How to write to grandma?

I have an article of my own. You can change the form and content.

worry

Caring is a kind of missing and caring. Concern is the attachment of white clouds to the blue sky; Concern is the expectation of spring flowers; Caring is my mother's yearning for the wanderer ... and I care about those two simple old people-my grandparents.

Every time I see the stars in the sky, I always think of a summer night when I was a child. My grandparents accompanied me in the yard to enjoy the cool and count the stars. They fanned me with calloused hands and told me beautiful and touching myths ... My mother was in poor health when she first gave birth to me, and my father was busy at work, so they were too busy to take care of me, so before I went to kindergarten, I lived under the care of my grandparents.

As long as I can remember, everything my grandparents did reminds me. I miss those days when I have a headache and my brain is hot, I miss my grandparents' meticulous care for me all day, and I miss their smiling faces dyed red by the sunset when they are busy with farm work; I miss the taste of delicious food they cooked for me regardless of fatigue ... these trivial things are precious to me and deserve my low taste.

Now, it has been eight or nine years since I left the farmhouse, and my grandparents' bodies are gradually not as strong as before. Whenever the willows sprout, I always worry that my grandparents will be exhausted by the busy farm work. Whenever peaches come into the market, I always think that the peaches planted by my grandparents must have a bumper harvest and fantasize about their smiling faces. Whenever chrysanthemums in Ao Shuang are in full bloom, I always call them as if I care about them and tell them that the autumn wind is coming and they must put on more clothes. Whenever the cold wind blows hard, I always carefully select a few cotton-padded jackets for my mother to send. I care about my grandparents in the distant morning, their health, their diet and daily life, and their harvest. ...

The good times of childhood will never reappear, but even if I leave their side, my love for my grandparents will only be deeper and my concern for them will be deep.