Prose with popcorn flavor

Childhood memories are always so sweet and unforgettable. Memories before the age of five are pieced together, and memories before the age of five are told by elders. However, the fragrance of this popcorn has fully affected the years I have gone through. Was it a luxury snack when I was a child? Or is it from grandma?

There is always a wisp of fragrant rice in memory, and there is always a vague figure floating in memory.

That day, I met a vendor who fried rice at the corner of the community. Old burden and old machine are full of smoke. From time to time, someone takes rice to process, and then bang, a pot of delicious rice bubbles comes out. Standing in the warm sunshine, I remembered my childhood, which was my favorite. In that era of material poverty, delicious popcorn was the most extravagant food! Vaguely, in the long bluestone alley, my grandmother hobbled behind the kitchen smoke. When I was a child, I was dragged in my arms by my grandmother, moving my wrapped feet and marching with the team step by step, just waiting for the delicious rice bubble, just to satisfy my young gluttony.

My mother said that I especially liked popcorn when I was a child. My grandmother always saves a little rice from the ration, which also satisfies my little wish. The honey pot in my memory is square and contains my favorite. Popcorn lies quietly in a honey pot that can only hold my little hand. Whenever I want to eat, I will take it out, sit on the square stool, grab a handful and put it in my little lips, chew it carefully and swallow it slowly. When I was young, I didn't know the preciousness of rice. I enjoyed it safely and showed it off among my friends from time to time. My mother said that when I was a child, I was particularly overbearing and took my grandmother for myself. My cousin is here. I closed the door and refused to let them in to see my grandmother. I kept shouting: This is my grandma, not you Gaga. I also hid the honey pot that grandma took out to entertain them and said, grandma fried it for me, but I didn't give it to you. Cousins go back and complain angrily every time, saying that grandma is eccentric. Grandma always patiently explained that Eiko's parents (my nickname) are not around, you still have grandparents who love you, and your brothers and sisters are all together. Eiko is poor, only her grandmother is with her, so of course she should be taken care of. My mother told me all this later. I didn't know grandma's difficulty and helplessness until I grew up. My palms and the back of my hands are full of meat. It's unfair to take sides. Young I didn't know that my grandmother's pain and sadness deprived her of her love for another grandson, and she suffered many complaints for no reason. Maybe this is my grandmother's regret and willfulness. I hurt my grandmother to some extent. And this kind of regret and injury can't be made up by me in the age without doubt, leaving only endless thoughts and troubles!

My mother said that my grandmother always takes me to restaurants because I love dumplings. Grandma was reluctant to buy two copies, thinking that she would eat the rest if I couldn't finish it, but every time I wolfed down a bowl of glutinous rice balls, I didn't even leave the soup for grandma.

My mother said that I was particularly prone to colds and coughs when I was a child, so my grandmother planted a loquat tree in the yard. When I have a cold and cough, I pick fresh loquat leaves, add rock sugar and cook with Fritillaria cirrhosa, and drink a little every day. This folk prescription was handed down to me by my mother after I became a mother. Of course, when loquat is ripe, it is also a delicious snack when I was a child.

Mom said that when I was a child, my spleen was malnourished, I didn't like to eat, and I was skinny. Grandma was so anxious to seek medical treatment everywhere that she found a remedy, saying that she dried the excrement that the chicken had just pulled out, fried it with termites, then baked it into ashes and left it for several months. Grandma dare not take me as a demonstration. She ate it herself without any side effects before she dared to let me drink it. I don't know whether it's the prescription or grandma's sincerity. My spleen malnutrition has been cured. Many years later, my sister often joked that I grew up eating chicken manure, but unfortunately my grandmother didn't listen to this joke. I only remember that I was fat when I was a child. To paraphrase my sister, I just fell down and couldn't get up. Thanks to my grandmother, I'm still trying to lose weight. Should I thank my grandmother or blame her? Of course, this is just a joke.

Mother said that when my uncle was suffering from epilepsy and didn't know anyone, my grandmother would hold me tightly in her arms, protect my head and let my fist rain down. Mom said that once I was playing by the river with my friends and accidentally slipped into the water. In desperation, I grabbed a handful of aquatic plants on the shore and climbed up. Afraid of being accused, my friends sneaked home, left me wet and hid under the eaves of other people's houses. My grandmother looked for me everywhere like crazy, and I was afraid to answer. In my memory, my grandmother hugged me and burst into tears. It was the first time I saw my grandmother cry, which startled me and made me firmly remember that heartache.

Mom said my cousin has no children and wants to adopt me to them. One day, on a whim, menstruation took me away from my grandmother's house, and the delicious food satisfied me. Unfortunately, my stomach couldn't resist the temptation, and I pulled and vomited at night, which frightened my aunt. My uncle wrapped me up and sent me back to my grandmother's house overnight. My grandmother looked at me shivering with cold and said to my uncle, I can ruin the child. She is still so young. I didn't know it was raining. Mother said that it was the first time grandma kept a straight face in front of outsiders, and my uncle never dared to mention the inheritance again.

Many stories about grandma are told by my mother, and many stories about my childhood are also told by my mother. But the memory of this popcorn is so real in my memory that it can never be erased. The lingering fragrance between the lips and teeth still reverberates on the lips, and the aftertaste is always so mellow and distant, just like the popcorn fragrance that has remained unchanged for decades!