Summer Vacation Without WIFI, but I Don't Want to Go Home

"Summer vacation without Wi-Fi, but I don't want to go home" On the first day of summer vacation, my parents "thrown" me into my grandfather's house in the countryside without Wi-Fi. The mobile phone signal was intermittent, and the battery of my tablet computer could not last for an afternoon. I thought desperately: this summer vacation is over. Grandpa didn't speak, he just knocked on my window gently every morning: "Let's go, I'll take you to a good place." He took me to the river to catch fish. The clear stream water reached up to my knees, and the slippery loaches escaped from my fingers. Grandpa laughed with wrinkles on his face. He took me to the vegetable garden to pick cucumbers. The melons that had just been twisted off the vine were still covered with yellow flowers. When I took a bite, my mouth was filled with sweetness - a taste you would never taste in the supermarket. He took me to watch the fireflies. In the grass at night, the lights were like a silent concert. Grandpa said: "These little guys only come in the cleanest summer." I started to forget about my cell phone. I followed my grandfather to learn how to weave grasshoppers, recognize wild vegetables in the fields, and listen to the chirping of cicadas and frogs to make the afternoon very long. I got to know Ah Huang the dog next door. He wags his tail and accompanies me to the canteen to buy popsicles every day. I even learned to boil water on a wood stove and watched the smoke mix into the sunset, dyeing the entire village warm orange. At the end of the summer vacation, my parents came to pick me up. The moment the car started, I turned around and saw my grandfather standing under the old locust tree waving to me, still holding the unfinished grasshopper in his hand. My nose suddenly became sore. During this summer vacation without Wi-Fi, my grandfather gave me his entire childhood back. And those days spent in the rice fields, under the stars, and in my grandfather's stories have become the most precious network that I can no longer connect to. Concept: In the countryside without Wi-Fi, the mobile phone signal is cut off, but the emotional connection between people is unprecedentedly smooth. Grandpa used the knock on the door in the morning, the loaches in the river, the cucumbers in the vegetable garden and the fireflies at night to reconnect the children with a real world that was shielded by urban life. It also says: The most precious childhood is often hidden in the slowest time. Those days of using wood stoves to boil water, watching the smoke blend into the sunset, and going to buy popsicles with the yellow dog are inefficient and unscheduled, but they are the most solid nutrients for children's growth. On a deeper level, it is a love letter to "forgotten childhood." When the children look back at the end of the summer vacation and see their grandfather standing under the old locust tree holding the unfinished grasshopper, the nostalgia of "not wanting to go home" actually means that what we really don't want to leave is the wild, curious, and steaming version of ourselves that was reawakened by grandpa.