Grandmother always held the cat in her hand silently, leaning against the back of the bamboo chair, and quietly staring at the door that was not often opened. The leaves and flowers of locust trees falling with the wind are helpless to contrast the old and thin figure of grandmother. In memory, it is a beautiful and sad silhouette, although it seems lonely. There is an old locust tree in the center of the yard. The twigs of the curved and curved branches are interlaced, occasionally leaking out a light piece of sunshine. Layers of old trees are covered in the trunk, quietly depicting the traces of years. A big cat falters under the old locust tree, searches, and then lies down safely next to an old bamboo chair. The big cat occasionally looks up to see the sunlight that is leaking from the bottom of the leaves of the locust tree. Most of the time, however, it was only looking at some broken debris in a peaceful way, and seemed very quiet. If its owner is still there, it will probably be more lively. Just, my grandmother died last year. Before her life, grandmother often carried a bamboo chair and a big cat. Tottering under the old locust tree. Grandmother likes to hold the cat in her body, combing the hair of the cat, and calling the name of the cat: "Mimi, Mimi..." Cats also look very nice in grandma's arms. He used his wet tongue naughtily to lick grandmother's old face, rough fingers. At this time, I always hear my grandmother laughing in the yard and scolding: "Mimi, you little naughty, I know that I hurt people." However, most of the time, grandmother always silently held the cat in her hand, leaning against the back of the bamboo chair, and staring quietly at the door that was not often opened. The leaves and flowers of locust trees falling with the wind are helpless to contrast the old and thin figure of grandmother. In memory, it is a beautiful and sad silhouette, although it seems lonely. When it's OK, grandma often caresses Mimi and sits in the shade of the locust tree and speaks to herself. The cat also tilted its ears curiously, squinting as if it were listening carefully. Only when grandma talks about a paragraph, she breaks away from her arms and runs out of the yard and goes to the world that belongs to her. Then, it will come to grandma, who is full of sad sighs: "Oh, even you don't care about me." After that, grandma would sit there for a long time, silent, not to say a word, only let the muddy tears gradually climb her face. The flowers of the locust are dissolved again. Little by little, scattered stamens soon climbed over grandmother's white head. Last year, my grandmother died. I remember my grandparents, my peers, all crowded in a small ward, looking at the pale grandmother in the bed. All the people were crying, and only grandmother looked at us calmly. After a long time, grandmother seemed to have exhausted her last breath of strength, squeezed out a smile, and drilled a few words from the seam of her teeth: "you are all here, I am relieved." Then, grandmother closed her eyes permanently, and she was wailing in the ward. Grandmother's departure was a great success. At least, it won't seem as lonely as it is under the locust tree. Later, when the parents were sorting out the grandmother's remains, they found a wooden box wrapped in layers of rags. In front of all, my uncle pryed the lock on the wooden box. There are some jewelry that grandma used when she was young. In addition, there is a yellow picture of a hairy side foot, on which is a young man in white. I suddenly remembered that, some day many years ago, under the old locust tree, my grandmother told me such a deeply and slightly sad story. "In a distant place, there used to be a girl," she said. The story happened when she was 18. " When I came to this place, my grandmother stopped suddenly and looked up at the sky. After a while, grandma went on, "it was one day in the summer, and she saw the young man in white from the door slit with a red face. Later, she knew that he had come to raise his relatives. At night, after he left, her father asked her if she promised? She said nothing, but nodded in red. " Grandmother stopped, and the stiff wrinkles on her face softened in the moment, and a warm and peaceful glow came out. "Later, the date of meeting relatives arrived? She left her home in the tears and farewell of her mother. Only when she arrived at the man's house, she found that she was not the young man in white, but his big brother, a hunchback farmer She was desperate, even the chapel was held up... ". Only later, my grandmother lived with the humped farmer. Later, I had my father and I was born.