That year, I was seven. Grandma when I was seven to go.Grandma left, plum blossom in front of the house not yet open.Every household in the New Year ready to the north and windy.Next door rejoiced, I was crying day call home.From that moment on, I really appreciate the meaning of life to death.Dad told me that her grandmother was asleep, she would never wake up….Think no longer see the face of my grandmother, my grandmother never hear a story, and tearing me apart.Alcohol black burial leaning his grandma’s coffin was howling.. Grandma told us a story of love.Over and over again, over and over again.Those few I can remember clearly the old-fashioned story, but it has magic.We never tired.One hundred do not bother. Later, then days passed, every time my grandmother telling stories, brother and sister began to run away all the way, they never want to hear my grandmother telling stories.It was then that I saw from my grandmother eyes drop out a few drops of muddy tears.I do not know why my grandmother cry.In order to coax the grandmother happy, although not listen to those who heard the story many times, I have filled an epicure listening to my grandmother telling her eternal story.When my grandmother telling stories, smiles bloom, it seems the young several years old. I remember one day, my grandmother said to me suddenly, the old grandmother, and you never want to listen to my grandmother telling stories; the story of my grandmother’s old, you never want to hear my grandmother telling stories.Brother and sister hear silent hurried escape.I kept mercy of nature comfort her, not old grandmother, grandmother’s stories never grow old.I like listening to my grandmother telling stories!Grandma’s eyes and lit it, and began to repeat the story of those thousand times.Starry sky, I unknowingly fell asleep.Grandma is still there, narrating her story, stories, just like a lullaby accompanied sleep sweet young I. Grandpa left early.When Grandpa go, Mom and Dad are still grandmother did not know it.A man to father her grandmother, aunt, sister raised, but also for my father to go to school, life is very impoverished.At that time, his elderly grandmother can not labor on the arrangements in the collective with children.From Monday to start from their own rations to the father to stay sweet potato.Holiday home when Dad can eat a few sweet potatoes to the. Grandma small feet, has been bound feet, walking Britain child Britain children of.While walking inconvenience, but it has been very hard-working.Around the house is not a weed a garbage.In particular the yard, more clean is clean.Because that is our amusement park ah! Grandma was very fond of me.Although sometimes it was my fault.Once I put my brother and sister severely beaten, and then ran in front of my grandmother told the black shape.Grandma seeing this, said, next time allowed to play slightly older siblings!Then, he yelled at them, next time, I ran quickly to! After I go to school, my grandmother began a lonely, silent most of the day most of the day.Grandma always looking at the sky in a daze.Dad to go to school to teach, mother to work in the fields, empty home, a grandmother who, sitting in the corner of the fire pit, put a bag of smoke, holding her long pipe that shot, leisurely smoking pit.Often when home from school and saw the room full of smoke, Grandma’s face in the smoke even more miserable emaciation.That moment, like the old grandmother several years old. We slowly forgotten stories of my grandmother, my grandmother no longer clamoring to tell the story.Grandma, in our growing getting older, growing old. Grandma quietly away, my grandmother took her story, with her pipes, together with her grandfather and wish to go. Grandma slowly out of our lives, away from our world.We still live the same life, day by day, year after year.