Grandpa, the cherry is red

The cherry blossoms are all gone. It's time for the cherry to appear. Small bright red fruit, crystal clear, although red, but not vulgar, but there is a sense of refined, pure, warm.

Every time I see a pile of small red fruits, I can't help but look at them more, remembering that the red fruits and green leaves are full of trees, and the bright colors are very harmonious. Perhaps it is because of such a strong sense of pictures that those scenery left a deep imprint on my mind. Even though I haven't seen the deep red cherry growing on the tree for several years, every time I see the shadow of the cherry again, I see the cherry tree full of fruit and my grandfather standing under the tree with a smile on his face.

undoubtedly, I like cherries. Not only love his unique taste, but also love the love that is as thick as the color of cherry but not greasy.

as far as I can remember, on the edge of the solid threshing floor in front of my hometown, there were three tall cherry trees in a row of small trees in the paddock. At that time, I was a child, carefree age. During the interval of playing, I happened to find a cherry tree full of flowers. I stood on tiptoe under the tree and broke a few hanging cherry flowers. I crossed the door and told my grandfather to help me find a bottle for me to place those beautiful flowers.

Grandpa loves to drink, and he has a large collection of wine bottles. He went into the back room for a while, took out three beautiful bottles, carefully washed them, filled them with water, inserted the flowers I picked and put them in a conspicuous place in the room. The dark light in the room was instantly lit by these cherry flowers.

after several spring rains, the flowers will fade. There will be an early morning when the dew is still wet and the sun is warm, and suddenly I find small green fruits sticking out of the leaves, cute and shy. You can't even see the color of the fruit from a distance, and it is submerged in the leaves. It is an ordinary tree. When you get close, you will suddenly find that the green precious fruits are secretly smiling at you behind the leaves. Will suddenly be happy. As a result, this spring has an additional expectation.

I would watch under the tree every day, but I couldn't resist the temptation. I would quietly pick a yellowish green fruit from the drooping branch and gently bite it until the sour taste spread all over my mouth. Then I went home disappointed, pulled my grandfather's clothes and asked with tears, "When can I eat cherries?" Whenever this happens, grandpa will stop what he is doing, touch my head and say with a smile, "It will rain a few more times, so you can eat."

When I am about to forget such a thing, I will be awakened by the cheerful cries of birds one morning and look out against the sunshine scattered in the wooden lattice window. Three prominent cherry trees on the edge of the venue are covered with small red lanterns. In the bright light and shadow, grandpa is standing by the tree with his back to the window, holding a long bamboo pole to drive away the birds stealing fruit. Hurriedly dressed and walked out of the house, there was a basin of washed cherries in front of me, fresh and attractive. I think grandpa just took it off this morning. Another surprise.

After a season of cherry, Grandpa tied a hammock between two dense cherry trees. I always go for a few swings every day, and in the shade of summer, it becomes the place where I take a nap. Although every time I sleep for a long time, I will be hurt all over, but I still have a special liking for that place.

grow up a little, and go to school. Looking forward to the cherry ripening season, grandpa will pick a bag of cherries with handles early, and grandma will help wash them. When he left, grandpa hung a bag of cherries on the handlebar of the bicycle, and then picked me up and put me on the crossbar of the bicycle. At that time, grandpa was in good health, and although his hair was a little gray and sparse, it did not affect my great dependence on him.

Those cherries I brought are enough for me to eat for a day, and some greedy students are willing to exchange their snacks with me for some fresh cherries, and I always enjoy the exchange. Then I will eat all kinds of snacks all day.

On the way home, I sit on the crossbar, and I will count my cherries and who exchanged a fruit candy, who exchanged a piece of bread with whom, and how much I gave to the best one. Grandpa is always behind. Mm-hmm. I feel that the answer is too perfunctory. I will twist my body naughty and want to scratch my grandfather's face. Most of the time, I will encounter a chin with a little beard and have a slight tingling. Grandpa will lean back and head up, avoid my naughty hand, and say with a little anger, "Hold the handlebar well, don't fall!" "

Those cherries that are so sweet in time still come as scheduled every year. I don't know how many times I took that road to school, from grandpa's bike to walking alone until my parents took me back to town, and then I rarely took that road to school again. The naughty little girl was also quiet and shy by time.

at that time, I had left town to attend middle school and went home once a week. Fortunately, my hometown is not far from the town where I live. In the season when cherries are ripe, there will always be a pot of cherries on the table when I come home on Friday, with a small green handle, as fresh as just picked. Needless to say, my grandparents must have figured that I was going home. I took time to pick it at noon and took a short mountain road in the afternoon to send it here.

