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eternal

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    ?

    In Moments, I saw photos of my grandparents.  There are mixed feelings in my heart, and I have mixed feelings.

    I haven't seen them for many years.  Their old faces aroused my lovesickness.  Blood rushes to the brain involuntarily.

    My loved ones.

    Time will not run backwards.  I can't go back to being 19 years old.

    It is also impossible to return to them immediately.

    Although grandparents have serious patriarchal tendencies.  Time has worn away my grievances towards them, and replaced them with family affection with blood thicker than water.

    I grew up around them.  My name is from my grandfather.  Although until now I still brood on the prosaicness of bearing the name.  Maybe when my mother gave birth to me, because it was a girl, my grandfather named me casually.  And this name will be with me for the rest of my life.

    Grandpa has four sons and one daughter.  I have many cousins.

    And I have a teenage difference from my youngest cousin.

    When I was a child, I was sick and sick.  The worst time I almost died was because my grandfather didn't give up and guarded my gradually cold body.

    Grandpa has a bad temper.  Talk loudly.  There are many memories I have forgotten.

    I forgot many people and many things.

    In that ordinary small village.  I had a happy childhood and a rebellious adolescence.

    After becoming an adult, parting is always staged silently.

    Every time I talk to my mother on the phone, I am afraid of hearing about parting and death.  My neighbors, my cousinand my classmate's motherthey died of old age or some kind of disease.  The characters who were once vivid in my memory were caught off guard when they left.

    Withered grass grows over the lonely grave.  Sad people are buried in desolate cemeteries.

    Back then, I was high-spirited, young and frivolous, and proud and complacent.  Full of infinite yearning for the future.  Running around for half my life, still have nothing.  Fortunately, I remember the way I came here, and I didn't escape too far.

    No matter where I go.  My roots are still there.

    The fertile land there nourishes me.  Watering my growth.  My love and hate, disappointment and loneliness, silent happiness and sorrow.

    My family is not rich, perhaps it is this environment that has tempered my will.  I have known since childhood that only knowledge can change destiny.  But I didn't go the way my parents envisioned for me.

    I wasted until I was 30 years old.  Obscurity.  Forgot the dialect of my hometown, like a wild grass swaying in the vast world.

    I chase the temperature of light, the beauty of the world.  Leave the evil of human nature behind, never change your original intention, and stick to justice and kindness.

    Many years later, in what form will I return to my hometown.  Still penniless?  Still doing nothing?

    Maybe I really have a little ambition.  Inflated vanity.

    I want to blaze a trail and use my own strength.  But the power is so weak.

    I will miss my childhood.  Grabbing snacks with my brother, I always cut his face with my nails.  He always calls me savage.  Ask my parents to give me to someone else.

    My brother is two years older than me.  But he doesn't like playing with me.  He has his own playmates.

    We quarrel all the time.  For a certain unfair treatment by parents.

    Arguing over watching TV.

    Fight over new toys, snacks

    Every time we quarrel, he can't beat me.  In addition, I am the youngest in my family, and my parents protect me.  His defense seemed weak.  He just stood there and stared at me fiercely.

    My brother can cook at the age of eight.  I still remember that because of his height, he couldn't reach the stove at home and stepped on the stool with both feet.  Not afraid of heights at all, shaking his body and cooking with kitchen utensils.

    Because my mother has to be busy with the harvest in the field.  There is no food at home.  My brother had to learn how to cook, otherwise he and I would have to be hungry for a while.

    I didn't learn how to cook before the age of 19, maybe it's because of relying on my brother.  The meals he cooks are delicious.  I have eaten it for many years.

    Three years ago, he drove me to Wuxi.  There was a heavy snowfall and the highway was closed, so he had to take the national highway.  When we arrived in Wuxi, it was already three o'clock in the morning.

    The shops on the street are closed.

    I know he is tired.  So I made egg fried rice on my own initiative.  He only took a bite, then poured the egg fried rice in the bowl into the pot, and then took it downstairs and dumped it into the trash can together.

    "Let me do it," he said.

    I know he dislikes my cooking skills.  I can't even cook noodles, how can I make a delicious meal all at once.

    But eventually I learned how to cook.  Although it is not as complete as the ones in restaurants, it does not make people want to vomit after one bite.

      Circumstances can change a person.  Probably before my life was at ease.  My brother and parents are always thinking of me.  They always stand in front of me and shield me from the wind and rain of the years.  When I left their shelter, I had to learn to fly by myself.

    My brother and I grew up noisy all the way.  But I know he loves me very much.  Five years ago, my elder brother, who was already a father, went to pick me up at the station. When he saw me for the first time, he cried.

    I will always remember that scene.

    The remnant snow has not completely melted, and there are puddles and puddles on the ground.  He and his father waited for three hours in the cold wind.  I was carrying a suitcase, and the Spring Festival was approaching, and there were many pedestrians going home.  I was overwhelmed by the turbulent crowd, but my brother still saw me at a glance.  I wasn't there when he got married.  I was in Shanghai at that time, and I should have gone home to attend. I did not witness the most special day in his life.

    There are many things that I just missed silently.

    My parents are both honest and responsible people.

    Dad taught me what responsibility is.

    My mother taught me what love is.

    My brother taught me to grow up.

    Grandparents taught me to understand and tolerate.

    I always remember that no matter how far I go, I will not forget my original intention.

    My original place, my roots, has always been there.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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