Whetstone
The origin of this stone, I am not very clear either, since I am getting sensible, it is just in my home. Our house is brought and moved, except that several precious things do not change, it is this stone, follow us and rush about all the way.
I have asked mother, mother says when she comes, there is this stone. Father does not know either, perhaps father's father knows, however, I have not seen father's father at all times. More than ten years before being born in for me, when father's father was harvesting walnuts for the cooperative society, fall down from tree, threw hemiplegia, could not afford to lie in bed later, died in less than half a year. Appear those things that I write in " live date and forest " and then. Grandmother bring father sisters interdependent in four people, orphan widow is often deride. However, the grandmother is taking this stone all the time, rub and hoe, rub the sickle, rub the ploughshare The grandmother once said this stone rescued their life, I did not know the meaning of this sentence until now to father.
I have no emotion by the word to grandfather, perhaps it let me know I have to these stone pieces of grandfather too once. Father says that is left by your grandfather, my indistinct grandfather seeming to remember me, I know why father is always willing to bear the burden of work all one's life, and without a murmur.
The whetstone is 40 centimeters long, 20 centimeters wide, 30 centimeters high. Except that the above is frequent polishes and takes the form of the arch of pouring smoothly, other position are full of bumps and holes. Join nearly ten centimeters of position of downing, can find out it whets a knife to present date from the first day from joining the position of downing. It is old, it is old after people of a people of achievement industrious descendants. Because too deep because of joining the part of downing, it can't be used for whetting a knife any more almost, it lie in side wall corner of the foot of a wall, concubine of my home, silent now. It was drenched with rain, was getting sun Time begin to corrode it, is this named destiny?
I have rushed about on the outside during these years, seldom go home, even go home once in a while, all kinds of things are up to one's eyes in work, seldom remember it or seek it to see it, in my consciousness, it has already disappeared. A few days ago, I went home, asked mother suddenly: "Where has that whetstone gone? " Mother is distracted, realize half on the day, say: "Have been smashed on the cushion way while repairing the roads. " Very sad and right for a moment in my heart, can not say whether it is sad or calm or not, just " " Each,it want nothing, whose name is perhaps this exactly for home of it.

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