More than ten years ago, my grandparents and I lived in a quiet small village, with a small lotus pond, quiet rice fields at dusk and swallows nesting under the eaves ... This is my childhood impression, and the most unforgettable thing is the sweet tofu and the thick fragrance.
In the dead of winter, the fog in the village is too thick to disperse. At about five o'clock, you can hear the familiar hawking from a distance: "sell-tofu-"this local accent? I will run down from the second floor in a hurry, pick up fifty cents and wait for the old man carrying a pole on the path. Then my grandmother followed me out with a small bowl. She knows I want this piece of tofu, for fear that I will be squeezed by adults who come to buy tofu. When I take it home, I will add two spoonfuls of sugar and stir it. This is my delicious breakfast. But I often complain that my grandmother is stingy. Why do I only give two spoonfuls of sugar? Duojia! But grandma always said, that's enough. This tofu itself is very sweet.
Unfortunately, this is all my impression of grandma. Before I went to kindergarten, my grandmother tried to give up some drugs and died of a heart attack. When I was a child, I kept asking my grandfather, was my grandmother asleep? Why don't you wake up? I'm hungry!
Grandma seems to have faded out of my memory like this. I am so naive, how can I know how painful it is for my grandfather to leave his wife who has been gone for half a lifetime? No one will accompany him to see a play, no one will cook at home and ask him to go to the ridge, no more ... the house is empty. But not long after, I went to live with my grandfather again. I didn't notice his change, but he teased me and bought me candy.
When I first started school, I seldom went back Every time I go back, I still steam eggs and sugar to mix tofu. Until the winter of 1997, when the bell rang in the middle of the night, I didn't dare to answer it, but somehow I hid under the bed and began to cry. The next morning, my parents took me back to my hometown-my grandfather died.
It snowed all night in the village, and a pile of threads piled up beside grandpa's bed-he took down the sweater his grandmother knitted for him, and then quietly left, just like the quiet rice fields he had cultivated.
My aunt told me that my grandfather couldn't bear to eat the eggs laid by hens, that he would keep them until I went back to cook steamed eggs, and that my grandfather had prepared a lot of change of fifty cents, and when I went back ... I was in tears when I listened.
After graduating from junior high school, I heard that the old man who sold tofu left six months ago. Suddenly I feel that my childhood has passed like this.
Many people can only walk with you for a while, and many people can only accompany you to remember. Thinking of these lost days, it seems that there is a lingering smell of tofu around me. I am no longer sad. They taught me too much. Let's take what they taught me to grow up.