Grandma, Happy Mid-Autumn Festival

It’s time for the Mid-Autumn Festival, and it’s time to eat moon cakes. I should have been sitting together for dinner, but I always feel that I am missing one person. It was her, the wrinkled face who still laughed with me; the old man who was declining but encouraged me to run forward. It is grandma!

I still remember when I was young, in the big winter, you took my little hand and walked from the street to the end of the street. When you were not far away, you would encounter a street vendor. And when it comes to the end of the street, there will be dozens of sellers selling roasted sweet potatoes. Going there, the smell of roasted sweet potatoes surrounds me and leads me to drool. You met, first pulled me, and then bought a baked sweet potato. I didn't know that you deliberately brought me here. Later, I knew that you were distressed at the time, but when I saw this kind of touch, I bought a one.

Grandma will always peel off the sweet potato skin and send it to my mouth. The hot sweet potato is spread out in my body with a happy warmth, and the sweet taste is on my tongue. I smiled happily and you laughed.

But just last year, you fainted at home and your eyes never opened. I cried, made trouble, depressed, and can't change this fact. I can only bury my past and your past in my heart and keep it in my heart.

Now, every household has a happy Mid-Autumn Festival. What about Grandma? Do you stand on the high clouds and watch me grow up, or hide behind a low-flying cloud, cover the body with dense clouds, and accompany me to grow up little by little.

The third day: laughing paper machine