I've never thought about whether the cherry picking process is troublesome or not, and I don't think that my grandparents put down their work and sent cherries specially so that my granddaughter can eat the sweet cherries on the trees in her hometown when she gets home.

In those years, I never really looked at the cherries sold in the market, because no matter how well they were sold, I couldn't eat the sweet cherries filled with love prepared by my grandparents.

Later, Grandpa fell ill and sought medical advice everywhere. Finally, he was able to limp with crutches. At that time, my mother's shop was busy, so my grandmother went to the town to help, leaving my grandfather alone in my hometown.

Many weekends, I rode my bike alone to my hometown to accompany my grandfather. After my illness, my grandfather's hair became thinner and whiter. Although he hasn't recovered from his illness, grandpa is still busy with crutches, still insists on watching the news regularly every day, and still lovingly asks me about my study, just like before. But grandpa is no longer as strong as I was when I was a child, and I gradually got rid of my dependence on him.

The bicycle that once sent me to school has become scrap iron and was thrown in the back room, and I stayed with those bottles to count the lonely time.

In the season when cherry blossoms are in full bloom, I will still pick a few and put them in beautiful wine bottles to light up the darkness and loneliness in the room. I will still ask my busy grandfather when I can eat sweet cherries, and he will still stop his work and seriously answer, "A few more rains will make it red." I will still forget my expectation while waiting ...

I will suddenly find that the cherry is ripe one day.

So, on a sunny weekend, I rode my bike on a path I didn't know how many times I had traveled, counted the only memories left, and ran happily to my hometown. Before he entered the door, grandpa limped out with a crystal clear cherry in his hand. I was surprised and subconsciously looked at the cherry tree. There was a high bench under the tree and some chairs beside it. I don't know how my grandfather, who is old and unable to move, moved these chairs and benches one by one under the tree, or how he stood on the chair and stood on the bench with his limp left foot on crutches, or how he looked up and picked these cherries with high blood pressure.

The red cherries were lying in the basin and looking at me, but I looked at my smiling grandfather, with my mouth puckered, and I wanted to cry, but I put up with it. Just make sure that this is the sweetest cherry I have ever eaten in my life!

The summer after eating cherries, grandpa became seriously ill and died suddenly. When I went back to my hometown to pack my things, I stood at the door stupefied and saw my father take out his rusty black bicycle and throw away those beautiful wine bottles that had been inserted with cherry blossoms. I couldn't help crying under the cherry tree any longer.

The shade is still extremely cool, and countless cicadas' cries converge into an elegy. Inadvertently, I caught a glimpse of a small circle of faint traces on the trunk of the cherry tree, and suddenly I was in a trance, as if I were back to that carefree age. I was sitting in a hammock and playing, and my grandfather was busy not far away. At that time, he was not on crutches or limping, so he could pick me up in one hand and put me on the crossbar of his bike, and he could easily take off a bag of cherries for me ... < P > Only, everything was gone. It's just that I can't eat such sweet cherries anymore. Once sweet, it was only sweet in memory and stored forever.

Every time I see a red cherry, I always glance lovingly. The person who picked cherries for me is no longer there, but those loves about cherries have been remembered by me forever.

Now, it's another cherry season. Just eating cherries is not as greedy as before. At this time of year, a little cherry is enough to evoke all warm memories and remind me of the person who picked cherries for me. It's like when I suddenly see a small red cherry with water dripping in the market one day, I will silently say, Grandpa, the cherry is ripe again. Are you okay there? Did someone send you a cherry?

During the Qingming Festival, I miss my family dearly. I would like to use this article to pay tribute to my grandfather who has been dead for many years but still lives in my heart.