In our hometown, the second day of the Chinese New Year is the day of the grave, that morning I got up at five o'clock to wash my face and drive back to my hometown, there were very few cars on the road, it didn't take long to get home, and the sky began to light. Don family

In our hometown, the second day of the Chinese New Year is the day of the grave, that morning I got up at five o'clock to wash my face and drive back to my hometown, there were very few cars on the road, it didn't take long to get home, and the sky began to light.

My cousin was already waiting for me on the street, I took the burning paper from the car and came with my cousin to the ancestral grave, after the grave I drove back to the city, on the way I remembered an old man in the village, the old man was unmarried all his life.

I remember playing hide-and-seek with my friends on the street when I was a child, drilling into the corn stalks standing on the wall, accidentally drilling into the old man's yard, the yard was full of ginger, and the southwest corner was home to chickens and sheep, and I followed the chicken intestine path to the front of the earthen house.

I crept into the room and saw an old man sitting on the kangtou, and the old man turned his face to see me, smiled and waved his hand to signal the past. I was a little timid, and the old man said Dad's name before I dared to go in.

The old man, with a thin beard and thinning hair, stood up and took off with both hands a black bamboo basket full of dirt hanging on the beam of the room, and took out a snack from it for me to eat. After eating the snack, I left, it was already dark, and there was no one on the street.

Since then I have often gone to the old man, and at that time I regarded the old man as my secret and never told anyone, including my parents. I came here mainly for good food.

The old man had an older sister, and the snacks and money were given to him by his sister, and he never ate them. I've seen his steamed black buns, dipped in salt water, his home-cooked meal.

When I went to junior high school, I rarely went to the old man, and the old man just passed by my door and saw that the door of my house was open and would go in and ask my mother, am I home.

I only came home once on the weekend, and when I came back, my mother would make me something to eat, dumplings or stewed chicken or something. I would send a bowl to the old man, and my mother would let me send it at twelve o'clock in the afternoon when everyone was eating or sleeping, mainly for fear of not letting people see it, and my mother told me not to say that it was for the old man if someone asked.

One year when I came back from high school, my dad drove a tricycle to pick me up on the bridge, and on the way back I saw a new grave in the field, and I asked my dad who it was, and dad said it was the old man's. I heard that it was the old man's surprise and sadness.

I asked my father how the old man died, and my father said that the old man died in the winter, and when he found him, he was lying in the snow, with his hands on his chest, and he did not know when he died. For many years, I wanted to burn some paper for the elderly, and I was afraid that people would not be afraid of what they said.

There are houses in the old man's village, and distant families, so... From childhood to adulthood, my kindness and concern for the elderly are secretly in my heart, the past is now and the future.