Grandma's Stone Bench

By Huang Deying, Class 6, Junior Three, Shunde No.1 Middle School Experimental School, Shunde District, Foshan, Guangdong

Walking down that deep, quiet alley, passing two or three tiled-roof houses, you come to a little stone house, before which a stone bench sits in silence.

That house was my grandmother's, and on that stone bench my quiet grandmother would often sit.

Almost every time I came to Grandma's house, I would find her sitting on that stone bench — sometimes chatting with others, sometimes simply lost in thought, or watching the people and vehicles pass at the mouth of the alley.

Every time, I would sit on that bench, take Grandma's hand and chat about everyday things. Mostly I asked and she answered, and now and then we would talk about delicious snacks. At such moments I felt that the happiest thing in life is to find a quiet place to sit down with your dearest kin and talk until the setting sun vanishes without a trace.

But I was usually busy with schoolwork and often could not come to see her, and Grandma came to believe that I no longer visited. According to our neighbor Aunt Wang, Grandma would bring some candies every day and sit on the stone bench, gazing at the mouth of the alley as if searching for something. Whenever footsteps sounded, she would stand up to take a look, then sit back down and stare at the candies in her hand.

Because of this, I begged my father every week to take me back to the old house. Grandma was always overjoyed at our return; she would cook delicious dishes and then sit on the stone bench, quietly awaiting us. Each time I stepped out of the car, I would run to her, take her callus-covered hand and lead her to the table, ready to begin the hearty feast.

Happy times are always short. When I was in primary school, Grandma suddenly suffered a stroke and then developed dementia. The moment school let out, I would rush to see her. Pushing open the door, I would find Grandma lying on the white hospital bed, much thinner than before; when I asked her questions, she could no longer make sense of most things.

After Grandma returned to the old house, illness confined her to bed most of the time; she seldom moved about and was often drowsy. Then one day, Grandma never got out of bed again, and that stone bench was gradually forgotten.

This autumn, having not been home for a long while, I returned to the little stone house. Suddenly I caught sight of the stone bench: it was covered in thick dust and dense spiderwebs, with fallen leaves drifted all around. Leaves swept down by the autumn wind had piled into small heaps beside the bench, and some lay scattered on it. I gently patted it a few times, brushing away the dust, spider silk and leaves. The instant my hand touched the bench, its icy cold startled me out of my drowsiness, and the autumn wind drifting past made it colder still.

As I left the old house, I gazed once more at the stone bench; sorrow welled up in my heart and tears fell softly. I turned away, leaving behind a long, receding figure — only that lonely stone bench remained, keeping watch for the one who would return.

(Supervising teacher: Wu Mingqiang)