There, fill up the memory

There, fill up the memory

There used to be such a place, circling my laughter, haunting my heart. There used to be a place with the most beautiful scenery in the world, filling my memory.

There, the most beautiful sunshine

There, I have the most beautiful sunshine in my memory.

Every day, the "Oops" sound of the old door gently buckled me out of my sleep, licking my eyes and looking out the window. I don’t know when the dull moonlight shines silently on a silver hair, and the silver hair flutters in the night with the wind. I watched my grandmother stand with a cane standing in front of the window, watching the more silvery hair in the moonlight gradually fade into a faint golden yellow. I sat up, pushed open the window, stretched out my hand, and naughtyly pulled my grandmother's hair. Grandma turned her head and reached out and pinched my little face. I opened my mouth and smirked at Grandma. Looking up, the sun made me pick up my eyes, squatting in front of the window like a kitten, quietly enjoying the most beautiful sunshine.

There, moist soil

There, there is the moist soil in my memory.

During the day, I always like to carry a small bamboo basket, wandering in the woods to find the flowers that I can't put down. And the rain there is always very annoying. The soil after the rain is always moist. If you accidentally embroider the small flowers, it will stick black and black soil, which is very ugly. Every time the upper is dirty, I always use the branches to set the dirt up. It seems that I can vent my resentment. Nowadays, the city is full of concrete, and there is no wet soil after the rain, and the upper will not be dirty. But after the rain, I always miss the moist soil that stuck to my upper surface after the rain, and missed the earthy smell that made me resentful in my memory.

There, the quietest night

There, I still have the quietest night in my memory.

On the nights of the country, there are no neon lights and no horns. It is always so quiet and so beautiful. Moonlight gently slammed into my face through the window paper, I can imagine how peaceful the little face was at that time. On a quiet night, I dreamed of an elf flying in the night sky.

There, filled with memory

There, not only the most beautiful sunshine in my memory, but also the moist soil in memory, the quietest night in memory. And my dream childhood. In that most beautiful memory, I filled in too many memories. There are the most beautiful scenery, the most beautiful laughter, and the deepest and deepest thoughts. Once, I thought I could live there forever and carefree. I thought I could have my grandmother who would accompany me forever. But now, these past forever are just the most beautiful memories I have there. There, filled with memories, entangled in thoughts, filled with thoughts, let me cherish everything I have now.

The third day: watermelon son Wanan