Fragments of the memory

 Grandpa is in a winter of death, that year I was in primary school in the village. The morning I open the gate, a cold wind of thorn mingled with snow call to me, I can't help but hit a chill. Outside has become another scene, the whole world was wrapped in the silvery white space.
I wear a mother for me cotton-padded jacket and trousers, stepping on each of her to make me go out, on both sides of the hill and trees are put on white cotton-padded jacket, the river on the thick ice also ", hua hua of water flowing in under the ice, and sometimes ice to slip into the cold water, disappeared in the cold winter. I stepped on thick snow to the school's direction, the way no pedestrians, only I alone whistling in cold wind, and from my school shortage km journey, but in the morning I feel that I go the way of many times in my feet was so long.
After the two lessons I will be home to eat breakfast, at this time of day is still in the snow drift, showed no inclination to clear meaning, but the way out of a lot of pedestrians, also left a messy footprints. When I go home when the door met mother, mother tell my grandpa to, when I heard the news flash, like my heart is heavy on what a phone, tears streamed with a stick in the face of the snow, into the tears of sadness together leave to my mouth, confuse is water or tears. I didn't eat breakfast is the mother took her to the grandpa lives of the old house, over there, there have already crowded with people, when I packed into the crowd, looking at a still lay grandpa in that piece of I am familiar with the bed, his father and his brothers kneeling in the bed and hyperventilate again, I can't help left tears.
I have the impression of my grandfather is a burly but gaunt old man. He has a very serious bronchitis and asthma, each step with cough, he take very ill, often have to back gas. Look at my grandpa was thinner indisposition suffers the body, the childhood I have a simple ideal, and that is to be a doctor for grandpa remove sickness.
Grandpa's coffin in home stopped three days, with swirl snow buried in his familiar with the piece of land. Buried that day, it snowed, snow and bone-chilling winds dozen people face, very painful. But the body of the pain is what, in the heart of pain is the most outrageous, that is a dull ache.
On the way back in the snow has, I think they are in for grandpa's away sorrow! Maybe grandpa had gone to heaven, because in heaven has no sickness torture only joy, I seem to see grandpa that kind-looking face in to my smile, and seen the grandpa there pray, I want to grandpa must be in for the next generation of his blessing, hope they always happy happy life.
The seat of my childhood bearing the old houses were knocked down, that year I only eleven years old. Not long after his father laid the foundation of the earth in it built a new house. From then on, all of my childhood memory is always buried in the ruins under, I can only in a dream and my childhood in hand.
The old house is in my hands of the cover. How much it about grandpa sorrows and the suffering of the story we already can't understand, because they with grandpa die into the history forever foam and vanished.
In my memory if the old house compared to an old man, that will be a grey, a vicissitudes of the age old man. The mottled wall and bumpy ground, and that the roof of the mossy already shows that all, walked into the inside, can feel the bunch of beam of sunlight from the roof of the crack down diarrhea, like a city full of big stage. But on a rainy day a to make up the sorrow, the naughty little water drop will in succession from the stream down in the gaps, the ground and bed will leave traces of the rain. This is, my father and I will find lots of bottle container canister on leak rain place, listening to the rain drip-drip-drip hug each other waiting for the next morning.
The old house I have witnessed the childhood beautiful, also I have witnessed the childhood every bit of way. My childhood will also with the old house of aging and never lose day by day. The old house, though it has ceased to exist, but he pretend grandpa life story, also pack all of my childhood, I won't because it disappeared, and forget, it will be always cherish forever in my memory deep out cold storage.
In I was 13, father bought a house in the county. From then on, the old house in my life disappeared, until I haven't grandpa's death can back there to see it last time.
The old house didn't, I the memory of his childhood as it to a good long. I will not see the face of it, but it has turned into a cloud, and it will be in heaven for my blessing prayer.
Oh, go to, the old house! There, my childhood!