My grandmother grew up in a world different from me. She experienced many things in her long life.
Though she never told stories, her stories were in the way she ate — she savored (品味) her food, cherished (珍惜) it. Often she would be the first to sit at the dinner table, and the last to leave. Food had been really scarce (缺乏) when she grew up.
Her stories were in the way she handed me lucky money. From a young age, my grandmother was brought up to understand the importance of hard work and the necessary of saving. Every Chinese New Year, I would be handed, or sent, a small red envelope that contained money, but never more than twenty dollars. When I was young, I didn't understand why my grandmother gave me such a small amount of money. As I grew older, I realized that she wasn't teaching me about money, but about tradition and hard work and family. The money was insignificant. I would probably spend it on any toy that I would lose soon after; it was the meaning behind her gift that mattered. It was her saying," I love you; I am your family and I want you to work hard as your family has before you."
My grandmother's stories were lessons. But they were never told in words. From the time that I was very young, up until she could barely remember my name, I remember her calling me "good girl". Those two little words, in the course of my growing up, were a constant reminder that I was still so young, with still so far to go.
Now my grandmother is gone, but I see her every day. I see her in the women around me and in the mirror. She lives with me, inside me, and in the legacies(遗产)that I will create. And I know she would be proud.
