After graduating from college, a man came to Shanghai on his own, without a place to live, without a stable job. With a lone courage and blind optimism, I bought a bus ticket and barged into the magic city with a big suitcase. After hiding in a youth apartment for a few days to cast a resume, tasted countless frustrations, finally put down the so-called pride, contacted the aunt who settled in Shanghai.
The day I went there, the weather was very cold.
My aunt poured me a cup of coffee and took a lot of snacks to serve. Suddenly, as if remembering something, she pulled out a jar from under the coffee table and looked like she was sharing a treasure: “This is your grandmother’s dried sweet potatoes, brought back during the New Year. Little aunt’s craft is really no words, I still like this very hard dried sweet potatoes, other places can not buy, you eat. “
I picked up a piece, just like when I was a child, eat exactly the same, in the mouth, slightly sweet.
When I was a child living in the countryside, the whole summer to hold a jar of dried sweet potatoes to watch the “also Zhuge Ge”. Grandpa went out to work, and grandma spent the whole day around the stove, the yard and me. In the morning, she cooked breakfast for me, then went to feed the chickens and dogs, and came back to prepare the lunch until almost noon. There were many vegetables growing in the village, and my grandmother would stand at the door and ask me loudly what I wanted to eat, while I was immersed in the drama and hummed perfunctorily. She ignored me and ran off to cut the tenderest greens and make me rice cake soup to eat.
After eating, Grandma took a short break to watch Little Swallow and Ziwei with me. One time, someone called me at home, and the volume of the TV was so loud that my grandmother, who was already deaf, could not hear what the caller was saying while standing next to the TV. The TV was turned off in a fit of anger, and I was instantly bawling when I was spoiled. Grandmother hurriedly put down the phone, turned on the TV, hugged me and kept coaxing, but I still kept crying and crying, and finally she also shed tears of pain.
When I think of these things, it’s like eating dried sweet potatoes she made. I had to wait slowly until the dried potatoes were softened in my mouth before I could taste it.
When I was older, I watched her busy cooking and cooking, and I always thought I had to learn all her skills quickly.
As soon as the sweet potatoes were dug up, my brothers and I would look forward to my grandmother making dried sweet potatoes every day.
But Grandma still proceeded without haste, selecting sweet potatoes, washing them, cutting them, steaming them in a pot, slicing them, laying them on a bamboo wick and putting them on the second floor balcony to dry. This set down, it takes several days of work. A few of us, the younger ones, acted as helpers around grandma for a while, and then mischievously stole the dried sweet potatoes just out of the pot. Grandma never scolded me, but always shooed my brother around, while scolding the rabbits.
Later, I went to college outside, but my grandmother always wanted me to stay with her, I did not want to, or fluttered away from her sight. The day before I left, my grandmother still burned a lot of good food, but finally only let me take away a packet of dried sweet potatoes. She sighed and urged me to eat well, not to eat anything in order to save money, call back and say what you want to eat, and then go back and cook it all for me to eat. At that time the heart was sour, but still righteous.
When I came to Shanghai this time, my grandmother did the same. Cooked a big table of good food, while giving me dishes, while sighing in silence. Before leaving, the same old three sentences, eat more, don’t be afraid to spend money, take care of yourself. She can never say anything big, the big things are decided by grandpa, dad or even me, she is responsible for accepting.
From the aunt’s home, it was late at night. I still had a few dried sweet potatoes in my hand, chewing slowly in the empty subway.
Thinking of my grandmother waiting at home, and thinking of my grandfather, who always looked at me kindly, my heart was still sour. But grown up birds of prey have to get used to migrating.
People will go, memories will remain, familiar dried sweet potatoes will always help me remember, the taste of my grandmother.
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