As a young boy, I was innocent. Every vacation I looked forward to two things—seeing my grandpa and hearing his wonderful stories. My grandpa was a very good storyteller. He had worked various jobs when he was young and wove ( 编 织)his adventures and misadventures into fantastic tales. These wonderful tales colored my childhood.
As I grew up, I had to admit that Grandpa's stories went on a little long, even a little boring and gradually lost their magic. However, not wanting to upset him, my brother and I would sometimes take turns sitting in the living room, listening to grandpa tell his stories.
When my grandpa was approaching 91, he suffered from serious memory-loss. It was kind of what doctors called dementia (痴呆),probably the earliest stage of Alzheimer's disease (阿尔兹海默症). Following the doctor's directions, we moved him into a Sunrise Assisted Living Community, where he could get a better care. After that, grandpa hardly came to our house.
One weekend before my grandpa's birthday, I came to visit him. Seeing grandpa sitting in his armchair, dull-looking, I was filled with mixed feelings. I wheeled grandpa to the sunshine in the courtyard, talking to him. He couldn't express himself clearly, but I listened to him patiently and carefully just as I used to be a little boy.
It was then that I noticed a box with some old photos in it. I picked one up, in which my brother, several boys in our neighborhood, and I were playing basketball, wearing basketball jerseys (球衣), with grandpa cheering us on ten years before.
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My mind flashed back to those beautiful memories.
A bright idea for grandpa's birthday came to my mind.
