Growth is with you all the way. When I was a child, I had a pair of braids and lived in an old house with my grandma. Although it is an old house, it does not look dilapidated and cleaned by the clean-loving grandma. The drizzle likes this place and likes to sneak into the courty

Growth accompanied you all the way and fragrant

When I was a child, I had a pair of braids and lived in an old house with my grandma.

Although it is an old house, it does not look dilapidated and cleaned by the clean-loving grandma. The drizzle likes this place and likes to sneak into the courtyard. The breeze blows, bringing the smell of soil. It lingers here, stroking and touching the black chimney of the old house, kissing the red roof and the white walls. The sun also likes here, and after the rain, it always sways and shines around.

One of my favorite things is sitting in a rocking chair with my grandma and basking in the warm sun. Grandma gently shook the fan for me, humming an ancient song in her mouth. Time slowed down, and it seemed as if it was a long time to grow up. It flowed gently and slowly, most afraid of waking up the peaceful atmosphere.

I don’t like to sleep in the afternoon, as it will mess up my braids. My grandma sometimes uses a comb made of mahogany to comb my messy hair. My hair is neither black nor yellow in the sun, and it feels a bit rough to the touch. But my grandma always takes care of me patiently, and every time it is a new trick, so I always pester my grandma. Grandma looked at me with a smile, scratched my nose and said, "Good girl." I smiled in the sun and hugged my grandma. Grandma couldn't resist me acting coquettishly, so she would smile helplessly and combed my hair.

I like to jump to the sun after my grandma finished combing her hair, and use the shadow to look at the shape of her hair, and caress her hands carefully, for fear of messing up her combed hair.

At this time, I like to go out and show off my little braids. Sometimes when I see someone opening the door, I will walk in and ask grandpa or grandma. I stand by my side, as if I am stroking my hair casually. Others will notice: "Who made it for you with such a beautiful braid?" I will look up proudly and say, "My grandma!" Then I turn my head and run away, looking for the next house with satisfaction.

It is the happiest thing when I meet my friends. Looking at them looking at my hair with envious eyes, my heart is always sweet. They wanted to touch my hair, but I didn't let them touch it, for fear that they would ruin grandma's work. Sometimes they would run home, pull their grandma out, wanting to see my braid. I always cover my hair and run away quickly, afraid that they will copy my unique braids. Thinking about it now, it's really stupid and a bit funny.

Later, I left the old house, left my grandmother's care, and came to the city. The bustling neighborhoods in the city temporarily made me forget the beauty of the old house. Everyone here is in a hurry, and they have no time to recall, and are pushed forward by the people coming and going.

I occasionally raise my head in front of the messy books, thinking of the old house and the grandmother who lives in the old house, but finally buried my head and hid this memory in my heart. But my grandma's phone call disturbed my mood. My grandma said, "Girl, I miss you, come back and see grandma." I was moved on the end of the phone. I heard my grandma say that I was already crying like rain and crying.

Now I always sit in front of the old house to comb my grandma's gray hair. Grandma's hair became thinner and you could see skin that was whiter than her hair. As I combed it, tears flowed into my eyes. I quickly covered my mouth with my hands, turned my head but found that my grandma was already asleep. Grandma muttered to herself in her dream: "Girl, come back and take a look... look..." I choked and said, "Grandma, girl is back, girl is back." I stretched out my hand and stretched out my frown brows. Grandma smiled sweetly in the dream as if she had sense.

Grandma slept so peacefully, her head slightly slugged, and her mouth was slight snoring. I held my grandma's rocking chair, swayed gently, and quietly watched the quiet appearance of the years. I recalled a few years ago, the same situation was just like me holding the rocking chair. I stroked my hair again, and now I am no longer a braid.