My grandmother loves apples, especially the ones my mother
peels for her. My mother has a beautiful way of peeling apples. She takes
the fruit knife calmly, quickly spinning it around the apple, and the skin
falls off like a light swallow gliding over the water, freely dancing around
the apple. In no time, a perfect round apple appears before us, like a work
of art. After peeling, my mother always takes the plate, cuts the apple into
pieces, and hands them to my grandmother. In that moment, my mother's
smiling eyes are so beautiful. My grandmother always hands me a few pieces,
and I always immaturely shout for more after finishing them. Looking at my
mother's annoyed yet smiling expression, I am overjoyed. However, in my
heart, I always think how nice it would be to have a whole apple to myself.
As time passes, my grandmother grows older, but still holds me as we watch
my mother peel apples. My mother still uses her nimble hands to make
delicious "art pieces." The difference is that each of us has a big apple
peeled by her own hands. As I enjoy the sweet apple, I often think how happy
it would be to peel an apple for my grandmother or mother myself.
One autumn, my grandmother fell ill and was in a coma for several days. I
vaguely remember her kind face and the body that was tortured by illness.
That day, my grandmother miraculously opened her eyes and struggled to say
something. I hurriedly put my ear to her lips, only to hear her say, "Ap...ple."
My father was at work, and my mother was out shopping. Who would peel an
apple for my grandmother? It seemed I had to do it myself. I quickly grabbed
a big, red apple and tried to imitate my mother's actions. However, the
knife seemed to be against me, and the more I tried to peel it nicely, the
more it disobeyed me. The skin and flesh scattered all over the floor. When
I trembled as I handed the half "ugly duckling" apple to my grandmother, I
clearly saw a happy smile on her face.
Nowadays, my grandmother has recovered, and our habit of eating apples after
dinner has not changed. However, the fruit knife is now in my hands. Every
time I look at my mother and grandmother's satisfied faces, I feel like I
have become a "little angel" spreading love, bringing happiness to my family
and myself. |