This was the first time I visited my grandfather in the hospital. There he was, unconscious, lying on a hospital bed. Him there makes the entire city seem strange. My mom told me that grandpa’s blood vessels were completely blocked, and thus, the strokes occurred. I gaze at this old man’s face. It somehow seems a little unfamiliar. I see the wrinkles on his cheeks and the thinning hair. These are the scars ruthlessly left by time.

In my memory, Grandpa is a prominent person. My childhood was not typical. I do not have lots of memories of my  parents. Because of work, they always had to travel,and I would be left alone at home. I used to stayed with a babysitter who took me to school and picked me up, who cooked for me and took care of my everyday needs. When I grew up a little bit, she could not accompany me anymore. So my grandparents were the ones who stayed with me when my parents were not home. I still remembered how excited I was when my grandparents came to see me and how heartbreaking it was every single time they departed.

I remember when I was still in the elementary school, and my grandparents came all the way from another province to visit me. Walking with periodic patterns, standing with a steady position, and laughing with a resonant voice, Grandpa was very energetic then. There weren’t so many wrinkles on his face. Every morning he took me to have breakfast outside before sending me to school. Dumplings, noodles and soy milk were the foods we ordered  most. I was a typical picky-eater. And sooner or later the smell of delicious dumplings lost their original allure and could no longer attract me. So Grandfather subtly tried different kinds of food to increase my appetite. The path from that restaurant to school also had a bakery on it. The bakery scented the air with the pervasive sweetness of wheat. The smell attracted me, and I stopped in front of the big bakery window and stared at all the different kinds of breads and cakes. Even though I was young enough to let people think that I have no understanding of how to maneuver to achieve my desires, the cakes through the window, shining under the light, inspired me to behave differently. I sat down right on the ground, in the spot where I noticed the presence of delicate cakes and pointed at them with a tiny finger, then smiled up at my grandfather. He shook his head “But that is the reason why you have bad teeth. You eat too much sweet food. Your parents have strictly forbidden me to give you any desserts.”  I stopped smiling. I frowned and pointed again at the cakes. I knew that under my persistent intransigency, my grandfather wouldn’t reject my request forever. Eventually he would come to a compromise with me. “How about I have a half and you have the other?”Grandpa asked after a little hesitation. Now I was satisfied, and I gave Grandpa the big smile I had saved up for this moment. “But don’t tell anyone else,” he warned.. I cannot recall clearly to mind the expressions on my grandfather’s face then, but the feeling of his love and the delicious trick make a permanent memory. I put the secret between grandfather and me deep in my heart where it will last a lifetime. This dessert not only represents the happiness and sweetness of my childhood, but also the one who made such happiness possible.

When I return to Shanghai after this visit, a sad mood haunts me. One day a thought appears and forces me to walk that path again. I reminisce. My face suddenly blushes or blanches as I relive the memory of breakfasts, cakes, my grandfather... I enter and sit down at the old breakfast restaurant where we two spent a period of our lives. Dumplings are still steamed alluringly, filled with a perfect ratio of meat and soup inside; noodles are neither too hard nor too soft, enriching the taste; the all-pervading fragrance of bread still scents the air;, but the person who accompanied me in my childhood may not come back with me again. Now this memory lives only while it lives in me.