Spring roll wrappers are thin, soft and resilient dough, and since I walked around a shop specializing in spring roll wrappers at my newly rented cottage, I would pack fried rice noodles or buy some ingredients to roll and eat by myself every day. Today, I saw a pack of spicy chips that sold very well in the supermarket, but in the end, my throat was dry, and I was in the epidemic period, and I needed to register for sore throat and cold-related medicines, which was very troublesome, so I couldn't eat it directly regardless of whether my throat would be swollen and sore in the later stage, so I had to write a poem for this pack of beautiful spicy chips and "new love" spring roll skin, chatting to comfort my hungry soul:

"Your rice is fragrant, my spicy

Your glutinousness, my brittleness

When we are wrapped in entanglement

to launch a tearful critical hit."

- However, the soul of spring rolls has always been the fried vermicelli and peanuts made by my aunt.

When I think of my aunt, I think of my aunt's words that praised me, and I also think of the two people who once put me at the top of my heart.

In the village where I was born, when each child was born, the family would set off a string of firecrackers to welcome the arrival of this little life, which also meant to dispel the evil spirit of the child. My aunt said, "When you were born, when your grandfather saw that you were a woman, he said don't set off firecrackers, but we said we didn't dare, we wanted to set off firecrackers, and finally put a bunch of small ones." Later, when you brought it to your grandfather for a few years, when we played mahjong, I asked, Lai, is it better for a boy or a girl, and he said that if a girl is smart, it is the same as a boy. ”

The two people I think of are my grandparents, who were "abandoned" by my mother in my hometown, and I am very good at pleasing them, but my heart is not easy for people to get close, after my grandmother left, I transferred to my mother's place in the late elementary school, and when I transferred back to my hometown in junior high school, I didn't get close to my grandfather who approached me many times.

They loved me with all their hearts. But I have never given the same proximity and sincerity.

My heart is resentful, complaining that my mother left me, my heart is not soft enough, although they are very good to me, I should have been kind to them, close to them, but I didn't. My regret became especially strong when I thought of my grandfather saying that if I had to go to college and buy me something that was expensive at the time, he believed that I would definitely get into college. I regret my inaction, my constant withdrawal.

Maybe I naively thought that approaching my grandparents was a betrayal of my mother's love, maybe I was embarrassed, maybe I was ······ I do not know. I still think that tears of guilt will flow uncontrollably. I don't know why I was like that at the time. I regret it. They were really nice to me. I regret that I didn't give him a heart of love and dependence when he left, and I regret that I didn't make him feel that there were people in the world who cared so much about him and were so close to him. I regret it.

His granddaughter, who reciprocated his expectations, was not close to him.

For relatives who truly love themselves, we must give them timely feedback and express in time. Because it is not easy to cause such a profound regret as mine.

Today's Xiaolai: "Spring is gone, idle old bees and butterflies." I love that.

This sentence is from Mr. Hu Yishu in the Yuan Dynasty's "Yangchun Song, Spring Scene", put the original text for everyone to enjoy:

A few apricots on the red snow wall, counting the screen of the green mountain house. How sunny can you get in spring? March scene, it is better to get drunk than to wake up.

The remnants of the flowers brew bee honey, and the drizzle blends the swallow mud. Green Window Spring Sleep is late. Who evokes? Outside the window, the warbler cries.

A curtain of red rain and peach blossoms, ten miles of clear yin willow shadows. Luoyang flower wine for a while. Spring is gone, and the old bees and butterflies are idle.

- Sometimes when I look at ancient poetry, I feel that it is written in the vernacular like ours, and compared with other forms of expression, I feel that ancient poetry is the most concise and beautiful way of expressing scenery and feelings.