Grandma cooked three bowls of noodles for me.

Wherever I go, whenever I pass by the ramen restaurant, I will go in and ask for a bowl of clear soup noodles with coriander and chopped green onion. Every time, it reminds me of my late grandmother and the clear soup noodles she made.

Grandma's noodles left a deep impression on me. I like to eat grandma's handmade noodles when I am not as tall as the square table at home. Grandma is good at making noodles. For those who like noodles, she will make noodles without hesitation. In their spare time, uncles and cousins like to go to grandma's house to "rub their faces".

When I was in junior high school, when I saw taking my classmates home, my grandmother muttered, "Why didn't you say hello to me in advance?" Invite your classmates to your home. Hearing classmates praise noodles, grandma smiled and blinked her eyes and said, "I like to eat more and control enough." The rusticity of the rural people is completely exposed. Grandma pays attention to noodles. When mixing dough, she always adds two or three raw eggs, rolls the dough out with a rolling pin, then folds it in half, and then cuts it with a knife. When the water in the pot boils, add the noodles. Float the noodles, put them in a bowl, add a little vinegar, a little salt, a few drops of oil, a pinch of shallots and coriander, and a bowl of handmade noodles is ready. Although it is clear water noodle soup, the pieces of oil flowers and green onions floating in the clear water are particularly attractive and cordial. At the entrance of noodles, you can feel the tenacity between your lips and teeth, mixed with the delicacy of noodle soup, and stir the taste buds.

In my thirty years of life, what impressed me the most was the three bowls of noodles cooked by my grandmother.

The first bowl of impressive noodles was in the summer vacation of the third grade of primary school. When wheat and rape were about to be harvested, the wheat in the field germinated due to the continuous heavy rain. I don't know that at that time, the annual grain harvest was barely enough for a family of seven to stutter, eager to eat better. So one night at dinner, my grandmother smiled and brought me a bowl of noodles. Cui told me to eat quickly. I yelled at her, "why don't you make green noodles every day?" This is not delicious. " That remark probably broke her heart, and I haven't eaten grandma's rolled noodles for half a year since then. I won't know until I visit menstruation's house. That year, every household in the county ate flour ground from germinated wheat. When I got home, I begged my grandmother, and she picked up the rolling pin again.

The second bowl of noodles was after my senior high school entrance examination. With the growth of age, the curious heart is also longing for the outside world. Seeing that my classmates and peers have gone to work in the south, I also began to yearn for the attractive places and high-rise cities in film and television dramas, and I am eager to go out of the town and county to see them. However, my parents want me to wait until the results come out. If my grades are not good, I will continue to repeat the senior high school entrance examination or go to vocational high school. I can't go to work in the south as soon as I graduate from junior high school, like other students.

After quarreling with my parents for many days, I packed my things and lived at my grandparents' house. That night, grandma also made me a bowl of noodles, just like many years ago, clear soup with green onions and small oil flowers. While eating noodles, I told my grandparents all kinds of bad things about my parents. My grandparents just sat there and looked at me quietly. The slightly dim light deeply engraved wrinkles on their faces, and they stopped several times. After eating noodles, I got into my room and watched TV. Soon I vaguely heard my parents' voices. They chatted with their grandparents outside and left. A few days later, grandpa said to me, "Your grandmother and I suggest you join the army instead of working in the south." The voice is silent, but it is very firm. In this way, after selection, I went to Sichuan happily and became a glorious PLA soldier.

Shortly after I arrived in the army, I ushered in the first Spring Festival after I left home. On New Year's Eve, an old soldier and I stood guard at the sentry post. Seeing the fireworks rising brilliantly in the distant city, I suddenly remembered my family: now the whole family has had a reunion dinner and watched the Spring Festival Gala around the stove. Tomorrow morning, you can drink dumplings made by grandpa. Years ago, my father chopped firewood and pickled pork, and perhaps steamed a chicken. I wonder if there are any mushrooms and yams I like to eat? I spent the first night homesick. After breakfast on New Year's Day morning, I rushed to the communication class of the battalion and dialed the landline at home. I am preparing to pay a New Year call to my grandparents and my whole family. Grandma can't wait to ask me, "Do you have noodles there?" "Yes, but it's not as delicious as grandma's." I said. Grandma sobbed and told me to work hard, strive to be a good soldier and strive for meritorious service! Finally, she said, "Grandma will cook noodles for you when you come back." I promised again and again with tears.

After retirement, I spend some time drinking Hu Kan with several comrades every day. Grandma watched me go out early and come back late with a mouthful of alcohol and said nothing. One night, I came home drunk and slept until noon the next day. Grandma quietly came to my room and patted me and said, get up! Time to eat. I opened my hazy eyes and saw grandma's aging face. I couldn't help feeling ashamed. By the time I got to the table, grandma had cooked my favorite noodle soup. I picked up my job with mixed feelings. Grandparents watched me eat with relish and told me about the soldiers in the iron camp like running water ... Unconsciously, only chopped green onion, coriander and a little oil flower were floating on the clear soup in the bowl. This bowl of noodles is delicious.

Now I gradually understand that the three bowls of noodles my grandma has cooked for me over the years are all the same noodles, clear soup with green onions and small oil flowers, but this ordinary noodle is full of grandma's infinite love for me. Grandma who made noodles left, and I grew up who ate noodles.

About the author: Wang Wei, a native of Long Ting, Yangxian County, Shaanxi Province, once served in a certain unit of the Chengdu Military Region as a document and journalist. He has published many photographs and literary works in newspapers and periodicals such as Dual-purpose Talents, People's Liberation Army, Military Land and Avant-garde. Now retired to work in a Taiwan-funded enterprise.