Persimmon trees in my hometown

There is a persimmon tree in the yard of my hometown. I don't know its age. I heard from my grandmother that she was a big tree when she got married.

Now that I am past my grandmother's age, persimmon trees are still flourishing every year. In summer, our family enjoys the cool under the tree. Grandpa likes to tell us stories with a little wine.

Among many grandchildren, only I have the courage to play jokes on my grandfather and correct his beard. Grandpa just hides with a smile and never gets angry. Sometimes they tease me, "This wine is so sweet and delicious." Swallow wine and smash your mouth on purpose.

Driven by curiosity, I grabbed the cup and took a long drink. Oh, my God! The wine is not sweet, which makes me cry. I said loudly, "bad grandpa, bad grandpa." I grinned and the whole family laughed their heads off.

In the early days of the People's Republic of China, when culture was not popular, my grandfather was a man of culture. He is a village document. He is responsible for writing and counting.

At that time, I especially admired my grandfather, and his story seemed endless. I especially like telling stories about fighting devils, because I fought a battle not far from our village and sacrificed several soldiers. It is said that it is buried behind our village.

In autumn, persimmons turn from green to red. When all the leaves fall, persimmons hang on trees like red lanterns, which makes people drool.

Just ripe persimmons, unlike other fruits, can be eaten when picked. Fresh persimmons are too astringent, and it will take several days to be fully cooked. Persimmon is soft and sweet at this time, so persimmon has become one of my favorite fruits.

My grandparents know that I like persimmons. When they are mature, they always choose some big and red ones for me to stay in winter.

The red persimmon was so tempting that I swallowed it in one gulp. Grandparents will smile and say, "eat slowly, just like when you were a child." I am an adult and don't eat. " I would eat and laugh and say, "What's the matter? This is home, which is invisible to outsiders. Only you two can see that and won't laugh at me. I will never grow up in front of you. "

Listening to the story told by grandpa and eating the persimmon cooked by grandma, I grew up unconsciously. Have a family, have children and become a mother.

I remember the first time I took my children home and sat under the persimmon tree to enjoy the cool. Grandpa looked at my child, smiled from ear to ear, touched his little face and said, this little guy must be strong when he grows up.

I said, "Well, maybe, you see it's so dark."

Grandpa smiled and said, "The black raccoon cow is livid. This is coloring. Boys are not afraid of black, as long as they are strong. "

I didn't expect him to change so much when he grew up. He is not black and strong, but tall and thin.

Once I didn't go home for a long time, my grandparents said they were worried that the persimmons left for me were broken, so they sent me a basket by car.

When I opened the door and saw my grandfather, my heart was really bad. I know, grandpa thinks I'm not giving me persimmons, but looking for an excuse to see me. It's already winter, and it's cold. The old man came into the room and took off his hat, but his head was steaming in the cold.

I came back to look at the persimmon tree sprouting in front of me. It left me too many memories. But times have changed, and the old trees are still flourishing, bearing fruit every year. Unfortunately, I'll never see anyone I want to see again. Nobody is waiting for me to come back. No one left me my favorite persimmon. No one laughed at my eating.

The old tree has experienced many vicissitudes and witnessed too many changes in the world, and the old and the new alternate. I will come back again, for the good old days and unforgettable memories.