From as early as I can remember, I remember that every year on the eighth day of the twelfth month of the lunar calendar, my mother cooked Laha congee for us. The congee was made with glutinous rice, brown sugar and 18 kinds of dried fruits mixed together. Dried fruits in the large dates, cinnamon, walnuts, white fruit, almonds, chestnuts, peanuts, raisins and so on, small beans and sesame and so on, eat very sweet and delicious. Mother every year is to cook a big pot, not only the size of the family ate, there are more also sent to neighbors and friends and relatives. Mother said: this congee was originally a Buddhist temple cooked for the Buddha - eighteen kinds of dried fruit symbolizes the eighteen Luohan, and then this custom will be in the folk pass, because this opportunity to clean up the kitchen cabinet, the remaining fruit, cooked for the children to eat, but also a good way to save. Finally, she sighed and said: "My mother died on the day of the eighth day of the month, when I was only fourteen years old. After I crouched over her and wept bitterly, I rushed to the kitchen to make breakfast for my father and brother, and saw on the stove a small pot of Laba congee that she had cooked yesterday, and now I still cook this Laba congee every year, not to offer it to the Buddha, but to honor my mother." My mother died on January 7, 1930, which coincidentally was also the eighth day of the Lunar New Year! I had my own home by then, and in honor of my mother, I also cooked Laha congee on that day every year. Although I couldn't make up 18 kinds of dried fruits, my children loved it. After the war, we moved from north to south and sometimes abroad, especially in the last ten years, we hardly even have a "home", so we have forgotten the day of "Laha". This year, on the morning of the day of "Laha", I happened to see my third generation of several children, gathered around the table, washing jujubes, peeling peanuts, saw me, looked up and said: "Grandma, we will cook Laha congee every year to eat it! Mom said the congee was delicious. You used to cook it every year." I laughed, thinking that these children were really greedy. I said, "That was when your moms were little. During the war, it was rare to get a little sweet food, and eating Laba congee became a big deal. Why bother with that now?" They looked at each other and lowered their heads, and one of the children said softly, "Mother and Auntie said that your mother cooked Laba congee every year in honor of her mother, and you cooked Laba congee every year in honor of your mother. Now we are going to cook Laba congee every year in honor of our beloved Premier Zhou, Grandpa Zhou! These jujubes, peanuts, chestnuts, and as many beans as we can scrape together do not represent the Eighteen Luohan, but symbolize our generation of Chinese youths ready to take up all fronts of war, all tightly, harmoniously, and sweetly united ......" He took out a small sheet of neatly folded calendar paper from his pocket on one side, and wrote on the other. He took out from his pocket a small piece of neatly folded calendar paper, under the January 8, 1976, printed with the words "December 8 of the year B Mao of the lunar calendar". He brought this small piece of paper to my eyes and said, "Look, this is what mom kept. The anniversary of Grandpa Zhou's death is the 8th day of the 12th lunar month!" I didn't say anything, but only hyung lowered my head and peeled peanuts together with them. In the early morning of February 3, 1979