Grandpa's coughing epiphany

In my childhood, coughing can be said to be commonplace, because I slept in a bed with my grandfather, every day in his thunderous cough to meet the new dawn, to avoid is not able to avoid, and from the idea of avoiding.

Grandpa was a volunteer soldier, only know that he was frostbitten on the Korean battlefield, specifically which battle, did not hear him talk about. Perhaps he did not want to say, perhaps he said and my young mind did not care, in any case, that part of history through time and space, and again in this year's coughing to evoke memories of my childhood.

This year, my daughter just graduated from college, during the National Day, our family of five people walked along the Yangpu Riverfront ten kilometers, the child finally a little bit unable to hold on, I am quite a bit of emotion. Do not say that the thirty-eight army 14 hours of hasty march 145 miles, and carrying equipment, arrived at the designated location immediately into the battle, that is, we are lightly loaded, footsteps Nike Adidas, walking in the picturesque riverside avenue, but 10 kilometers, the last is not screaming knee pain, or screaming mouth is too thirsty. I can see, at that time, Grandpa, they are in what kind of environment to challenge the human limit ah.

Grandpa was evacuated from the Korean battlefield and was said to be in a coma in Yangzhou hospital for seven days and seven nights, and it was hard to wake up, but he fell into a fear of cold. The rumbling of gunfire was far away, and the coughing has been incessant ever since. My impression, even in the summer Grandpa also wore very thick clothes, winter cotton clothes cotton pants coat needless to say, but also all day long sitting in that kind of wooden fire bucket, holding in the hands of the "Romance of the Three Kingdoms". Sleep at night, in addition to cover very thick, usually to fill a warm water bag. Wake up early is never, often sitting on the bed to wash and eat, but also to the ground in front of the bed while spitting on the ground. At that time, I lived in a grass hut, the ground was mud, the spit on the ground and chicken droppings are not good to sweep, so I sprinkled some ash from the stove, and together, and swept back and forth a few times. This kind of hygiene, viruses and bacteria are always happy.

Grandpa told me stories, and when he got excited, his coughing became the accompaniment. Grandpa had no culture, is on the team to read the word, which from one side witnessed the great and fruitful political work of our army in those years. My love for traditional Chinese culture, in addition to my father's inculcation, was initially influenced by my grandfather. What I remember most clearly is the story of Cao Cao's assassination of Dong Zhuo. Grandpa sat on his bed, sometimes with a fluttering brow, sometimes with a sigh, repeating the story over and over again. When Dong Zhuo saw Cao Cao approaching in the mirror with a sword in his hand, he shouted out a rebuke, and Cao Cao, in his haste, pretended to offer a treasure, and fled before Dong Zhuo could regain his senses. The reason why this is so impressive is that there was a mirror like that on the inside of that bed. History was thus reunited in the mirror.

Reunited also are the coughs of today, which are reminders of history. Don't forget history, because with memories, the coughs are also very cozy. My daughter smiled the next day and said, "I walked too much yesterday, so I'd better stay home and read today." I replied back, "Okay, next time we have time, we'll run along the riverfront again."

Grandpa could no longer hear our conversation; he had passed away years ago while I was in military school, and I didn't even hear his last cough. But we have to continue on the path he didn't finish.