Grapes in memory

In the hometown, in the old house, there is a grape.

For as long as I can remember, the grape has climbed wildly up the pillar, and under the sun, it has raised its "head" high, as if proudly declaring to me: "Boy, I am older than you!" Indeed, I don't really know how "old" it really is, only that it has been with me throughout my childhood. Later, I always heard people talk about its history - in the seventies of the last century, the old house was just ready, and Grandma went to the vegetable field on the hillside to pick vegetables, and on the way back, she found a small grape. Grandma thought that the backyard of the old house could grow some fruit, so she took it back to the old house to plant, and then it climbed frantically up the pillar of the backyard. If this is the case, then this grape not only accompanied my entire childhood, but also witnessed the growth of my father, but it is really the "big elder" in the old house.

The grapes in memory are the expectations of summer. I remember my childhood, whenever summer came, I would look at the small grape seeds that were still green in a daze, and then my grandmother would always come over and pat my little head, smile and say to me: "Zihao, the grapes are not ripe yet, and when it turns red, you can eat it." "So, I look forward to going to the backyard every day to see if the grapes have grown or turned red. I waited, and finally, one day Grandma told me it was time to pick grapes, and I jumped off the bed excitedly and followed Grandma to the backyard. I saw grandma on the ladder, with scissors in one hand and grapes in the other, while I was holding a bag underneath. The joys of childhood are simple and fulfilling.

Grapes are picked, always made by Grandma into all kinds of delicacies, grape salads, chilled grapes, grape juice... Delicious and healthy. My taste buds will always be impressed by my grandmother's mental skills, and my grandmother will always try to create various "new products" for me.

The grapes in memory always come with bugs. I remember one summer, just after dawn, I sneaked to the backyard alone. Under the grapes, I saw a delicate little "wooden strip", I walked over with great interest, pinched it, and the result was that the "wooden strip" suddenly began to curl up in my hand, which frightened me into losing my hand and shouting, and Grandma rushed over after hearing the sound, asked the reason, and then smiled and told me that it was a big green worm and did not bite. After saying that, he picked up the huge fat worm and put it elsewhere. I asked Grandma why she didn't stomp the bug to death, but Grandma told me that bugs are also a life, and we can't hurt them. After that "bug-pinching incident", the grapes were still my expectations, but they were overshadowed by the bugs—I didn't dare to go to the backyard alone anymore, nor did I dare to pick up things on the ground, and then I left the old house and went to the big city far from my hometown.

In big cities, I also eat grapes a lot. The grapes in the city are delicious, but they lack the fun and feeling. I miss the grapes of my memory—My Grandmother's grapes. However, I couldn't eat it after all.

Not long ago, I went back to the old house. The old house is no longer there. I walked on the rugged dirt and found the shadow of the grape. It still stands there, but it does not produce grapes again, nor does it raise its head proudly. He is like an old man who has experienced the world, hunched over, bowed his head, and does not say a word...

I stood in the distance, looking at the grapes in the distance, and there was a powerful strangeness that surrounded me tightly. After all, the grape is still the grape in the "memory", and grandma is no longer the grandma who grew up with me.

Author: Gan Zihao

Edit: Gan Zihao