of dawn, the first rays of sunlight pierced through the gaps of the yurt, gently waking me up. I took a deep breath, the air filled with the fresh scent of grass and earth, and a new day on the grassland began. Stepping out of the yurt, I was greeted by an endless green carpet stretching to the horizon where it met the blue sky. Herds of cattle and sheep dotted the landscape, grazing leisurely, their occasional moos and bleats adding a touch of life to the tranquil grassland. I mounted my beloved pony and galloped freely across the prairie, the wind whistling past my ears, my hair dancing in the breeze, my heart filled with freedom and joy. At noon, Grandma had already prepared delicious hand-pulled mutton in the yurt. The tender mutton was stewed to perfection, melting in my mouth with a rich aroma. Paired with salty milk tea, every bite was a taste of the grassland. In the afternoon, I followed Dad to herd the cattle by the river. The water was so clear that I could see small fish and shrimp swimming freely. The cattle drank contentedly by the riverbank, and I lay on the grass, gazing at the ever-changing clouds in the azure sky, drifting off to sleep. As evening approached, the setting sun painted the grassland in warm orange hues, the sunset ablaze on the horizon. We gathered around the bonfire, the flames illuminating everyone's faces. Dad played the Morin Khuur, its melodious sounds drifting across the grassland. Mom and the girls danced joyfully, and I joined in, our laughter echoing in the night sky. During my days on the grassland, I embraced nature, far from the hustle and bustle of the city, my heart filled with peace and contentment. Every ray of sunlight, every patch of grass, every pastoral song is deeply etched in my memory, becoming the most precious memories of my life.