A Home Only Women: When She's Lonely

Lola
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IPFS
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The cutest old man in the world is no longer a smiling fairy tale symbol. When captured, the contrasting images merge into one and form a complete person. Our grandmother, she never eats alone when she is happy, and hides her sadness with a door when she is lonely.
Peter Davis

Recently, I often go to my grandmother's house. Every morning I cycle through the forest, and I see a golden sky rising from the lush grass on the high ground, suddenly brightening. So all the way to my grandmother's house was in a particularly bright mood, and I secretly felt that it was a more important part of life.

In fact, there was also an opportunity because my grandfather was hospitalized, and my grandmother was very lonely. Recently, the rheumatic pain has occurred again. The family took turns to take care of her, cook for her, and talk to her.

But after that day, I thought about my grandma from time to time. Is she lonely at home alone? I wonder if the pain is so painful that I can't sleep at night, if I eat well, or if I worry too much about my grandpa. In the past two years, her legs and feet have gotten worse and worse. I heard from Ah Chuan that she used to be able to go out to buy groceries and go shopping for clothes, but now she basically doesn't go downstairs or walk around, and she can't even stand at home for a long time.

When we parted with my grandmother that day, she watched us leave and kept standing at the door refusing to return. I said, grandma, go and take a nap. Her eyebrows tightened, showing a helpless look, as if she was talking to something farther away: yes, what are you going to do if you don't go to sleep, you can't go anywhere now. It sounded sad and unfamiliar, it was not an ordinary easily recognizable expression, maybe it had appeared before, but because it was too unfamiliar and short to be captured, it soon disappeared without a trace.

This time it was finally my turn, and I stood at the door and refused to leave. As my grandmother closed the door, I suddenly felt a burst of regret and wanted the door to be reopened, just like when I came, she opened it with a smile on her face, with an expression on her face that I've seen countless times, it's easy to identify. expectations. But at this very moment, across a door, it sealed a lost heart that we had no time to react to.

The cutest old man in the world seems to be no longer a smiling fairy tale symbol. The two contrasting images finally merged into one when they were captured, forming a complete person. Our grandmother, a person who can have happiness, but also sadness. When she's alone, she knows how to use a door to hide her grief.

Before that, we may have overlooked that we thought that we seemed to have done our best, tried our best, worked diligently, and made sure to give her happiness - confident enough to even cross "happy". We just feel that we can give her happiness, our children will start a family, our children and grandchildren will grow up, as long as we live well, she will definitely be happy because of this. But that is actually the happiness of being a "grandmother". It is conceivable that she has always said this for so many years, but I think besides that, she will still have her own sorrows and troubles, and she will have her own thoughts.

For example, the biggest trouble in front of her is that her grandfather is hospitalized. She is at home alone. Although she has children and grandchildren who often come to take care of her, she still cannot comfort her lonely feelings. Don't forget that the person who has accompanied her the most over the years has always been her partner, and they may rarely be separated like this, especially in their later years, when they stay together 24 hours a day.

I imagine that my grandmother has a lot to say, so I hope I can spend some time with her. But now that I think about it, I feel that if my grandfather was around, maybe she wouldn't need to talk so much, because her heart was calm, she wouldn't be as worried as she is now, and she wouldn't have such endless words. They talk in their own way, perhaps one heart will tell another what it thinks, not necessarily through words, as they have been used to over the years.

On the way back from cycling, we passed the traffic lights and entered the forest again. We saw that the golden light on the grass had disappeared, the sky had become clean and blue, and the oleanders on both sides of the road, because of the abundant rain, the slender branches had already jumped out. The shrubs next to it are even taller, but not a single flower is blooming. Only the low crape myrtle tree has quietly budded. When we meet again, it is already full of pink and purple, even brighter than the sunset.

On the way, I sat in the back seat of the electric car and talked about my grandmother. I remembered her lonely eyes, and my eyes were moist, so I couldn't talk anymore.

Later, Ah Chuan smiled and comforted, "My grandmother, why are you crying?" I thought about it for a while and told him that I don't think feelings are accumulated over time, but by imagination.

My feelings are made up of imagination. For me, the past that my grandmother told me and the pain she talked about, I seem to have seen it with my own eyes, or experienced it together. She was sad and I was sad, so I thought about what would make her happy. It was this willingness that drove me. Even if my feelings were just imitations at first, and so on and on, they would become real here.


(1) mother's name

(2) The season of picking bacteria

CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

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Lola来自边疆地区的年轻人。现居东京,委托请联系: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdcriKYUWR_BBA-61lNIQnLkcWDLYIlmWAFNbO3Tzx8KmJtJg/viewform
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