Her movements were gentle and slow, as if each item carried a precious memory.
She picked up a sweater that her grandfather had knitted for her by hand. The crooked stitches were filled with her grandfather's deep love.
She remembered the scene of her grandfather wearing reading glasses, sitting under the dim light, knitting a sweater for her. His rough hands moved among the yarn, and because of his poor eyesight, he would prick his fingers from time to time, but he didn't care at all. He kept saying that he hoped she would be warm and not get cold.
She picked up the notebook her father had given her, which contained his notes on her habits when she first came home: her love of sweets, her dislike of cilantro, her favorite colors, and her hobbies. Each note was written neatly, reminding her to pay more attention to her daughter's preferences.
There was also the exquisite hair clip her aunt gave her. Her aunt had spotted it at first glance while shopping and thought it was a perfect gift for her. The crystal on the hair clip sparkled under the light, just like her aunt's love for her, which, though unassuming, always warmed her heart.
As she tidied up, she recalled her time in Beijing, from the initial unfamiliarity and awkwardness when she first stepped into the house, to the cautiousness she showed when facing her family, speaking tentatively as if afraid of doing something wrong.
Now, the family is very close, and they sit together to watch TV, laughing or crying over the plot.
We share each other's joys and sorrows, celebrate happy occasions together, and face difficulties together.
She remembered the surprise and excitement in her grandfather's eyes when he first saw her, and the smile that bloomed on his wrinkled face, as if all the vicissitudes of time had vanished at that moment, leaving only endless joy.
I remember the moments of quiet care my father showed me in life. Although he didn't say much, he always appeared when I needed him. For example, when I stayed up late studying, he would quietly place a cup of hot milk on the table. The milk was at the perfect temperature, and he even thoughtfully included a note reminding me to get some rest.
She also remembers the close bond between her aunt and herself when they shared snippets of life, the warm words and thoughtful gestures, shopping together, cooking together, which made her feel the warmth of home.
These memories, like brilliant stars, illuminated her heart and made her more reluctant to part ways with them. Each memory was her most precious treasure and a pillar of support for her struggles in a foreign land.
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