Grandma's blue scarf

One day, I suddenly remembered the small village surrounded by sunshine.

It is still quiet and steady, maintaining an eternal appearance.

I stood in the distance staring at it, watching the plump white cotton in the field dancing in the wind, and laughing my teeth out.

Grandma still came out with the blue scarf. Her bloated body slowly moved into the field, and then slowly lowered her head like a slow moving cow - but the blue scarf on her head fluttered like a stabbing ball accidentally hooked on the back of a cow, humbly and tenaciously begging for attention.

Grandma's blue scarf, in that white cotton field, looks particularly eye-catching.

It seems that I suddenly understood the meaning of Grandma's scarf.

At that time, I was still young and a wild boy running around the village. No matter how hot the sun is, or how wet the ground is, I will plunge myself into others' cotton fields regardless.

Because of my mischief, my grandma often goes to make amends for others' crops. No one will forgive me easily for a villager who has to rely on cotton for a living all his life.

Grandma at that time had to carry a bamboo basket filled with her own baked cakes and go door to door to comfort those people.

Such activities often last until dark. When it got dark, I knew I was going home. So he dragged his tired body and his face full of mud and snot back to his own field.

Before I got close, I saw the blue scarf floating in the cotton field.

I laughed, relieved and happy, and plunged into it, ignoring the frightened grandmother's loud anger: "You little thing, you scared me to death."

I don't care. I just arch myself against Grandma with mud and snot. At this time, Grandma would always take my face in pain and reproach, take off the blue scarf from her head, carefully fold it up, embrace me in her arms, and wipe the dirt off my face.

At that time, the children were happy. Because there is such a blue scarf in her memory, no matter when she is helpless or tired, she can always see the scarf dancing in the distance, as if to tell the child, oh, nothing, grandma is here.

Grandma is too old to continue to work and grow cotton. The blue headscarf also came down with Grandma. It was carefully folded by Grandma and carefully pressed under the pillow, as if it was sealed together with the happy time of the child.

The year Grandma fell ill was the coldest year. When I went with my mother to visit her, it suddenly snowed heavily on the road. This sudden cold made my face white with cold.

When I arrived at my grandmother's house, my mother told me to be quiet. Now my grandmother needs a rest. But when I gently pushed the door, she felt as if she felt it, and was eager to sit up.

When Grandma was in a panic to persuade her to lie down, she suddenly saw my trembling expression. Grandma quickly put her hands around me and touched my cold hands. She could not help but scold her mother loudly, "Why don't you let the children wear thick clothes in such a cold day? How can you be a mother?"

My mother was a little overwhelmed, so I had to explain that it was not my mother's fault. This year, there was no cotton padded jacket made by Grandma, so it was cold.

But unexpectedly, this sentence pierced Grandma's pain. Her eyes darkened at once. She seemed to be ashamed and dissatisfied with herself. She closed her eyes and said slowly, "It's my old bone that can't play cotton anymore..."

The more I listened, the more I felt guilty, and a tear fell down.

When Grandma saw it, she quickly comforted me. In a panic, Grandma took out the blue scarf under the pillow and gently wiped my tears.

The anxious heart, unexpectedly, calmed down and gradually calmed down in Grandma's gentle wiping.

At this time, I was no longer the wild child running around the village, but I still curled up in her arms with my nose and tears, looking for warmth.

One day, when I was walking on the road, I suddenly saw a blue headscarf fluttering in a cotton field - I clearly knew that this working woman was not Grandma. But the familiar figure still encouraged me.

Just like, not far away, the old woman wearing a blue scarf, just like my grandmother when I was young, took me into her arms, covered with mud, with a runny nose, took off the scarf without hesitation, folded it carefully, and gently and affectionately wiped away my tears.