My fortieth birthday came, and a few days after my birthday was the sixtieth birthday of my grandmother's beloved youngest son.
My lovely old lady began her countdown from the year I was born, even though she was 54 years old.
Hurry up and eat some fried beans, it will not be a few years of teeth; do some needlework, or in a few years the eyes can not see...
Later, the countdown was not limited to our own physical condition, but expanded to each of us.
I want to see you (me) go to college; I want to see my little grandson graduate from college; when will you be able to get married; I'm going to serve you a confinement; you have another second, a child is too lonely...
After the age of ninety, it may be that I really feel that I am older, and the way I have been chanting has changed: when the little grandson is married, I will have no worries, and when I eat the birthday cake of the younger son's sixty, I will be complete, I will be perfect...
In this way, the old lady set goals for herself while surpassing her own goals, and after 40 years. Finally came her youngest son's original life year, but she still hurried to go, unable to wait for his youngest son's birthday.
Recently, I started dreaming of her every night, I can't remember what happened, and I always feel like she's by my side. I was in a trance, thinking that ten months ago might have been a dream of mine, hoping to wake up and everything would go back to before.