Memory can be complex recall, where we may recover the fading enthusiasm, the dying distress, the faint emotions, and above all, the most striking and stifling memory. Several extracts of memory pace back and forth in my mind without minutes＇ pause. Perhaps they have been my part of my life, for they have certainly given me immense shake and shock.



Now I am very glad to share with you the brightest part of my never-fading memory.



It jumped into my life when I was a little pupil in Grade Two. My formal maths teacher was about to have a baby, so he,an old but strong man, substituted her. He couldn＇t be called a wonderful teacher;he always forgot what he had told and even what he was to tell, thus making it our responsibility to remind him where he had just paused. However, he is a gentleman with amiable temper, sending me a feeling of my grandfather being around. For the sole reason,I felt like being close to him to enjoy that kind of happiness.



The road, which has been well maintained in my memory,engraved the deep tracks of wheels and two shadows, recording the story of a pleasant evening.



That day, I walked home like a swallow. All of a sudden, a familiar shout came closer to me from my back. "Little girl, do you want a free lift?" I looked back, and the swarthy face occupied by deep lines, caught my eye immediately.
I just smiled back without any answer.



"Jump on! My little girl!" He slowed his riding speed,moving towards me bit by bit.
I stood there,motionless and wordless.



"Do I look like a big and wild gray wolf?" He maintained his pleasing gentleness.



I shook my head with my long hair moving right and left with fixed rhythm. At last, I opened my mouth:"I don＇t know how to jump."



"Well, I see. But when I was younger than you, I had already managed to jump onto my father＇s big and heavy bike.What＇s more, I was much shorter than you ! So I guess you can＇t ride a bike."



I nodded with my face blushed. Perhaps at that time I was a small and weak child to him, one who seemed unlikely to receive any hurt or challenge. Oddly enough, I lost my feet just with a strong feeling of flying;magically I had sat on the rear part of his bike in security. With the help of his two great hands, what filled the short time flying was not fright but intimacy, because my grandfather usually did so.Now what you can and should do is to stay quietly. OK?"



I looked down at his "old friend", one guy suffering from wounds small or big and festering in such unexpected rain. If I saw it at one dark and damp corner, I must

feel sic

that he had moved to logistics department for his serious forgetfulness.

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