All said give up. Why leave memories. Don't come back.

Since Dad's stomach was partially cut out, he can no longer enjoy his mom's fried eggs at the breakfast table. It was an unfortunate thing. Once, Su Yuanzhi even said to me, "It's strange, it's just fried eggs, why are yours so good?" The fragile shells of the eggs rattled gently on the edge of the pan, and because of the gentle movement, no one who heard it would associate it with "breaking into pieces". It was always at this moment that Mom would say to herself, "I hate dripping egg whites on the side of the pan." She probably didn't realize that she said this almost every time she fried an egg. The egg white was like a big, soft raindrop, dripping down with precision, hardened by the piping hot oil drops subsumed into a neat white snowflake. Mom didn't think the shape was round enough, so she gently rested the shape around the edge with a spatula, as if she was making a sculpture, and the bright yolks trembled faintly with crystal. Then Mom turned them over just right, not a step too early and not a step too late.

Sometimes Dad would say in a very aggrieved tone, "Just let me have one, just one, just for today, my stomach is better ......" Mom retorted back like a queen, without anger, " Don't even think about it." Then she started to show off by sharing the perfect omelet with everyone, me, my brother, herself, and sometimes little Shelby - inexplicably, Shelby now often stays overnight, why else, her sister must have a new boyfriend; and of course, Grandma.

It's been two weeks since Grandma came to us. Mom says that Grandma's birthday is coming up soon, and according to the Gregorian calendar, she should be 79 years old. But Grandma doesn't look like that at all. Although her hair is all white, she looks like a beautiful old person and likes to wear big red sweaters. Only, her memory and IQ have rapidly deteriorated into that of a small child within the past two years.

She sat nicely at the table, carefully studying the dishes in front of her. Dad carefully settled her portion of fried eggs in front of her, and she lifted her face and smiled at him with a wrinkled face, "Thank you." Dad smiled almost a little shyly, "What are you thanking-" Then Grandma politely asked Dad, "May I ask you- what is your name? " She always asked her dad this question every day, and he could only answer her every day with a tearful smile, "I am Nan Nan's dad."

Sometimes she would persistently add: "Oh, Nanan's father, what is your surname?" Once little uncle very humorous instead of dad replied, "He ...... exempt your surname Zheng, I also." Then pointed to his brother and said, "She is also the same surname Zheng, you do not need to ask." Grandma nodded in satisfaction, "Such a coincidence."

But she would ask again by the next day, or even a few hours later. Once again, Papa Shan replied helplessly, "I'm Nan Nan's father," and she encountered a new confusion: "Nan Nan?" "Don't you even remember Nan Nan?" Dad said, "Nan Nan is your granddaughter."

"Who says I don't remember." Her pride was damaged and she changed her serious expression, "Our Nan Nan is not out of school yet, she is in the fourth grade and has grown taller than many small children." Having said that, she didn't forget to smile at me beside her. The most direct loss to be caused by her memory loss is that - she refused to give me the New Year's red envelope because her red envelope was ready to give to "Nan Nan", she was persistent, but the red envelope stuffed into Shelby, probably Shelby's height is more in line with her understanding of The impression of "fourth grade Nan Nan".

Sometimes I try to imagine what the world looks like in my grandmother's eyes today. She lives in a ...... group of people she knows for a while, and then she doesn't know, and then she seems to know them before, and she doesn't feel the least bit frightened? It doesn't matter to her if she can't figure out where everyone is from. When she patiently asks for each person's "surname", she will ask who she is. Just like at the breakfast table now, she seems to be a first-time guest every day, but how come she is still so comfortable?

She seriously took a bite of the fried egg, then seriously looked at her brother who was sitting right across from her, and said seriously, "Yummy." That expression was as different from Bei Bei's, just like trusting the sun rises and the moon sets, trusting us, the strangers.

Mom came out of the kitchen and walked over to her. She looked up, remembered what she had just told her brother without telling Mom, and repeated with force, "Yummy, Ling Ling." The only person she recognized, the only one who could never be called by the wrong name anymore, was my mother. "Mom," my mother patiently leaned down slightly, "would you like red date tea or white rice porridge?"

Grandma seemed to hear only the first half of the sentence and read uneasily, "Red date tea, I want some."

"Third Aunt." These days, at the dinner table, whenever he opened his mouth to speak, I would be especially nervous - I thought he was going to bring up the matter of moving out with mom, but I didn't know what I would do if that happened. I'll go get it."

I secretly breathed a sigh of relief, brother, you can not let people worry a little bit?

I used to think that my brother was a man of his word no matter what. It seems that there is an idiom called "words must be done", right? I don't know if my grandmother's illness is hereditary, but when I live to be that old, will I also forget everything as she did? Will I forget that September night last year? If I forget about that day, it is the same as I forgot about Zheng Nanyin at any time, I have forgotten about Zheng Nanyin at any time, so who have I become? That's amazing. How did Grandma do that? --I was just thinking about what I was thinking about, why did it come to Grandma - who was innocently drinking her red date tea. It's always the same, I always have to think with all my might to greet some of the first thoughts. That's right, I want to talk about the early morning of last September.

That night was as long as the track at the 800-meter test. My brother was drunk, and he was going through a disaster that no one could imagine; for me, too, because I was the only spectator. I was on pins and needles watching her pain without saying a word, and I had tried to repeat over and over again, "Brother I don't care if you're a hug, I don't care about the blood kind of shit ......" He glared at me and said fiercely, " Shut up and be quiet."

So I had to meekly rejoin the audience and quietly watch him drink his way to total unconsciousness. Tormented, minute by minute, looking forward to the curtain cold hurry down. But the heart also vaguely flashed a thought: you ah, only to me, only brutal to me to say "shut up" - you to your enemies to settle accounts ah, why to face her, you dare not say anything. I mean, Dongni-san. --But forget it, it's come to this, what else do I care about?

I know that since my sister did not hesitate to say what she should not say, she is also very difficult, and she is also suffering - I believe that people will be broken by the wrong things they did, the feeling of being hurt by themselves, even worse than after being hurt by others. But I don't pity her. Because she is someone who is forever forgiving herself - well, I'm one of those people, always getting into trouble while secretly permitting myself to do so in my heart. But the brother is different.

Maybe in this family, no, in this world, only I know how hard my brother is on himself.

No matter what others do, he can find reasons for them, probably because he understands their weaknesses too well. But treating his weaknesses, he is always like treating a cigarette butt lying on the sidewalk smoking, without hesitation to stomp it out. He simply treats himself as someone else and treats others as himself.

I stood helplessly in the living room of my sister's house, watching her yell at him - who let me have the key to her house too, and I heard the fight going on inside from outside the door that day. I gently opened the door and slipped inside, really not wanting to interrupt that scene - my sister argues wonderfully and is very watchable. I have to admit that her play that day was more of a diva level.

"Are you for heaven's sake? May I ask who you are speaking on behalf of now? You're not doing it for the heavens, are you?"

"The real wild child in this family is not me, it's you, Zheng Xiu. It's the illegitimate son that Grandma and the others bought back at the hospital for eighty-five dollars to save Grandpa's life." "You now know why the second uncle died the second aunt also does not want to live, because she and you have no relationship at all ......"

"Life is like this, you have done nothing already confused hands stained with blood, you are not as innocent as you think you are, stop laughing with me at fifty steps!"