I don't seem to have written anything about my grandmother since I started writing, and I thought it was time to write something for her.

My grandmother was very kind, and her handsome face had turned into a sallow face. The last time I looked at the photos, I only saw my grandmother when she was old, so she began to talk about how beautiful she was when she was young, and we listened and didn't talk. Grandma's leg was a little bad, and sometimes it hurt, so she was dragging or walking with a wooden stick. One night, when I was sleeping with my grandmother, I heard her screaming weakly, so I did the same as her. When I woke up the next day, my voice was still hoarse. Grandma's voice didn't sound so sharp, but a little hoarse, a little different from others. One day I suddenly found out the reason - grandma had too many words.

I don't remember most of my childhood memories, but since I was in seventh grade, I have been reconstructing my memory castle with my grandmother. The most I remember is when my grandmother spoke. She has a lot to say, and she can't finish it. I sat on a stool and listened to her until I was sleepy, and I felt that she hadn't even spoken half of it. Grandma always told us stories, about hers, about other people's. Grandma is uneducated, but when it comes to telling stories, she is very precise. Her story is wonderfully connected. Jumping from one story to another, I didn't know where the turning point was, so I could only follow her train of thought, and she would bring some movements when she spoke, giving people an immersive feeling.

Sometimes no one was talking to Grandma, so she would talk to the chickens in the house. Grandma let the chickens walk around the house casually. Outside the house, on the road. Grandma didn't let us scare and hit her. We joked that chickens were grandma's treasure, and grandma echoed them and said of course.

When grandma is idle, I'm afraid it's only time to sleep.

I still remember the incident when my grandmother hit a snake, and it changed my opinion of my grandmother. I saw the bravery and greatness of my grandmother. My cousin said that when my grandmother met a ghost, she would scold and fight with the ghost! She told us siblings that when she died, the picture should not be whitewashed, but should be kept for us to see. I hope this photo will never be whitewashed.

Grandma was always idle, and she must be talking again at this point.

"If Life Can Be Thought" My Grandma is in the middle of the hand, please wait a moment,

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