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I haven't returned to the small courtyard that once brought me joy. I haven't seen the strain of the wisteria that still keeps the grandmother warm. This year, I went back to my hometown, standing in the courtyard of the autumn wind, watching the leaves of the garden, and the vines and branches of the vines in the corner of the wall. Looking at the gardens that once had a flowery appearance, they are now in the cold wind of late autumn. Shivering, I suddenly felt that time could change so much. Even though time flies, the wisteria flower in the corner of the wall has turned into a spring mud in front of my eyes, and it is difficult to trace it. However, it is conceivable that in the early summer, the string of purple flowers and flowers are still full of branches. I still never knew what "the thing is human beings" before, but all of this was changed to the grandmother after the grandmother died, and the wisteria is her most treasured treasure. Because that was the grandfather planted with her, the grandmother is so cherished by the wisteria, just like the child who loves her. Since she died a few years ago, she has loved this company and witnessed her love for her husband for decades. When I was young, my favorite besides my grandmother was the wisteria Newport Cigarettes Coupons. In the summer Carton Of Cigarettes, my grandmother will sit under the vine flower, gently rocking the recliner, laughing and beckoning to let me sit on her knees, and let me watch the sky over and over again, watching the stars and telling me the story of "The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl". Her grandmother's education is not high. However, she still does her best to decorate her story in the most vivid and rich language, which is different every time. Listening to the kind voice, and counting the stars twinkle in the sky, I always listen with relish, and then my grandmother embraces in my arms and sleeps sweetly. The faint wisteria will always make me feel good. I can't remember the story of my grandmother's story when I was a child. Only the quiet flower, the kind voice, and the grandmother always look like a smiling face mokingusacigarettes.com, but stay in my heart in my dreams. I often dream. See the wisteria in the childhood, the string of flowers pours down like a purple waterfall. In that purple-rendered dream, the grandmother's face is faintly visible, the smile of love and the wisteria that is watered by love, and my heart is filled with love forever, so that my memory will always be the wisteria. The fragrance is lingering, so I can't forget my grandmother, and I can't forget the wisteria.
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