On the road, I saw an old man with a hunchback hobbling , It was the same with grandma when she was older , Walking on the road, shaking , Now the man can no longer see or touch , Three or four years passed like this .
Flowers are like stars , Like my missing .
From the moment I remember , I don't think grandma has changed much , It's just a little fat and a little thin , Blush, moisten and pale . She has a lot of black hair , Only a few white hairs were hidden in the bottom , You can't see it without a scratch , The years seem to be especially fond of her . But who has been spared by years ？ I see her back getting more and more humped , Sometimes I see her combing her hair , Holding the broken hair in my hand , Tell me that my hair is losing more and more , Old and old , I have a sour nose , I know she's really getting old .
Grandma's cooking is good , I remember her cooking habits now , Whether it's potatoes, melons, radishes or cabbage , Always cut vegetables into small pieces , It's very even , Feast for the eyes , There was no such thing as a wire planer at home at that time , Grandmother can cut vegetables so finely , I think it's very attentive ！ There's not much oil for cooking , But I always feel that after my grandmother's hand , The dishes are delicious but not greasy , Just right . When grandma was cooking , I'm just waiting outside the door , Waiting for her to tell me to eat .
Thoughts gather into clouds , I can't help thinking about a rain .
What impresses me most is one summer , Grandma said she would try to make bean paste , Bought all kinds of food , I started working myself . summer , The kitchen is sultry , Grandma was in the kitchen for a while , If you can't stand it, just come out and cool off , And then go on with the work , That afternoon, that kitchen door , I don't know how many times she went in and out , Every time I see her coming out of the kitchen , With sweat on his face . The bean paste is ready , Did a lot of , For a long time , Every time my mother ate, she would say to me — The bean paste made by your grandmother is delicious , It's better than the ones you sell , I replied that of course ！
There is a daughter-in-law married from her grandmother's village nearby , My grandmother embroidered well , Many of her people went to her for advice . Hours , I always like to stay with my grandmother , Look at her painting quietly , Draw some patterns , Look at her quiet embroidery , a single needle or a piece of thread , Embroider a flower, a bird, a grass , I also draw two strokes from time to time , It happened that the neighbors came to visit , I yelled that the teacher was teaching the students ！ My mother said that my grandmother had done a lot of work and suffered a lot when she was young , This includes embroidery , As time goes by, the orifices are opened , I admire and love my grandmother .
The scattered petals can't make your embroidery .
Grandma can tell stories , Actual , A false , Warm , fearsome , I heard a lot from her . In spring and rain , Grandmother would sit under the eaves in front of the court and tell me , The sound of story telling and the sound of rain are together ; In summer , Grandmother sat down in the Wutong tree under the courtyard to tell me , It's quiet , Grandmother's voice was low but clear ; In autumn , Grandma would tell me while tearing corn , The corn cob went into the basket with a bang , The story after story is finished ; In winter , Grandmother sat by the fire and told me , The fire in the stove is so warm , I was roasted to sleep . occasionally , I also tell the story to others .
Now? , No more delicious food like that , That delicious bean paste , No one taught me to draw a few strokes and tell me two stories , Things about grandma are getting fuzzy , What's fuzzy is her voice and smile , But it's becoming clear that I miss her .
May your world be full of favorite flowers .