January a bitter wind swept the winter fields. the snow that fell yesterday turned into an ice sheet and glistened in the morning sun. so we, my wife, two children, an elder in the neighborhood, and boys and girls got off the 41 and crossed the street. and two elementary students called "father!" while running. in the blink of an eye, the door closed and the car fled. we waved and followed the van, but we couldn't help but sigh. for a while, we shrugged our shoulders and waved our hands as we walked. after a while, another empty car came out and fled to the village. i thought of my childhood as i walked along the rice fields. bloomed and willow branches were drooping, forsythia and in the summer, after catching carp and catfish and playing in the waver, smoke the chimney rises...now, there are no children and no new fish, and only ***** filth is overflowing in the riverbank where the plastic pieces of pesticide bottles have collapsed. moreover, uncle Tom, who was reputed to be good, become a drunkard with rotting legs, which he couldn't live without drinking for a day. i was immersed in these thoughts, but when i was attending public school, Richard, whom i carried his backpack every day, motioned for me to get on. but through our faces, i could see the Mary's grandmother standing alone at the entrance of the village today. we passed by and greeted her with wet eyes. grandmother's third granddaughter went up to New York to earn money and wandered around the big factory. nowadays, going to a bar or coffee shop for few years. since then, even though it is a holiday, she has not been able to return to her hometown. the love of a grandmother waiting for her pretty granddaughter to cross the mountain road.