an hourglass at its base; she holds an urn in her left hand and a sprig of acacia in her right, as Father Time, depicted as an angel with wings and carrying a scythe, stands behind her, tenderly braiding her hair.
Although I have few memories of that first trip, I do remember grandma braiding(编辫子) my hair every day. The brush gliding through my hair is a feeling I will treasure forever because she passed away soon. I returned to America when I was five years old. This time I had a brother,...