That day, I suddenly thought of the scene many years ago when my brother and I got up and had a fight in the morning. He put his smelly socks to my mouth, and I woke up with nausea. At that time, my grandma had passed away for a long time, but the gradually rising warmth enveloped me tightly, making it impossible for me to escape. I seem to see two children, from being innocent and cute when they were young, to being confused and then growing up. They have taken completely different paths in life, but they are also watered by love, family affection, friendship, and even a touch of love in youth. I think this story is warm enough and can overcome the confusion and emptiness that college brought me.
"Growing Up" is not a romance novel. In fact, I don't know what kind of novel it should be. Growing up, from boyhood to youth, from ignorance to maturity, I think can only be summarized by the word growth. "We must find something besides love that can make us stand strong on our feet." I think I am just writing a story that I still think of enough to smile and warm myself. I also hope more people like it.
This story has been imprinted on me, the imprint of my small hometown, and the imprint of love from the very beginning. I have a group of friends who grew up playing together, and of course I also have a small village that I still remember clearly. We spent the most precious childhood time here. The river, big trees, and even the former wheat straw stacks behind the village are the paradise in our memories. These are enough memory stops.
I just want to tell a story that touches me. A noisy but lonely coming-of-age story.