On Old House

The rain keeps falling. The dream of sunshine and rain makes people so infatuated. Summer sky is always so annoying, there is no reason, that’s all. There is wind outside the window, patter, slow and urgent. The wind mixed with rain, slapping the window, making a rhythmic sound, so happy. Occasionally, after turning back, there are many high-rise buildings, suddenly thinking of you. When the memory fades gradually and becomes Autumn, missing is always Spreading. Everything about you is special to me. After a lot of time, I will still think of your face. The rain didn’t draw your face, and I was dizzy. On the day when the cloud saw the rain, the wind blew through and left me alone, leaving only missing. Every time I walk to the traffic, looking back, there is always no you. You are like an evaporated back, which is a play with no ending. We don’t look like a movie. I don’t see myself until people leave. The saddest and most beautiful thing is not leaving, but moving memories, which make people easily stand where they are and think they will go back. Only I know that beauty is worth giving everything for this happy feeling. Close your eyes and think of that old man, that scene. In the afternoon, the sunshine was not dazzling, and the child went home after school. The old man sat on the door, waiting for his grandson’s figure. In the distance, the children’s laughter came, and the old man knew it was time to cook. As usual, my grandson likes to eat the food she cooks. Let’s just eat pickled cabbage noodles. The old figure is busy. ”Grandma, I’m back ”. The child shouted naively. ”Come here, I will feed you ”. The child threw a schoolbag into the house, threw it into the old man’s arms and ate the delicious food made by the old man obediently. So warm, so touched. After dinner, it was still the same place where the old man held the child and taught him multiplication formula with books. ”One by one, one by two get two ‘. The child read aloud, ”one by one, one by two, two ”. The sky is still the same, look, there, what do you still want to say? The cup is already empty, what to use, melt the silence. Sighing in the cold air around turned into smoke, and all the past rolled into snowballs in my heart. I was afraid that tears would flow first before I spoke. Occasionally, come back to you. I am the only one left to recall. I am not who I was in those years. The world is changing and people are changing. What’s more, memories are not changing. Can you still go back? The rain stopped. The old house, my memory, made me infatuated.

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