The rough hands

Love is a ray of sunshine, which let your mind feel the warmth of spring even in the cold winter; Love is a clear spring, which let your emotion keep pure and clean even if your emotions are covered with the dust of years; love is like a mountain, which let me who are frustrated have something to rely on. In my eyes, love is the rough hands.

That was a summer when I was seven. With the ringing bell, I bounced out of the classroom and was ready to go home. However, just still cloudless sky clouded over now. The rain fell down immediately. I Umbrella Factory ran back and asked the teacher to borrow a cell phone to call home, but no one answered. "It is impossible. Why does grandma not at home?" I wondered. It seemed that I was impossible to go home and had to wait at the school gate. Soon, there was a familiar figure into my eyes. "Huh, is the person with a black umbrella my grandma ?" "So heavy rain. You do not have an umbrella. So I come to send it.” My grandma said slowly. The rain was heavier and heavier. Although the way to way was close, we went a very long time. When we arrived at home, our shoes, pants and clothes were all wet. Despite her wet clothes, grandmother quickly found the clean clothes to put on me and get a dry towel to wipe me. Although my skin felt her hands rough, I felt particularly warm. "Grandma, you have arthritis. Do not wear wet clothes for too long, or else will be pain," I said. Grandma smiled, stroking my head, and moderately said: "My little grandson really sensible!"

Everyone think the maternal love great. While in my eyes, grandma’s rough hands also give me the deep love.

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