"Grandma and Shoes" original text

"Do you know why I can't bear to lose it?"

This is a memory that makes life instantly tender. When I graduated from college, my family lived in Beitou Mountain. In the morning when there is no class, I often run around the mountain with two puppies. On a sunny day, the beautiful scenery on the mountainside of Datun is indescribable. What makes me most happy is that I suddenly turn around when I walk, and then I can carefully identify which one is my home under the mountain slope.

Walking, my new slippers are not decent. However, I didn't have time to care about it until one evening, when I came home from school, I saw my slippers neatly placed on the cement path in the garden through the low stone wall. With the arrogance of just breaking up with my classmates, I cried loudly outside the low wall:

"Who dares to touch my slippers?" Nothing happened in the garden. Looking into the living room, grandma is sitting behind the screen door, shaking her fan and smiling at me.

"I washed your slippers with your hose this afternoon. As long as you put them in the sun, they will dry. How convenient! What a big girl! Wearing such dirty shoes gives people a joke. "

From then on, whenever my grandmother went up the mountain, she would always help me wash and dry my slippers, and sometimes even put them in front of my bed. Then at night, she will sit quietly in the living room, shaking her fan and waiting for us to come back. When I wear slippers, I often feel warm and comfortable. I don't know if it's the afternoon sunshine in the yard or the residual temperature on grandma's hands.

It is precisely because of this lingering warmth that after the news of grandma's death came, all the things that can make me commemorate her old man's house, such as the ring I gave on the eve of going abroad and the small cotton-padded jacket I bought, were well put away in tears. I have these slippers with me all the time, and I can't bear to lose them. Every time I touch its gray surface, I seem to touch the warm and wrinkled hands of my grandmother who washed it. I will think of the garden path in the sunset and the smile of my grandmother behind the screen door in the living room. So far away, so gentle, so sure to disappear forever.