The dust is like the first sunset.
The ancient sword of the Red Cliff is shallow.
The evening glow sees the spring rain like frost.
The mood is like clouds and smoke.
My grandmother's influence on my life is huge. My grandmother was born in a large family in Shanghai.
In 1937, there was a war in Shanghai, and the whole country was the same. Her fate changed.
The wind blows and the flowers are scattered, just like you and my confused soul scattered between the lines.
Like all Chinese people, my grandmother and family were separated, and people in their 20s did not know which direction to go. They met the most lonely back in the vast sea of people and wandered at the crossroads in a trance.
The sustenance and life that can't see their own hope is a wordless book. Reading a line, time is faint, and a season in the eyes are red one after another. Turning over a page, the years are warm, and a cup of warm tea in the palm of your hand is full of water.
She arrived at Xiangshan and met my grandfather and a lucky boy. The story began like this. Maybe this era has caused a lot of regrets.
Grandma was born in a large family and has a good higher education, the educational philosophy of Western women, and so on.
In a small place, her life was buried. What a desolate thing. My grandmother's life is unfortunate. The misfortune of the times, the misfortune of the family, the misfortune of the country,
Spending the so-called life in hardships and setbacks, giving up love, career, etc., nostalgic family members, buried the talent of a lifetime, and the source of love, looking here, this noisy and impetuous heart has flown through the sea and mulberry fields.The inner voice is always unclear whether it melts when the snowflakes fall or the faint fragrance.
The traces in the depths of my heart are the tears of sadness or the water of melting snowflakes.
From my memory, grandma, calm and calm, his soul was deeply lost by the drizzle of spring, and he recalled the flavors of life bit by bit.
She was just alive and married her grandfather. We were together for less than ten years. In the autumn of that year, it was a barren year and there was no food to eat. Grandpa ran to the mountains in the afternoon to do farm work. The weather was too hot and had no resistance, which eventually led to death. My father was only nine years old. My grandmother was ruthlessly hit by life.
My grandmother, with her nine-year-old son, has been calmly carrying a home, some love, just the scenery, some people, just passers-by. I have always believed that as long as love does not wither, there will be ripples in the eyes. As long as the love is still the same, butterflies will fly out of my heart. However, when the moment of dizziness, everything becomes a retreating scenery and no longer overlaps with the eyes.I can't describe it in words and words. Her life can only be described as a strong face and brave to overcome difficulties. My father is a filial son and will never go against her will, including me.
In the autumn of 1973, a child gave it to my grandmother, that is me. In my impression, my grandmother is as beautiful as an angel. So far, I have never seen a beautiful woman like my grandmother. Her temperament: elegant, noble, cold, feminine, elegant, decent and individual.
I am the one who was brought up by my grandmother, and my life has been influenced by the earth. What a fragile soul a child who has lost his mother's love is. You are my acacia, with the wind and dust of the halberd and sand, eating the bones and a calm life.
You are the full moon in my heart. In the silent years, you are mean to the years, how to teach me, how to be a person, to do things, everything I have her shadow.
When I was five years old, I was taught to read, teach me how to be a man, the responsibility of being a man, the feelings of being a man, the value of a person, how to be grateful, how to be a good person, don't let anyone down, and so on.
How to be grateful, how to calmly understand life, the cultivation of words and thinking habits, and the resonance of people and life have been engraved in my heart since I was a child, the cultivation of life, moral values, how to be grateful, the understanding of literature,
The difference between people's sense of smell and reality, delicate and personalized temperament, like the spring rain flowing into my bone marrow bit by bit, my soul's wind, frost, rain and dew are all stained with the fragrance of the soul.
It has been engraved in the deep corner of my heart. I am a perfectionist. I am a child abandoned by my parents. I am an incomplete childhood and lucky. If grandma's edification and soul are a complete system, independent thoughts and logic.
Write about the rain in spring, little by little, the flowing water drunk in the depths of the soul, little by little, little by little, the accumulation flows into the fragile soul,
The lightness of time makes the wind silent. In the quiet place, green one point, thick point, thick point, more beautiful point, better point, make people intoxicated and nostalgic.
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