It was an autumn when the dried leaves started falling from trees. My dad was extremely excited, saying when it snowed, he would go to the mountain and make a huge snow ball that the passengers on the highway would see and admired. But when the Christmas came, dad said nothing about the mountain. One day，my dad was seriously ill. He just lay there, say nothing. Mom said it's time to move to grandparents' home because the cold weather in the mountain could kill my father.
After twenty-four hours driving, we arrived at grandparents' home. Dad still lay outside for one day. Gradually, he came to himself. But he still spoke nonsense at the table. And grandma and mother paid no attention to him and sometimes laughed at him.
One day, my grandma drove me and brother to hike. There she told us a legend about beautiful stones. A tribe fights against the US but fails. The knights can't stand the shame and they killed themselves by jumping from the hill. Hearing the sad news, their wives cry desperately. Once the the tears touch the land, they turn into stones. That is how the beautiful stones come into being.
One day, suddenly my dad demand it is time to go home though mom thought it was too late to drive. On the way, my brother who was driving fell asleep and a terrible accident happened. My mom was seriously injured that she couldn't stand the light from the window when she was discharged from hospital. So my mom moved to the basement. Gradually, she recovered. My brother always blamed himself for the accident. But on one blamed him. For me, the accident always remind me of the hiking with grandma and the story about the beautiful stones.
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