Li Xinyang: He didn't eat this strawberry cake, but he only let me eat it. I picked up the spoon and tasted it, and then Li Xinyang asked me, "How is it, is it delicious?" ”

I nodded, the cream was crispy and numb, and it was not very bitter with strawberries and white chocolate, it was just another human delicacy! I always seem to describe delicious things like this, and after so many years, I have been described as a delicious thing in the world, not a hundred but fifty.

Li Xinyang then said, "Fool, you love to eat, it's delicious!" ”

What a situation! Li Xinyang: What did he say all of a sudden? inexplicably has an extra bank card, and then says this kind of thing, could it be that he has watched too many TV series, and then learned the domineering president style in the school?

I was still there complacent, until my mom woke me up, "Huh? ”

"What do you think? It's time to get out of the car and pack up. Mom said, then turned around and began to move the luggage out of the luggage compartment above her head.

It turned out to be a dream, and when I woke up, the dream would break. Damn train, early to the station, late to the station, but in the most exciting part of my dream, God really did it against me!

I packed up my things and stood next to the car door with my mom and dad. I'm about to go to my grandmother's house, but my mind isn't all about it.

I've been wondering what kind of situation is that dream going to happen, and what kind of situation is that unrealistic dream happening? Could it be that I've been thinking crankily lately, that's why I think about it day and dream at night?

No, where is this day thinking and night dreaming! This is obviously thinking every day, dreaming every day!

We arrived at the station at 5:21 p.m., and my mother said that my uncle had really come to the train station to pick us up in a big van. I have to say that this uncle, who is 13 years older than me, is sometimes quite reliable in doing things!

Uncle was waiting for us at the front of the exit, and as soon as I stepped out of the train station, I saw him. His signature outfit is still so iconic, the pink bow tie is something he wears no matter what he wears, even if he's wearing a hurdle vest.

Uncle beckoned to us, and we quickly pulled our suitcases and walked over. As soon as we met, the strong atmosphere of my hometown came to my face.

Grandma's house is not in the city, but in the countryside. When I was young, I liked to stay at my grandmother's house, and although it was not very convenient to take a bath or something, I liked to stand in the field with my grandmother and play with my little flower dog.

"Uncle, Xiaohanazi, how is he now?" I asked my uncle. Little Flower Child, that little flower dog, was brought back to my grandmother's house in the second year of my birth, and has grown to this size until now.

I don't know, since May a few months ago, he has lost weight. When I was a child, thanks to him, I was with me, with that little me, walking on the country road. With the setting sun, walk slowly step by step.

The uncle only said, "It's alive." ”

I don't know what that sentence still alive represents. Could it be that the little flower dog has experienced some kind of illness related to life and death? Or was it beaten by outsiders?

In the eyes of others, the little flower dog, his name is Xiaohua, he is my most sincere playmate in childhood. His meaning to me is not only a little flower dog who cares for the home, but also a friend who accompanies the left and right, which is inseparable, the kind I care about the most, a very sincere friend.

We got into the van, my uncle sat in the driver's seat, and started the van. The van left the train station and headed for my grandmother's house. A van, the size of a room in my grandmother's small house, sat four people and three large suitcases.

The bumpy road is because the road is always full of potholes and bumps! The wheels of the car spun vigorously, and then the wheels of the car were carried forward.

This potholed dirt road is where I used to play when I was a child. I remember that my grandmother's house just walked on this dirt road, and then it seemed like there was a shaft, and I went through it, and when I turned right, the fourth house was my grandmother's house.

Only now, that shaft is no longer in use, it has been pressed down by a large stone, and then it is no longer used. His mission has been accomplished, just like a stove, after being used by people for decades, it suddenly stops being used, and the gas stove is installed in the house, and the traditional mission of the stove really no longer exists.

What is the true value of an old object? In this era of keeping pace with the times, do you have to forget everything about the past? Obviously not, it's just that we're all evolving here.

Since the birth of human beings, we have been constantly evolving. From the primitive ape-man who can only crawl, to us who can now use all kinds of black technology products. We have changed too much, and some of the wisdom of our ancestors, we have slowly forgotten and no longer cherished them.

It's like that well, how useful it was before tap water became widespread. Perhaps at that time, to pick a bucket of water, you need to queue up at that well for a long time in the morning before you can get it. Now, however, the fate of a well is linked to his birthplace.

If he was born in a famous tourist attraction, he could be an ornamental object for a long time. But if he had been born here, or in another village, after a change, the tap water would take his place, and slowly, he would have been dusted and forgotten.

Perhaps only those who have used him in the past will remember him. They will be missed, just like my grandmother, who always sat under the big locust tree at the entrance of the village, listened to the call of the magpies in the tree, and then looked into the distance.

She was waiting for someone to come back, and that person was my grandfather. According to my mother, my grandmother was always under the big locust tree at the entrance of the village, waiting for my grandfather to come back from the field with a hoe.

After a day's work, his body was covered with the fragrance of earth. The fragrant soil is the truest portrayal of the farmer's life. The older generation has been dealing with the land all their lives. In their eyes, the land is their child, and they have to take care of them, so that the child's child, that is, their young grandchildren, will thrive.

This is the story of a farmer. I didn't expect to become so sentimental, and I actually remembered the well in the village from the potholed dirt road, and then thought of so many things.

I really like to imagine so much, since I started daydreaming, until now, haven't I been living in my own imaginary world? Suddenly, the car stopped at the gate of my grandmother's house.

When I came in May, it was still the same red iron gate as before? Later, I heard my mother say that the door was changed, but I didn't expect it to be really replaced with a silver-white super long iron door!

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