The weather is getting colder and colder, and I caught a cold again.

Leaning on the deck chair on the balcony, I enjoyed the rare silence amidst the gold scattered everywhere under the afternoon sun.

This silence is indeed rare.

This city has been wrapped in the shiny, exquisite and gorgeous steel and concrete, and the steel beetles all over the streets are like cockroaches that are good at breeding, galloping in the embrace of steel.

Whenever I think of this, I miss my grandma's old house: far away from the hustle and bustle of the city, it stubbornly retains its original roughness. There is a crystal clear river in the backyard, where you can see small crabs waving their claws in the fine sand. There is a hanging star

The large banyan tree with countless roots stirs up memories of my childhood.

I used to be ignorant of sentimentality and laugh as much as I wanted, but now my grandfather has passed away, my sisters and brothers have gone to work, and only my grandma and uncles and aunts are left in the old house, which seems to have lost the breath of memory.

I recalled the smell of roasted sweet potatoes, the surprise of encountering beautiful mountain lilies, and the pigeons on the roof carrying melodious whistles to return home on time every day, and told myself that I could be grateful if I had this before.

Those moments with sweet smiles always settle in my heart tenderly.

Now that I can still enjoy this short period of silence, I can be grateful.

The sister who studies piano next door plays a piece of piano music. Although it breaks the silence, it is also so gentle that people can't help but smile. Smile at the bouncing of these lovely notes and the liveliness on the broken gold.

If you listen carefully, it turns out to be Horowitz's "Sonata".

I remember someone said that the only person in the world who can really "play" the piano is Lao Huo.

Yes, he has been living alone in a foreign country for 70 years. How much sorrow, pain and hatred can be used as an opportunity to escape from the shackles of Soviet dogmatic music education, and can be transformed into such relief and open-mindedness, such liveliness and joy.

Light!

While feeling emotional, I guessed that he must have a heart that knows how to be grateful for life.

No matter whether it is accidental luck or a lot of bitterness and pain, it can be integrated into the musical notes between his fingers, which complements his unique European high nose bridge, large nostrils and expressionless face.

There is also Mozart. The hardship and helplessness of life made him indulge in luxury and entertainment, but he never relaxed his persistence in music. His music is also so innocent.

What does it rely on?

Maybe when they are making music, all they can think about is the beauty of life, and all they can do is be grateful.

Not only did I recite Su Dongpo's words "When I go back, there will be neither wind nor rain", but I also recited Yuan Zhen's "Once upon a time, the sea was difficult to make water, except for Wushan, it was not clouds." These open-mindedness and relief should all come from gratitude, otherwise history will give

They have so many injustices, who can bear them?

Who is calling me?

Oh, mother.

It turns out I fell asleep.

It was getting dark.

My mother brought me a bowl of vegetable porridge made from vegetable leaves and minced meat. It was so hot that I broke out in a sweat after eating it, and my illness became much better.

Cold medicine ranged from Tylenol to crack, but the only constant medicine was this bowl of porridge boiled into my mother's earnest heart.

And this word "boil", how can it be said that instant noodles and milk powder in today's era can be brewed in one go?

My mother looked at me eating porridge with a smile on her face, and the sunset dyed her face and back red.

Then I remembered that I fell asleep in the sunshine, and I felt very happy.

I think this is gratitude.