奶奶老了，老得像门口的歪脖子树，满是岁月的伤痕。奶奶的手也老了，皱皱巴巴的皮裹着变形的骨头，手心是布满了交错的纹路，指尖也长满了老茧。
Grandma is getting old, like a crooked neck tree at the door, full of scars from time. Grandma's hands are also old, with wrinkled skin wrapped in deformed bones, palms covered in interlocking patterns, and fingertips covered in calluses.
可我的记忆中，奶奶的手不是这样的。
But in my memory, my grandmother's hands were not like that.
小时候，奶奶总会接我放学，背着手笑眯眯地寻找着我的身影，眼里溢满了慈爱。奶奶也真是的，她从来都没藏好手心里的零食，每次出校门，我都能看见这个可爱的老人极力掩饰零食的样子。我也不忍折穿她，配合着表演，当她拿出来时，我还是发自内心地笑了，我还是掩盖不住内心的欢喜，围着她又蹦又跳。
When I was a child, my grandmother would always pick me up from school and look for my figure with a smile on her back, her eyes overflowing with love. Grandma is really good, she has never hidden the snacks in her palm properly. Every time she leaves the school gate, I can see this cute old man trying his best to conceal the snacks. I couldn't bear to break through her, so I cooperated with the performance. When she took it out, I still laughed from the bottom of my heart. I couldn't hide my joy and bounced around her.
被夕阳铺满的放学路上，奶奶牵着我的手，我另一只手拿着吃的听着奶奶的唠叨。那时奶奶的手上还没那么多老茧，皮肤不是古桐色，也没有那么瘦。我能感受到她手传来的阵阵温热，安心而又充满力量。
On the way home from school, covered in the sunset, my grandmother held my hand while I listened to her nagging while holding food in my other hand. At that time, my grandmother didn't have so many calluses on her hands, her skin wasn't chestnut colored, and she wasn't that thin. I can feel the warmth emanating from her hands, calm and full of strength.
伴随着我的长大，奶奶却越来越老，我从前仰视的她，现如今她已经矮我半个脑袋了。她陪我走过了童年，可我们即将分离我要去外地读书，而她，选择了回乡。她是农民对土地有深厚不可分割的情感，她唯一的愿望就是回老家种种那片小天地。分离的时候，我们都有许多话想说，可看着对方的眼睛却怎么都说不出口。她就这么握着我的手，深深地看着我。我能感受得到手掌的粗糙。这些年来照顾我，她洗衣做饭，手早已炸开了皮。这皮硬又扎，长在她的指尖，刺在我的心里。阳光穿过车窗，明晃晃的让人心慌，她握着我的手没有一刻松懈。我看着阳光爬满她的手，心慌地抬头，却撞上了一双掺满了浑浊泪水的眼睛，那眼里带着乞求，我紧紧回握着她的手作出回应，却不敢张口，怕泪出头。
As I grew up, my grandmother grew older and older. The one I used to look up to, she is now half my head shorter than me. She accompanied me through my childhood, but as we were about to part ways, I decided to go to another city to study, and she chose to return to her hometown. She is a farmer who has deep and inseparable feelings for land. Her only wish is to go back to her hometown. When we separate, we all have a lot to say, but when we look into each other's eyes, we can't say anything. She held my hand like this and looked deeply at me. I can feel the roughness of my palm. She has been taking care of me all these years, doing laundry and cooking, and her hands have already cracked open. This skin is hard and prickly, growing on her fingertips and piercing my heart. The sunlight shone through the car window, making people feel uneasy. She held my hand tightly without any relaxation. I looked up anxiously as the sunlight covered her hands, only to bump into a pair of eyes filled with murky tears. There was a pleading in those eyes, and I tightly held her hand in response, but I dared not open my mouth, afraid of tears coming out.
奶奶很少外出，外面的一切对于她们老人来说既危险又新奇，她不敢出门，怕世界的喧器，怕自己麻烦了儿女，怕自己老掉牙的样子惊扰了别人。
Grandma rarely goes out, everything outside is both dangerous and novel for the elderly. She dare not go out, afraid of the noise of the world, afraid of troubling her children, and afraid of disturbing others with her outdated appearance.
今年好不容易劝她和爷爷来陪我，她最终幸好松了口。她对父亲说，这一路上简直是折磨，下次不想再来。却见到我时，只字未提。重逢与分别一样，她还是握着我的手，似是激动地说不出语话来。我吃了一惊，她的手变化好大。她变得好瘦好瘦，瘦得只剩下被晒得黑黢黢的枯皮包裹着弯曲变形的手骨。将我捧在手心的大手也变得更扎人了些，还有些生疼。手背上更是清晰可见的粗大血管与干裂的纹路。手心的纹路深刻杂乱，岁月的沟壑深深印刻，我的心像是受到了极大的震憾，难受地说不出话，奶奶也没说什么，挤出一个不怎么好看的笑容，我也回了一个苦涩的笑。眼睛在努力保持原来的清澈，却还是渐渐泛红。
This year, I finally persuaded her and her grandfather to come and accompany me, but luckily she finally let go. She told her father that this journey was torture and she didn't want to come back next time. But when they saw me, they didn't mention a word. Reunion is like parting, she still holds my hand, as if excited and unable to speak. I was surprised, her hands changed so much. She became so thin that she was left with only withered skin that had been tanned and wrapped around her bent and deformed hand bones. The big hand that held me in the palm of my hand became even more prickly and painful. On the back of the hand, there are clearly visible large blood vessels and dry cracks. The patterns on my palm are deep and messy, and the grooves of time are deeply imprinted. My heart seems to have been greatly shaken, unable to speak, and my grandmother didn't say anything. She squeezed out a not so beautiful smile, and I also gave back a bitter smile. My eyes are trying to maintain their original clarity, but they are still gradually turning red.
奶奶的手是我心里的沟壑，我沿着她掌心的纹路走过，岁月在她的手心里蜿蜒而过，带去了成长路上的去不复返的童年。
My grandmother's hands are the grooves in my heart. I walked along the patterns in her palm, and time passed by in her palm, bringing with me the childhood that was gone forever on the path of growth.